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Fight the Fear!

24 Aug

I came up with an idea today that got me really excited. It was probably the 5th or 6th thought that lit up my right cerebral cortex before noon, but I had a feeling about this one.
It’s a concept for a blog that I thought would be both entertaining for followers, and allow an outlet for others to share their experiences. I’m obviously not going to tell you what it is; I’d rather surprise you when it comes to fruition.

But as I always do when I get an idea that intrigues me, I jump into the planning phase and then, slowly, decide against it, lose interest or get bombarded with another “FANTASTIC IDEAS!” I have creative ADD!

As I began to think out my plan, I felt my enthusiasm dwindle. That’s not accurate, I was still super enthusiastic I just started to doubt certain aspects of it.

Will people really read it?

How do I entice people to contribute?

Will it be entertaining enough?

What lessons will readers get from it?

As all these thoughts ran through my head, it occurred to me “I’m afraid to fail.” I don’t necessarily fear the kick to my pride; I am scared of dedicating a tremendous amount of time and effort to something that does not pay off.But what kinda pay off am I looking for? Nothing! I want it to be fun! With this realization I felt foolish; I’ve never left fear stand in my way before.

I am going to do it. I am going to start it, promote it, dedicate time to it and see what happens. If it doesn’t take off, so be it; I tried.

Then again, if I really really try, it will be a success, won’t it…


Guess Who, The Walmart Edition

11 Jul

There are two websites that are sure to waste my afternoon. I go to them for a laugh, and before I know it, I’ve wasted an hour to numerous hours clicking page after page claiming, “Just one more…”

They are: and Neither offer any intellectual stimulation. They exist purely for mindless amazement.

At some point in a conversation with my parents and triple A this weekend, I mentioned these sites. It was in response to my dad stating that he didn’t like to look at stupid sites, or that there was nothing worthwhile on the internet, now I remember. Him and my mom were kinda like “huh?” So I got out my laptop and went to People of Walmart. I handed it over and showed him a few. Then I pointed out, “Make sure you read the captions. The captions make it!”

A few minutes later I came back out onto the porch and he is reading the captions outloud. “Guess who this is. What do you think the picture looks like, huh?” And then he would describe it laughing.

I took my laptop back and switched to Texts From Last Night. I started reading outloud—only the appropriate ones of course. And my parents’ reactions ranged from a chuckle to an full-blown LOL. But after about 6 pages they were losing interest (while I was still going strong).

I closed my laptop as my dad got up: “I guess there are some funny things on the internet,” he commented.

Win!! I successfully dumbed down my dad.

He may have introduced me to the internet, but I introduced him to its most idiotic content.

And for that I am proud.

What to say, when all’s ok?

28 May

I’ve been really slacking on the blogging lately. I could blame any number of reasons—busy at work, enjoying the outdoors, trying to disconnect from the internet—and they’d all be somewhat valid. But during an email conversation with FF the other day, another reason popped out of my subconscious and threw itself onto the screen…

I’m in a stable relationship!

At that point in our email conversation, we were discussing her interest in a not-so-available man to which she apologized for “going on” about. I replied—legitimately defensive—“Don’t be sorry; I love analyzing this shit! It’s great blog fodder. You know, now that I’m in a stable relationship, I’m slacking on blog material. You’re helping me here!”

It’s not that I ever blogged about my relationships. Actually, until this year, I intentionally never wrote, mentioned, or commented on anyone who might not be a permanent fixture in my life. It was my thoughts; my life; my blog. But even though you may not speak about the details, when you’re going through emotional upheaval, you tend to have more to say—on any topic!

Either way… I’m happy… life’s good… so I got nothing to blog complain about. But I’ll make sure that doesn’t keep me from posting—there are plenty of exciting things going on in my world…

and if I can find the time, I’ll tell you about all of them!


1 Brit, 3 years of childhood masterbation and 10,000 teens in cowboy boots

19 May

… is what occupied this previous weekend. Now you understand why I haven’t had time to blog?

Last week SS took me to see Ricky Gervais at MSG’s theater. I became a big fan of the over-sized un-PC child during the reign of The Office. (Hence why I hated the American version for so long.) And I think Animals is one of the funniest stand-up routines ever to exist; on the same account, Politics was one of, if not the, worst. My cousin and I saw him perform at the Tribeca Arts Center in 2007 — he warmed up there the night before his MSG debut — and was mucho disappointed. He not only repeated material, but he only repeated partial bits, forcing mid-point anti-climax jokes into punchline position. Not cool.

This time around he was absolutely fab. Hilarious, disgusting and completely OTT… everything you’d expect from the sick Brit. The highlight for me was when he interpreted his childhood Sunday School book, Noah — British religious humour never fails to entertain me to the fullest. He did repeat one bit, but it was about dolphins “effin each other in the head”… a classic.

According to his blog, he seems pleased with his reviews… he writes: Picked up a nice review too. “No one specializes in outrageously bad taste quite as adorably as Ricky Gervais.” The Hollywood Reporter. One for the DVD I think.

Good job Ricky. High Five!!


I spent Saturday night like any 28-yr-old girl would choose to… among tens of thousands of squealing teeny-boppers, clans of quietly depressed parents and one screeching 28-yr-old 6’5″ man, listening to the teenage goddess of love and heartbreak.

I went to Taylor Swift‘s Fearless concert.

I expected the flash back to my youth… and here’s what I picked up along the way.

1) Taylor Swift has fallen in and out of love A LOT for a 20-yr-old.

2) Her closet must look like a Disco club.

3) Her “Awe, OMG, I can’t believe a crowd of people came to hear me” look is beginning to look fake.

4) She has more energy than Max does.

5) She puts on an absolutely, fantastically entertaining show — and it is a show, not a concert, complete with video clips of interviews with her and her music’s subjects, acted out skits on stage and wanders through the audience.

What my country music-loving man friend discovered.

1) They convert all but one men’s room into a women’s room for these sort of shows.

2) The one men’s room has no line.

2) The bars have no line.

Excellent job Taylor; I’d come see you again — though next time I might bring an <18… just to fit in, ya’ know?


After all the perverse testosterone- and teenage hormone-flooded energy of the last two shows, I was in dire need of some mature, classy feminine entertainment.

So I went with three lovely sophisticated lady friends to see Chelsea Handler‘s Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang tour at Radio City. It was just what I needed. We, along with thousands of mid-20s to mid-30s women, all with vodka cocktails in hand, enjoyed a quiet discussion of her recent break-up with Ted, the E!- hotshot BF from her latest book, her senile father who was apparently in the audience and her third grade masturbation habit.

She was hilarious… no, more than hilarious. She was bloody effin hilarious. Yet, I think a lot of the humor stemmed from having read and absorbed all her book material over the past few months. Every person, situation and racial joke that she threw out triggered a reference to a story from her book in my head, and I’d start cracking up before she finished delivering the punchline. There was no way she could cram the hilarity of the situations she creates for herself into a 1.5 hour stand-up routine.

What I did enjoy from both her and the opener’s bits was their outward mocking of pregnancy and kids. I couldn’t help but think, “35-yr-olds who don’t want kids? I wish every woman who’s said to me ‘You’ll change your mind later’ could have been there to witness these scientific anomalies who hadn’t been slapped with an urge to breed.” Word up sistas!

And that concludes my weekend.

It’s now Wednesday and I got things to do… it’s fancy dinner date night with SS. And as you know, dinner with SS is one of my favorite things to do. BRING IT!!

(Note: As I closed WordPress I received a text from SS with this photo and the caption: “Mmmm baby geese… Fois Gras tonight.” Never leave him alone with your pets B&Gs — unless it’s a cat; in that case you only have to worry about him stealing it.)

Hot Guys Who Can Read?

17 May

I got yelled at on Friday. As Francais Fille said, “You haven’t blogged in a while!! Your cleanse was soooo a week and a half ago.” I promised her an entry after and about my action-packed weekend… and it will come.

In the meantime, SS introduced me to a new blog the other day. (Note: He doesn’t actually read it, but someone he knows was pushing it on their FB page.) But being a fan of blogging, reading and, well, guys, it is right up my alley.

I thought you might enjoy it too:

Hot Guys Reading Books

Here’s more about the blogger, Alli Rense. She’s currently working her way through an extensive reading list… God, I’m jealous… reading her website reminds me of my book shelf at home… and now I’m stressed!

Apparently a lot of people would like to date a hot guy who reads books… Do You Want To Date Hot Men Reading Books? by Jennifer Wright at

On a sidenote, I took a photo of my SS reading that I intended to post here. But that could potentially kill my anonymity so I’m gonna keep it to myself for now… But I’ll tell ya, it’s a fantastic one… not only does he look hot reading, but he’s reading my article!

Bride-to-be goes to the Kentucky Derby

4 May

Someone went to the Kentucky Derby…
Nope, not me; it was creative odds n’ ends Bride-to-Be…

Let’s Follow the Bride and her Derby Delight.
(I am having a hard time pronouncing Derby the American way; I keep wanting to say “Dar-Bee” as in the English Midlands city.)

Oops! My bad…

2 May

So after Day 1’s rough start due to a microscopic ninja taking up residence inside my brain between my eyeballs, Day 2’s energy and satisfaction was a pleasant relief. I felt great. Long walk at the beach, followed by errands and a massive closet clean-up (I know, I know, my life is very exciting; don’t be jealous, you too can have this much fun on a Saturday!) filled my day. I felt so good that I even managed to sit in the Chinese food shop and watch SS eat half a quart of Egg Drop Wonton soup, dumplings and pork fried rice. Yep! Just sat there and watched him eat. And theeeeeen cuddled up on his shoulder in the movie theater while he chowed down on a bag of popcorn. Yep! I just smelled and watched. Can you believe it?

Sunday was a different story. I woke up weak and remained weak throughout the day. On numerous occasions I was ready to sack it all off. Here’s why:

1) I woke up in the middle of a dream about brownies.

2) We drove up to PDubbs to peruse the Adopt-a-thon at the local animal shelter. The only thing I wanted more than a puppy or kitty was a pulled pork chopped salad with BBQ sauce and honey mustard dressing from Harbor Q. If there is one place I need to avoid when fasting, it’s P Dubbs (and also Stone Street in downtown NYC, but that fact I just learned today).

I begged SS to let me go get a salad. And while I am confident I would have been able to overtake him by surprise, wrestle him to the floor and pin him down under a table in the restaurant long enough to eat the monsterous salad (say, 1.35 minutes), he said he wasn’t gonna let me so I didn’t even drive to the restaurant.

3) We went to the beach where I watched numerous children eat massive ice cream cones. And every time I shut my eyes to nap I began thinking of food. And that set off an intense craving for cheese and crackers. Where my subconscious went from BBQ salad and ice cream to cheese and crackers, I do not know. Just telling you like it is B&Gs.

At one point I asked him seriously if he would stand up and keep me from eating if I tried. He said ‘yes, because afterwards I would be mad that he let me.’ Yeah yeah…

… sooooo

… I waited for him to fall asleep.

Yeppers. Sure did.

I am a failure. A cheat. A loser. A pathetic, will-powerless EATER!

I can’t help that SS decided to watch a film, which is a synonym for ‘take a nap,’ and left me to my own defenses. Let me tell you, my cranky irritable self had laid all my defenses to rest.

So as I walked through the kitchen… back and forth as a kid might as he prepped to rob a cookie behind mum’s back… I gave in and cut a sliver of cinnamon bun to satisfy my mouth’s desire.


Well, you can’t eat just a sliver. It’s not even then. So I made it even… but eating the whole damn thing.

I went back upstairs and returned to my cleaning post as if nothing happened.

And in a matter of minutes the pain kicked in: The guilt, the disappointment, the frustration.

Figuring I had blown it, I hopped back down the stairs and noshed on the leftover chinese chicken in the fridge. Oh man it was gooood. Then back upstairs to continue wallowing in let-down.

And in a matter of minutes the pain kicked in: The stomachache.

My stomach had been full when I ate; I had just finished off three cups of lemonade to try to quell the hunger. My new little tight stomach had no room for a cinnamon bun and chicken. Soooo I pulled out the old college trick I used to use to entertain my roommate after a night of binge drinking. And I returned the food…

And as embarrassed as I am to admit this little scenario in public, not to mention on a BLOG accessible by anyone who can work the Google Box, it taught me a lesson. It showed me that I have back-up resistance. Kinda like skydivers have a reserve parachute in case their main fails to open properly. Well, when my will-power fails to persevere… I have guilt. So I can now rest assured that when my tough outer coating gives in to temptation setting me off track for whatever ridiculous, hard-to-acheive goal I am chasing, my guilty conscience will peek its head and scream at the top of its lungs: “LOOOOSER!”

Why thank you very much guilt!

After that little lesson I knew I had to complete this—whether it means anything to me or not. (And here I thought publicizing my endeavor was enough to trick my brain.)

So here I am confessing my slip-up to anyone and everyone who fancies reading this… all two of you. ha!

What was harder than that was admitting to SS that I am failed while he was asleep… I like to think he believes in me to complete the task, so admitting that I made a big “oops” wasn’t easy.

But I did…

And he replied…

“So, what tasted better? The cinnamon roll or the chicken?”