Thursday, November 29, 2007

I want you girls to know that if it weren't for this man here, I'd be standing here dead.

Today is day one of me being a better person. That includes posting more often to my blog. Sometimes I walk around thinking of blog topics in my head. Like today I was doing laundry and I was thinking about yesterday's blog and how I should have put 'dryer racks' under the heading "Things that are annoying." Dryer racks are so annoying! At least the one we have where I live is annoying. It's constantly collapsing for no reason. I'm trying to put some wet pants on the dryer rack and..whoa, it collapses. So I put it back together (kind of forcefully, I'll admit) and I try to put a sweater on it but..whoa, it collapses again. Some of you might be thinking that it's time for me to get a new dryer rack, but no, I'm not going to. I don't give up on my stuff just because it doesn't do the one thing it was made to do. I don't give up on my stuff, but I do get mad at (and sometimes shout at) my stuff. I'll yell things like, "Do your job, dryer rack! You do your job! Now!" After yelling at my stuff, I sometimes rip out a small patch of my hair, but whatever... It doesn't really hurt because I've worked myself up into such a rage that the adrenaline's really pumping, you know?

This morning I tried a new cardio machine at the gym. It's this stair-stepper that's kind of like real stairs...like an escalator that moves and that you literally walk up, not like your typical stair-stepper where you place your feet on platforms that simulate stair-stepping. I'm a fan of the show The Biggest Loser, a reality program in which obese people lose weight and compete for 250,000 and the title of The Biggest Loser. There was one competition on the show where the contestants were put on escalators (they were climbing up the escalators) and whoever could stay on the longest would win the competition. I watched and thought to myself: Yeah, that'd be kind of hard, but I could do it. It's more a mental game than anything. No, I was wrong. Walking up that escalator-style stair stepper was ridiculously hard. At first I put it on level 10, thinking that I do level 14 on the elliptical all the time. Then I was totally gonna fall off so I had to put it on level 4 and then I had to force myself to do 20 minutes. Anyway, props to the contestants on The Biggest Loser. They're bad ass.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

You are a fucking ugly bitch and I want to stab you to death and play with your blood.

I'm going to try to post new entries more often. I'm really sorry. I'm a pathetic excuse for a human being. Even though I know that very few people read this, I've started to get what I've affectionately termed blog-anoia. Now when someone looks at me with sad eyes and tilts their head and says something like, "Are you ok? No, really, be honest.", I think uhhhh did they read my blog? But it's cool. Writing is (or should be, I think) about honesty. So I'm trying to be as honest as possible with this. I don't think I always succeed, either. Because you don't want to know how bad things really are. Just kidding. Alright, so in the spirit of honesty...

Things that are on my mind:

1. I shouldn't be allowed to watch The View or any other talk shows or news programs for that matter. Today on The View (which I only caught by accident. Come on guys, I'm a nanny, which is practically a stay at home mom. This programming is aimed right at me!) they were talking about how the polar ice caps are DEFINITELY GOING TO MELT IN 23 YEARS. What? I mean, I know we're in trouble with Global Warming and everything, but when I hear things like that it makes me feel like there's no hope. It makes me feel like there's an expiration date on my life. And I have no idea, other than the obvious buying reusable grocery bags and not running the water when I brush my teeth, what the hell I'm supposed to do. Tell me what to do, someone! I don't want to have to wear a spacesuit someday just to grab the paper off the stoop.

2. Someone told me recently that "water is the new oil." This is a scary thought. Then the person who told me that followed it up with this tidbit: "they're going to drain the Great Lakes." Da da DUM. Don't you just love alarmists? But now every time I turn on the faucet I imagine that it's oil spilling out...washing my dishes in oil, bathing in oil (or a commodity as precious as oil). It's making me nuts. Again, what can I do? I feel hopeless. We can't live without water but we can live without oil.

Things that are annoying:

1. Bras. Bras are such a pain in the ass. It's fucking hard to get my bra clasped. My arms don't bend that way. And what about putting on a bra after you get out of the shower? Putting on any clothes while your body is damp is frustrating, but putting a bra onto a damp body is sincerely tough. What about when you put your bra on and then realize that one strap is twisted and you have to do it all over again? Fuck!

Things that are great:

1. The Rubik's Cube. I know, it's totally 80s, but I'm in love with my Rubik's Cube. I've been messing with it nonstop since I got it, and I finally finally finally got TWO SIDES. For you fellow cubers out there, you know that's a big accomplishment! I'm this close to solving the whole thing.

2. Campbell's Select Italian Sausage and Pepperoni. They might as well call it Pizza Soup. It's delicious.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Deep fat fry! Deep fat fry! Music to my ears!

IT'S FINALLY HERE. I have a great Thanksgiving meal idea. I think we should make a ton of food and then I'll lay down and you'll put all the food on top of my body and then I'll have to eat my way out. That's my bliss right there. That is my bliss. So, it's snowing outside. How poetic. It's as if God's holy light is shining down upon all of us right now. Isn't it cool that God's holy light manifests itself as cold, wet, clumpy, drizzly snow? God sure is mysterious. I wonder what God eats on Thanksgiving. Does God eat? Does God have intestines? Is God American? Are there Pilgrims in Heaven? I know these are the questions we all ask ourselves each year on Thanksgiving. And the sad thing is, we're never going to know the answers...until we have our first dead Thanksgiving, of course. That will be a special one.

Since I'm still alive, this year I'll have to settle for Thanksgiving with my family. We're going out to eat. We're too lazy and way way too stupid to cook. So we're going to be eating at a restaurant called The Deadwood Lodge in Northville, Michigan--the city in which my sister Gina and her loving (and lovely) husband Jason make their home. No, they don't have any kids yet. Get off their case! The cool thing about eating out for Thanksgiving is that you can order whatever you want. You can say, "Fuck you, Pilgrims, you bony bunch of suckers! I'm ordering prime rib and I won't be shoving even one sweet potato down my gullet. So there! Fuck you! Fuck you!" You don't have to say it out loud, but you can if you want. Every time I've shouted that at Old Country Buffet (which is where we usually feast on what you all call Thanksgiving but what I've begun referring to as Prime Rib Day) my words have been met with a rousing round of applause and in one circumstance, a kiss on the lips from a leathery old man still holding a dripping turkey drumstick in one hand. But hey, a kiss on the lips is a kiss on the lips.

But the real point of Thanksgiving is not the food. (Of course, I don't really mean that, but I have to say it just so that I can sleep at night--between you and me, the real point of Thanksgiving is totally the food). The real point of Thanksgiving is, of course, giving thanks. So what are you thankful for this Prime Rib Day? Oops sorry, Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for God's love, my family and friends, all my blessings, my cat, my health (and the health of my family and friends), but most of all I'm thankful for:

1. Dead Pilgrims
2. Gristle
3. Mint gum
4. Television
5. Booze
6. Snacks
and
7. Moccasins

Thanksby to God for the embarrassment of riches that has been bestowed upon me! And thanks for my family, too.

Monday, November 19, 2007

How would we have, like, just...made a campsite in the middle of three piles of rocks, just by coincidence?

I read something in US magazine that disturbed me. You know those "Sound off!" sections where they have pictures of celebrities with little bubbles coming out of their mouths with quotes inside of things they've said? Well, of course, you all know that Thanksgiving is coming up so some of the quotes in "Sound off!" were Thanksgiving-related. Here's what T.R. Knight (George from Grey's Anatomy) had to say about it: "We believe that the Pilgrims and Indians had this nice meal together, but it's a lie. People were slaughtered." Whoa, T.R., don't you think you're laying the holiday love on a little thick? Here in America, we don't care about Indians. Alright? We care about turkey and FOOD, but not about Indians. I'm kidding, of course. T.R. Knight is right about Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was a real bloodbath. I don't know about you but when I think about bloodbaths and mass killings, I start to think about slaughtering a bird and eating it with stuffing. I don't know, I'm just saying. Here's what some other celebs had to say about Thanksgiving:

"I'm not much of a cook... We all chip in but I don't think anybody in my family wants me to handle the Thanksgiving dinner." --Angelina Jolie can do a lot of things (save the world?). Apparently cooking isn't one of them.

"Thanksgiving, man! Not a good day to be my pants."--Kevin James lets it all hang out on Thanksgiving.

"We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth, and power as no other nation has ever grown."--What? Abe Lincoln is SO not a celebrity.

Check back at the Humane Egoist later this week for a list of things I'm thankful for.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Vanity...definitely my favorite sin.

So it's Sunday again. I always look forward to my time off during the week. On say, Wednesday, I'll be really tired but I'll think to myself, that's ok because when Sunday comes around I can just sleep all day or go to the bookstore or do whatever I want. But Sundays are rarely good days for me. Being alone on a Sunday (as I often am) is somehow even worse than being alone on a different day of the week. I prefer hanging out alone on a Friday night to hanging out alone on a Sunday. If I'm alone on a Friday night, I can at least laugh at myself, sitting around doing laundry and watching Ghost Whisperer. It's still Friday night, a night filled with the promise of the weekend. Maybe it's that I really don't mind not having a boyfriend or someone to go on dates with right now. I'm not worried about it. But Sundays are family days, or at least friend days. And when I don't have family or friends around when everyone else seems to, that's what gets to me. And I can't help it--it seems like on Sundays, all I see around me is tragedy. I live in a city so it's not hard to find something to be sad about--the homeless man standing in the intersection holding up a sign that says "Vietnam Vet, hungry," or the line of people outside the Salvation Army Rehab Center waiting to see if there's a bed available. Even a cloudy, gray sky gets to me. Today I decided to go to the mall. I thought, I could never be sad or depressed at a mall. Malls are so bright and cheerful, with their skylights and shiny floors and jewelery shops and frozen yogurt stands. But I was wrong. Surrounding myself with people all happily Christmas shopping was not a good idea. There were thug-wannabe teenage boys walking around in puffy coats with buzz cuts and fake diamond earrings. They depressed and frightened me. There were whole huge Asian families, standing in line at Villa Pizza or Great Steak Escape joking and laughing with each other and taking turns running off arm in arm to the restrooms. I saw a girl holding one of those photo booth picture strips. Anyone who knows me knows that I love photo booths. But it's way too pathetic to go into one of those things alone, so of course I didn't. The one person I did speak to at the mall was Phyllis, the kindly woman who asked if I'd be willing to fill out an Old Navy survey and in return she'd give me five dollars. She was older and hunched over with scraggly blond hair. She reminded me of the little woman/puppet that lives in the junkyard in "Labyrinth" (starring David Bowie). I thought, what the hell, I've got nothing but time. She asked how old I was and was shocked when I said 25. I said, "Why how old did you think I was?" She just said, "Younger, for sure." So that lifted my spirits a little. Plus, when she gave me my five dollars she said, "There you go. I'm sure you'll have fun with that." She's right. I will. So now that I'm thinking of it, I think I'll make a list of things you shouldn't do alone on a Sunday (if you're prone to Sunday depression):

1. Don't see a dramatic or sad movie
2. Don't go to the mall
3. Don't go to the pet store and think how much better your life would be if only you could have a pet
4. Don't go to Potbelly's (that place gets so busy on the weekends!)
5. Don't pull out any of your old yearbooks/time capsules and look through them while listening to mournful Bruce Springsteen songs

More to come...

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I believe in two things: discipline and the bible. Here you'll receive both.

I am now fully obsessed with the Showtime drama "Dexter."
It's the best show I've ever seen.
And that's saying a lot,
because I watch a lot of TV shows.
I've been feeling faint lately.
Dizzy as shit,
is another way of putting it.
Fuck you, inner ear.
I ate a lot of pizza last night.
I think it was a good decision to eat a lot of pizza and I don't care
if you agree.
I actually like that show "Kid Nation."
It's refreshing,
a show with no adults.
Adults can be so awful.
They opened a new animal shelter near my house.
They let the cats roam around in their own special rooms,
which is nice because when I walk by they come up to the window
and meow at me through the glass.
Then again it makes me sad because
I can't have a pet.
I was reading Prevention magazine and it said that if you gain
between 11 and 22 pounds after the age of 18
it can increase your risk of breast cancer by up to 15%.
But what if you gained, say, 80 or so pounds after the age of 18?
I don't know, I'm just asking.
I get it, Prevention magazine.
Why don't you just write this:
Prepare yourself for cancer you fat piece of shit.
That's ok.
I've got the Diet Detective's Calorie Bargain Bible.
So I'm all set.
I've learned that if you go to Outback Steakhouse you should say things like:
Can you cook it without butter? and
Would you mind boxing up half my meal right away? and
Wanna split my 1 lb. baked potato with me?
Maybe a bigger problem is that restaurants like Outback are serving us
five times as much as we actually need.
No, because Outback would never hurt me.
I know that in my heart.
Thanksgiving is almost here.
I got some mashed sweet potatoes from the hot food counter
at Treasure Island
in celebration of that fact.
They were delicious.
But I think that on Thanksgiving day I am going to order Prime Rib
instead of Turkey.
That's what the Indians would've wanted.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

So raise your hand if you think that was a Russian water-tentacle.

Sundays depress me. I saw "Into the Wild" tonight and it made me want to go into the wild myself. Not eat the wrong wild potato root and die a slow death, but live off the land in other ways, sure. No really. There's not nearly enough nature in my life. I miss grass and trees and quiet.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Flippin' sweet.

I was wrong about Dexter,
because it is the best show ever.
Michael C. Hall makes me smile.
Dexter may do bad things,
but I never want him to get caught.
Michael C. Hall is very in-shape.
Look at his round behind.
I never notice guys' butts,
but I noticed his.
Just because it is so round.
In a good way.
I bought a book called "The Diet Detective's Calorie Bargain Bible."
It makes me realize that a lot of the things I eat
have a lot of calories.
Damn you, mozzerella sticks,
jalepeno poppers,
omelet sandwiches from Einstein's,
chocolate chunk cookies from Einstein's,
etc.
I have learned that when you go to fast food sandwich shops
(like Subway)
it is best to get the soup.
The soup at Einstein's is a calorie bargain.
Today I ordered a bowl of Turkey Chili from Einstein's
and the girl gave me two cups (to equal one bowl).
I was ashamed of myself carrying two bowls to my booth,
where I sat alone doing a crossword.
Tonight I saw a rat the size of a tiger cub.
That's a large rat,
my friends.
Then I saw another rat.
What a night!

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Are you having a holly, jolly Christmas?

It makes me happy that even though we haven't hit Thanksgiving yet the Christmas ads are already popping up on TV. I'm not being sarcastic. It really does make me happy. I love Christmas. I love snow, I love decorations, I love hot chocolate, I love holiday movies, holiday-themed pies and cookies, footy pajamas, holiday cards (preferably with long letters inside about how "The Orsons" or whoever are doing), snazzy holiday outfits, crunching ice beneath the toe of my boot (you know when the ice is real thin on the sidewalk or somewhere and it breaks like glass?), sledding, rosy cheeks, sitting on Santa's lap (yes I still do that), thinking about reindeer, buying gifts for everyone (and receiving a few, too), the Abruzzo family Christmas party with Aunt Susan's little weiners wrapped in those pillsbury croissant biscuit things (and hopefully a rousing game of whatever that game is with the dice and the money), cats lying in empty gift boxes and dogs shredding up discarded wrapping paper... But mostly I love the cakes and pies. Cakes and pies, cakes and pies!

Monday, November 5, 2007

Cheese, if you ever disrespect her again like that, I'm gonna pull your fuckin' card, okay?

I don't have much to say today. But I enjoy writing this bloggestat (I think I'll start calling this a bloggestat, just for fun) so I thought I'd drop by and see what comes out. So...I netflixed season one of Dexter and I watched the pilot last night. I love Michael C. Hall. He's snazzy and a great actor. I thought the pilot was really strong. In fact, when I was done watching it, as I went over to my DVD player and ejected the disc, I thought, what a strong pilot. Back in the day, pilots used to be kind of iffy and that was ok (check out the Seinfeld pilot). Nowadays though, the pilot of a show is expected to be representative of what viewers will see if they tune in each week. I guess that's fair. But Dexter is a disturbing show. I know that Dexter kills people who deserve to be killed, but I couldn't help but feel for them once they got all wrapped up in plastic and strapped to a metal table in the middle of an empty old shed or an abandoned warehouse. Maybe it's because I didn't get to see the so-called "bad people" do their killing/raping/abusing. I have to see it to know that they deserve to die. Plus, Dexter is so emotionless. It's scary. Even though he uses his powers for good, it's still killing. Hmmm. It's a real ethical pickle. Anyway, I had bad dreams last night. I dreamt that I was at this woman's house and she was begging Dexter not to kill her. I convinced Dexter not to kill her, but then I kept thinking, if I was that woman I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. I'd just be waiting for the moment when Dexter was going to show up and wrap me in plastic and then knife me. So what kind of life is that? That's no life. No life at all.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Jimi Hendrix, deceased: drugs. Janis Joplin, deceased: alcohol. Mama Cass, deceased: ham sandwich.

I died last night, just like I thought I would. Ok, ok. I'm not dead. Michael Myers showed up at the movie, just as I suspected. He took mercy on me and only cut off one of my hands. Lucky for you, I'm a lefty. Otherwise I would not be able to type this.