Daily Balzy

you make my finger throb

2013-02-07T22:01:00.001-08:00

It's one week till Valentines Day! This day creeps up on me every year. Every year, I totally don't notice all the pink and red bullshit on every end cap at every store. Every year, I don't notice large teddy bears holding hearts that say, "You're BEARY Special"- conveniently located where the toilet paper used to be. And every year, I don't notice all my single friends on Facebook, bitching about being single. So, THANK THE LORD, I got this email (see below-13 Easy Made Valentines) as a reminder of how to be a better mother for this special, special holiday with only one week to spare....

Okay, so I know it's probably bad form to copy another blog post it in it's entirety, so I will give credit where credit it due. Red Tricycle is a pretty cool site that sends you ideas on how to be the parent that you always wanted to be. You know, the one that goes out for dim sum and sews your kids clothes and whittles your own coffee tables and owns chickens and makes butter and listens to jazz and DOESN'T HAVE A 40 HOUR A WEEK JOB. I do love their emails. I do. And I have to admit, that these are great ideas. Great ideas that take a whole bunch-oh time. But let's get realistic about Valentines Day. First of all, I already have to plan three square meals that feature hearts for the big day- being conscience of course, not to use any additives or preservatives- so I'll use beet juice in my pancakes and make sure those out-of-season strawberries are organic. And isn't it enough that I have to hire Nate Berkus to design a Valentine mailbox for my son's school party- why should I have to get all Pinteresting with little cards for sticky kids to just merely glance at, throw away, and not even recognize how fricking clever I am?! I'm clever! Tell all your friends! Hide your kids! Hide your wife!

This stuff, and I'm not just talking about Valentines Day- all this shit- the Elf on the Shelf, the Leprechaun crap for St. Patricks Day, leaving bunny shit on your floor for Easter- all of this is for parents to "out" clever each other. And I just want every parent to know- you win. You won. You got the most clever prize! So, let's all slink back into mediocrity- where we get home at dinner time, fight to get a delicious and nutritious meal in our children's whining pie holes, struggle with their first grade math story problems, and get them to bed without screaming a broken blood vessel into our eyes. If you pay attention you'll notice that the energy we had to be clever has been spent cleaning out the litter box and loading the dishwasher. . . . Maybe not in that order.

Naturally, I've been wracking my brain for what cleverness I was going to bring to the first grade table this year for Valentines....

I figure that I should lean more on the educational side so...I'm going to hand out finger prick tests for diabetes. Here is some ideas for the spawn write on them:

"You're as sweet as diabetes!"
"I'm stuck on you!"
"Here's a prick for a prick!" (maybe for the principal?)
"I hope your sugar can start to metabolize it's self again, one day!"
"You're as sweet as honey...that probably makes your blood sugar spike, huh?"
"You make my finger throb."

Here's what Red Tricycle thinks....

Store Bought No More: 13 Easy Homemade Valentine’s Day Cards

Have a Ball Valentines
Not every Valentine has to include candy, right? This clever idea from Dandee Designs includes a fun toy that the little ones can play with even after the sugar high has subsided. Plus, they're just as economical as store-bought cards if you can score some cheap bouncy balls at your local dollar store.

Thumbprint Valentines
There are a thousand possible variations on this cute idea from Simply Kierste. Let your kiddo choose different paper colors and patterns, and they'll definitely love making their thumbprints and giving them cute faces.

Friendship Bracelet Valentines
Admittedly, these cards look pretty impressive, but they shouldn't take too much work. If your little one knows how to braid, put them to work on the bracelets while you print out the handy card template from Dandee Designs.

Photo Valentines
Jazz up some run-of-the-mill Valentine's candy with a cute photo of your kids and a pun or two, inspired by Lisa Storms. If your little one's old enough, get an assembly line going with staples or glue, and these will be done in no time.

Play-Doh Valentines
Here's another gift that keeps on giving: Play-Doh. Just add a fun label to the carton (Random Thoughts from a Supermom has a convenient printable), and the whole class will be sculpting hearts and flowers for their special someone.

"You Color My Heart" Valentines
If your kiddo loves to draw, this card from A Mom with a Lesson Plan just might be the perfect choice. Have your little Picasso draw a heart or other design for their friends to color in, and then add in a fun phrase on the computer. If you want to go the extra mile, tie a crayon onto the card and you're good to go!

Goldfish Valentines
Are you sensing a trend yet? It's true, everyone loves a good pun. Just think of a clever wordplay with a cheap gift or candy and your little ones will be happy to show off their valentines. For this one, just grab a box of goldfish crackers, pick up some cute boxes from a craft store, and snag Tammy Mitchell Designs' convenient printable.

Super Valentines
Does your superhero-loving kiddo want to go a different direction than the usual Valentine hearts and flowers this year? This adorable idea from Zakka Life just might fit the bill. With plenty of opportunities for cutting and pasting, it'll be easy to get the little ones involved in the project, too.

Bear Hugs Valentines
What kid wouldn't love these cute little snacks? This idea from Motherhood Moments is pretty simple--just fill up some plastic baggies with teddy graham crackers, then let the kiddos help you decorate them with messages to their friends.

Lollipop Flower Valentines
A Peek Inside the Fishbowl offers another take on the lollipop treat. Thanks to the printable PDF, this pretty card won't take too much effort, plus your little one will love toting a garden of lollies with them to school!

Smartie Pants Valentines
Okay, we know these look super complicated, but they're deceptively simple. To keep it easy, just download the free printable from Tip Junkie, then stick some smarties on top. If you want to take an extra crafty step, use the tabs on the template to make the pants 3D--the perfect pocket for your smarties.

I "Wheelie" Like You Valentines
If your kiddo isn't into the gushy stuff, try this new idea from Thirty Handmade Days. With a fun car, a cute pun, and of course, a bit of candy, this card is sure to be a hit in the classroom.

Bubbles Valentine
Every little one we know loves to play with bubbles! Have your kiddos help design the card or print out Simply Modern Mom's version, and then just tape a vial of bubbles on top (check the dollar store for great deals on packs of bubbles).

Go buy your kid a box of Justin Bieber Valentines and just know, we all applaud your $2.99 effort. And I would send you a Thank You card for bringing back the mediocrity, but I'm super busy being super clever.

I have nothing to say....really.

2013-02-05T11:28:00.002-08:00

Out of all the post's that I have made, there are 17 that have remained just "drafts". . .I noticed that out of that 17, there are 7 that are blank. Blank meaning that I sat down, with the intention to write, and I didn't. I simply started and didn't finish. That's why I'm writing right now. I have nothing to say. But I'm getting into the habit of "finishing" what I started. Quitting is pretty easy, and being a failure is a little more safe than knowing what winning is like.

With that being said, I quit today. I started out for a run with both dogs. Well, by definition, our newest dog is more of a ferret than a dog. Her name is Roxanne, and she doesn't have to put on that red dress. I tell her that often. She's a Chi-weenie. I don't make this shit up. That's what her ferret parents call her. I would post a picture, but I don't have my camera cord right next to me. Getting up isn't on my list of things to do today. And I don't have a smart phone. GAH. I know. Seriously. How can I live like this? I'm a savage. Anyhow- this morning was foggy, and with fog comes frosty streets, and with frosty streets comes asshole dogs who are so fricking pumped up...they straight up pissed me off. I've been running with the big dog, Stella, and I think that the addition of the ferret just threw her off. And squirrels getting busy (even though we're rounding the "spring" corner, right, groundhog? RiGHT?!) threw me off as well. After nearly busting my ass a solid 5 times in a few blocks, I turned around and told them they were going to go to the vet. Okay, just the ferret. We haven't bonded yet.

I've set out on this journey of getting real about being fat, or about being real fat- as Dr. Phil says...and I have to say, as much as it consumes my entire world, I don't want to be that person that talks about it all the time. Which is exactly how it's turned out. I want my body to speak of the life I live, but damn, it's hard work- and being excited about it and talking about it is one in the same for me. I hope that I inspire and not annoy. Which I'm sure that I don't annoy....it's so unlike me.

Sunday, I ran the farthest I have ever run in my entire life. I ran almost 5 miles (4.75) in one hour. It's not the best time, but I only had to stop once- due to the fact that I thought I was going to shit my pants. I needed to make sure that we got that hitter out of being "on deck" and back on the bench.

Yesterday, I had a fantastic workout. The one that makes you feel strong, powerful, and wanting to pull up a cot and never go home. Okay, I'd lay on the weird sticky foam floor. fine. It's seriously fun going there, and I have to say, although they are minor accomplishments in the terms of total fitness for the average Jo (female version), they are huge for me. Confidence is gaining, and pounds are losing.

Also, we're into day 5 of our 28 day NO SUGAR SMACKDOWN. I encourage you to try this. More so than just "no sweets" it's really bringing into the light how much sugar is in everything. Being conscience is the first step to changing behaviors and habits, so really focusing on what is going in your mouth....well, let's just say it's hard. *see what I did there?* I've been good. I went to three parties this weekend and didn't have one drink! I did however pour myself a glass of maple syrup...that's okay, right? I don't think it's too late to join the Sugar Smackdown, just click on the challenge loop link towards the bottom. And for the record, I'm chewing sugar free gum- it keeps the other shit out of my mouth.

Again, here is some motivation to what your body can do. Watch this guy. Of course, he's a got some gymnast in him, and for the record, people have shoved a wallet in my mouth (thinking I was having a seizure) when attempting a few of these moves. Now, if I could only get a new nose out of it....

muscle cow.

2013-01-22T05:56:00.001-08:00

Is this where I milk it?

Have you heard of muscle cows? Are these the cows that we're eating now? GMO beef. That's what it is. Which some people don't seem to have a problem with, being that they are "building a better cow". I seriously doubt that this cow is doing dead lifts or back squats. Just speculation, though. I could be wrong, this cow could do it's own version of farmgirlfit. Perhaps it's called bullshitfit.

Obviously, weight loss and maintaining resolutions is a big fucking deal- since every website has a slide show about it. Someday I'll be savvy enough to invite an eight year old over here to show me how to make a fancy slide show chalked full of shit you already know. I just got done reading this one on Yahoo about the "Secrets of Thin People"- turns out, through the duration of 14 slides, that thin people don't eat shit food and exercise. who knew? These are moments from my life that I can never get back.

Here is another stupid fact, it's not all about calories in and calories out. I've been adding more calories to my diet this week and I've been losing weight. Given, I was eating less than a 1,000 calories- but I wasn't ever hungry and I was living la vida paleo. I decided to add two servings of carbs back into my diet, for both breakfast and lunch. For lunch, I have a yam. I yam what I yam. And for breakfast, I decided to Google what was better for you, steel cut oats or quinoa...interesting stuff. First, I stumbled upon this forum, which forums are always funny: reading how idiots interact with idiots. I wish I had more hours of the day to sit in front of a computer...alone...with just my thoughts...and my cyber friends. Clicking away insults I could only carry out anonymously. I do enjoy people who take their health to the next level, and I enjoy reading their thoughts and motivations. I appreciate that they don't eat grains, or seeds, or cardboard, or cat shit. But, come on, don't get all up on your high horse about it. No one gives a damn...well maybe just a few people. If you don't feel like clicking on the link, one person on the forum is rude- so everyone chimes in about it. Mildly funny. shit. I need to get out more.

Final thoughts? Steel cut oats seem to have better nutritional value than quinoa. And quinoa is technically a seed and oats are a grain. Do you want to be a grain fed cow or a seed eating bird? You decide, America. This is American Idol. *I hope to hell that you read that in your Ryan Seacrest voice. He narrates my life.*

Moving on, I've been running now for the last two weeks, and I'm not talking about just my nose. I've decided to do a half marathon. At this point in my life, I've only done a few 5K's. Obviously the odds are in my favor to finish. There is plenty of time to train, so I'm not too worried about it, I'm just going to kick back and eat my muscle cow jerky. The goal of this first one is to finish. . .sans cardiac arrest. What has really helped with my running has been the ice cream truck going 60mph and my addition of lean muscle tacked on by farmgirlfit.There are the people that are meant to be the agile gatherers, and then there are the people who drag the muscle cow back to cave. I'm a dragger. I've always known that I've been on this side of "strong", mainly because of my childhood of being on the bottom of the human pyramid. And in my adult life of moving things like washers, dryers, and armoires. . ."Just strap it to my back!" But I have to say, I do love learning about form. I did my maximum dead lift weight last week of 165lbs. Last night was a great night of practicing form and lifting. I had a lot of fun. I never thought I would love lifting. And I love the smell of those nasty bar bells. And I love the feeling like you could snap your wrists in any moment. And I love a pasture of grass. It's the little things. . .like this cow's ass.

Faileo.

2013-01-15T00:23:00.001-08:00

Have I got a diet for you! The Faileo Diet is the only proven diet that you can stick to! The principles are easy, you set totally unattainable diet goals, and then when you can no longer even look another vegetable in the eye- you eat an entire chocolate cake. FAILEO!

Truth be told, I'm having success on the Paleo diet. . .if I would stick to it. If you aren't familiar with the Paleo diet by now, I bet you still are living in cave man times. So congratulations, you're eating the way you should without even knowing it. The perimeters of the diet are simple. Basically, you're eating the way our ancestors ate before the dawn of agriculture. During the times of hunting and gathering, there was no baking bread, refining sugar, and then deep frying it. That was a later revolution known as the dawn of the donut. And it was miraculous, especially with bacon on it. All meat and seafood are on this diet, all vegetables (except string beans- or any legume), and that's it. No rice, no flour, no beans, no dairy, no sugar, no donuts.

I honestly eat this strict for about 80% of the time. I've had marginal success with weight loss, being that I've lost 25lbs since September. Noticing that when I do break down and eat carbs, I lose more weight- makes me wonder if I'm getting enough calories. Why the hell does this have to be so hard? I've decided to do a modification to the diet, and eat steel cut oats in the morning, and then Paleo for the rest of the day. And then Faileo on the weekends. It's for the best. Making the decision to add more calories is probably best when I'm working out as hard as I am. Check me out.

Did you see me? I'm the fuzzy one lurking in the shadows. Play it again, you'll see me. . .lurking. Alright, fine. I do lurk, just not on this video. FarmgirlFit is a women only, Cross Fit gym. This gym opened in my neighborhood a little over a year ago, and has gotten rave reviews. I honestly thought that I had to be more in shape to even start going to FGF, but after I won a contest for a month free, I had no other choice. I had to face my fear of the reality of how far I let myself go. And get off the toilet because this gym scared the shit (literally) right out of me. When I started, I couldn't even do a sit up. Not one sit up. Now I can do two! Just kidding, I can do more than 100...and with FGF, your goals are always within reach and able to modify. There is no other way than up.

Speaking of 100- that's my number for how many pounds I need to lose. Being overweight has been an issue since puberty. I've had so many failed attempts, that I've been scared to put it out there again. **I know it's a shock to hear me say that I don't want to "put out", listen gutterheads, I was talking about the social networks.** But something is different this time. I realize that the same wind blows for everyone and that there isn't a certain set goal. You are always changing, evolving, and growing- so should your goals. Even though I have a number for my weight loss destination, who knows what it really will be. I guess I'll know when I get there. The journey has begun, I'll keep you updated here.

And if you find yourself in the whirlwind of a Faileo moment, take a deep breath and realize that you can always start over again. It's not over. It's everyday.

hiatus sounds like "HATE US?"

2013-01-10T06:13:00.001-08:00

When I opened my laptop, it was like a scene out of Indiana Jones. A giant book that was so loaded with dust, it was seriously almost soil. There were worms in my laptop. And crabs. When will these crabs go away?!

So...It's been a solid six month hiatus. Which, if it's any condolence, you've been on my mind, baby. I think about you every day. There I said it. Not that it's of any importance, but I do have a LIST of excuses. And we all know that excuses are like assholes- everyone has one and they stink. Or, the church version, excuses are like armpits- everyone has two and they stink. Why do the church goers get two excuses? Oh, because Jesus died for their first excuse...makes total sense now. Regardless, I have a LIST. This list can also be read as my recap of 2012, as well. See? Two birds. One asshole.

I would appreciate it if you would please read this LIST in the same manner that Matt Damon rattled off his brothers name in Good Will Hunting. Same south Boston accent. Do you remember that scene? Should I remind you?

Also, off the subject, what the hell happened to that alien headed actress? MINNIE DRIVER. I had to fricking Google her name. Remember when she was a little "fluffier" in Circle of Friends? I bet she's in jail for attacking somebody for a bag of peanut butter M&M's. That's what happens in Hollywood. Everyone should be carrying a gun to protect their M&M's from alien headed actresses.

Okay. In chronological order...THE LIST of excuses

Baby Daddy moved back in (January)- after a two year hiatus...see, a little hiatus can be good.
finished school (June)
got a job
passed my National Boards
bought another house
Baby Daddy's dad passed away- the same day we closed on our house. seriously horrible. (July 27th)
joined farmgirlfit
Spawn started a new school, two blocks from our new house.
ELECTION TIME!
Same sex marriage-PASSED!
Pot is legal-whoa, dude.
got another new dog.
Thanksgiving happened
then Christmas happened
Baby Daddy put a ring on it
I turned 35...waaaaah.
And now it's a damn new year.

I just remembered this, too. Here is another way you could use your Boston accent. My list isn't this long, so actually I feel like a douche canoe for making such a big deal over my hiatus excuses...but side note- I thought that this was a pretty funny movie. Not the funniest, but entertaining. Come on! The teddy bear was taking bong rips...and why is MY name in the list of white trash names, hmm?

I've been working a lot. If I'm not working at my actual job, I'm working out. If I'm not working out, I'm doing house work. Oh, and I graduated from school, but now I have to do first grade homework. And I'm betting that next year I have to do second grade homework. I'm a genius for figuring that out. Anyhoo- it's all fricking WORK. There is no excuse for a hiatus of such magnitude, but the last six months has been super busy- to say the least. Now, there is more balance, and a routine, and anal. I just had to make sure you're paying attention. Of course there is no balance in my life.

Stay tuned and so will I.

...rhymes with hoochie...

2012-07-01T10:08:00.001-07:00

Spawn has been reading like a 'mo 'fo now for the last few months. I can proudly say that it wasn't Catholic school that has taught him to read...no, it was SportsCenter. Thanks, ESPN. I owe you one. In the shower, we have a world map. He can read most of the countries, unfortunately for him, he's eye level with the complexities of South America and Africa to sound out. Luckily, for his self esteem, the good 'ole U.S.A. has all of the states and major cities listed. You can hear him in the shower saying the city, state, and the major league team associated with them. Then, yesterday, here is what I heard from the shower....

"Kansas City Royals, Doove Body Wash, Coooo-cheee"

Oh. Em. Gee.

they're for shaving, I promise.

I had a romance party in February, and I got some of this shaving cream. It's pretty amazing. It's like a wonderful peachy lotion. Needless to say, the tube is now on the top shelf, lying face down. Thank god that "massager" that I got doesn't have any writing on it.

Four Month Review, like a G Six

2012-06-30T10:06:00.001-07:00

I'm going to pull an "All My Children" maneuver and say that I've had amnesia. I didn't forget about you Internets, I just didn't remember. Truth be told, this was the most stressful four months of my entire life. And to prove it, I've got a crotch full of grey hairs to show you. Come over for a peek. No? That's weird of you.

When my classmates and I got back from our last spring break ever, our instructors dropped the Hiroshima of reality on us. Naturally, the knee-jerk reaction that I had was to sleep and eat. Some people lose weight, I find it. I can honestly say, with the exception of giving birth drug free, that I've never accomplished something so difficult. I'd rather take the road more taken. Yup. The nice wide freeway for me, freshly paved. I've never known so much stress.

In a matter of four months, one-third of a year, I've passed three major exams-one of which was my national boards, quit my antidepressants, gained twenty pounds, got three jobs, quit two jobs, planted a garden, dyed my crotch, sold my vintage trailer, watched Henry play basketball and baseball (now on to soccer), lost my virginity, ate quail for the first time, and BOUGHT A NEW HOUSE. probably shouldn't have quit those antidepressants. Hindsight's a bitch.

So now, school is done forever- which is still foreign to me. I'm catching myself thinking that I need to study. And then I shove my face full of raw Bisquick and peanut butter. Then back to reality that I'm done. I done passed and I done got an awesome job! I'm working in an orthopedic clinic- with bankers hours. In the world of health care- there's the hospitals, the clinics, and the back alley abortion clinics. Naturally, it's every girls dream to work in the latter. Obviously, hospitals are more stressful, more exciting, and more pay. I don't know if you know this, but hospitals are open like Kinkos- except on Christmas, too! take a minute to let that soak in...

I'm happy to take the bankers hours, less grey crotch hairs, and competitive wage. I love my office! Couldn't have asked for a better job, not only a full-time-benefited job BEFORE I graduated, but a JOB! During a recession! Only half of my class has found jobs, and only three of us have gotten full time. It's a Christmas miracle. And now we're moving into a new house in a great new neighborhood, two blocks from the best grade school here.

I'm just scratching the surface, but the point is- I'm back. And I'll fill you in on some more happenings, since we've gotten this logistical bullshit out of the way....

And now for a dance party. I wish the music was louder and the video was edited. But take what you can get, Internets!

ASsHole Wednesday

2012-02-23T04:18:00.001-08:00

Being Ash Wednesday, I had a lot on my plate. A lot of meat. I've been going to the gym at 5am to work out during the weekdays, but I had a chance to go after I dropped the spawn off at his school. Holy Shit. Apparently this is everyone's idea. And let me tell you, they weren't getting anybody clean and nobody was getting a good meal. From all I could tell, they were just fighting over parking spots. literally. So, I guess that kick boxing class paid off?

I opted to one lap in the parking lot and to then go walk the dog. That will take up an hour or so, and maybe this parking lot UFC match will settle down. At the dog park, there was no one. Not one dog. Not one owner. Not one meth addict. shocking.

Did our usual deal...and then it came. It came on like a freight train. And it wasn't going to stop...I had to take a shit. There was only a solid (and I use the term "solid" loosely) five seconds to come up with a game plan. It in involved two logs (one of which was produced), a large shrub on a mountain side, and two rocks. I would of dug a hole, but the ground was frozen. And I would have taken a poop bag up there with me, but I just realized that right now writing you. I don't clean up after my own dog's shit, how can I be held responsible for my own? I covered my log with a log and some rocks. Take that Caesar Milan!

Thank god for huge asses. How do skinny girls not get shit all over their clothes? My chunk kept everything nice and clean while I trotted back to the car and gingerly sat down to get myself back to Y....to get myself clean and to have a good meal. And to do whatever I feel.

Got home, checked the mail, and I got summoned for jury duty. On Ash Wednesday. And my jury date is for right before Easter. You know what that means? I'm setting free Barrabas. And then Pontius Pilate will wash his hands of the situation. History repeats itself. And, like everyone before me, I'm going to actually get out of engaging in my civil duty. Hooray being a full time student!

At this point in the day, I've already shit outside and felt shit on, so I decided we should spend some money at Costco. The wind had picked up to 400 miles an hour by this time. You think I'm exaggerating, this is what I saw on the way there:

Got in the door, and had to pull out my card. That goddamn wind blew $13 dollars out of my wallet. One dollar flew across Henry's eyes- just like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Then another dollar flew onto the ground and another went into the cart of an elderly Russian man. The ten, meanwhile, was off and running towards Idaho- thank god someone stopped it! We all know what happens in Idaho. I recovered 12 out of the 13 dollars. That Russian man had no clue what was going on, and I figure it probably made his day that he found a dollar in his box. It makes my day....

Spent some money, ate some food, and was feeling better. On our way out, we went over and filled up the gas tank. Opened the door (for the nozzle to go in...*that's what she said*) and the FUCKING WIND blew off my gas door. My gas door. ON the GROUND. I was so shocked that this was even possible, I had to tell somebody about it! So, I picked up the door and showed the lady next to me, and according to her reaction she thought one of three things: 1) "this is nothing new, happens all the time" 2) "why would you pull your door off?" 3) "If I roll my eyes and turn my back, this random crazy lady will stop talking to me" Good tactics. I should have walked over and bitch slapped her with my door because this event required a much better reaction than what she gave me. seriously? You can't fake "shock and awe" for me? What is this world coming to? Now I know how my city treats people after natural disasters strike.

And I wish I had a bag of shit. kinda.

Wednesday's with Your Balz

2012-02-22T12:53:00.002-08:00

I've decided to rename the blog. I think this title is fitting, being that it will take a load off of me. literally.

I'll recap over the week of all the doings that have been keeping me away from writing to you. Actually, I've been writing to you this entire time...IN MY HEAD. I've been having a conversation with you, Internets, for quite some time. But today, the beautiful sunshine came out, and I decided to get out of my head and into this little box...."little box". I haven't heard that since the day the spawn was born...and they decided to "add a couple stitches"...

Being in my head is atypical for this time of year. It's pretty dismal here during the winter. Although this has been an amazing winter, weather wise, but the lack of green on the trees and the gray skies tend to drag you inward.

I've noticed that the "not quick-enough results" was my latest trigger. Always the resoluter, I begin to fall off the wagon this time of year when only 10 pounds is lost and the introduction of Cadbury Mini Eggs is found. Oh, and add that Baby Daddy gets on the wagon and drops 20lbs with one sneeze...And then BAM! back to feeling sorry for my fat ass again. And I'm sure you know what will make me feel better... a bag of said Eggs. Then wallowing in my shitty life one pastel delicacy at a time, until my tongue bleeds.

But I decided, today, that I'm sticking with this. That working out and eating right is who I am, not a failure. And that this is how it is....for the rest of my fucking life. I do have to admit, it's true what they say: it's harder to lose weight after you've had a kid. Man, it's a fucking up hill battle, but I'm winning. And that's the take home message today. It's an up hill battle, but think how great your thighs will look after climbing that hill! And some laser hair removal. Oh, and some cold lipo...WHAT?! I'm not 22 anymore.

**Check in tomorrow- I'm on a writing spree today...**

Just a Bill sittin' on Capital Hill

2012-02-11T05:04:00.000-08:00

Our state has passed a historic bill (that now is a law...which if you need a refresher on how a bill becomes a law...and why isn't School House Rock on anymore?) on marriage equality. Naturally, it's been in the news. Henry got a glimpse of it and immediately asked about "two guys can get married? where?!" So I turned off the TV and had one of the proudest moments of my parenthood. I told him that some people think that they can tell you who to love and who to spend your time with. I then went on to say that our state doesn't agree with that. We think that everyone should love and marry whomever they want to marry. And then Henry stood up on the bed and said, "YES!! I'm going to marry a BOY!" Obviously this is the smartest, cootie-free path to take...

I'm so proud to be from a state that recognizes everyone equally in sharing the commitment and terror of marriage. We should all be able to suffer through this together. And have free health care so we can talk to our marriage therapists for considerably less than $250 an hour.

Our state is literally divided by a mountain range. On the west side, we have the awesome liberals. On the east side- Idaho. I live on the east side, which is showing mass progress in the liberal side of things- but still, we're a solid ten years behind Seattle. We just learned about the internet. seriously. Everyone seems to share the same opinion about marriage equality...except the sexist homophobes. And when I start talking about it, I shut them up pretty fast. I pretty much quote this verbatim:

There really isn't an argument after you spew this. It's none of your damn business. Just like you don't want anyone telling you what to do (or telling you what Jesus thinks, or what kind of gun he had...)

I know that people are going to fight this law, but I support it 100%. There is no going back now! I can't wait to go to some awesome gay weddings! You know what will bring our economy back? gay wedding registries. FACT.

Walla Walla is on the conservative east side. Walsh is a republican from a small farm district. Now I feel bad for lumping all republicans together...sorry guys! This video has almost a million hits, YAY for progress!

In another non related issue, Henry came home from school yesterday and proclaimed that he had been kissed at school. On the lips. After he said "no". From a boy. Turns out, it's the troublemaker in the classroom. It was taken care of, and Henry stood his ground on not wanting a kiss in a non violent protest. What can I say, he's a progressive kindergartener...which is pretty irresistible.

Super Bowels.

2012-02-06T00:47:00.000-08:00

**Like every great American, I was busy cleaning out my computer today- during the Super Bowel. I came across this old paper that I wrote two years ago and thought that I would share it with you. Ummm, it's satirical- just to avoid any hate mail.**

Casey M Balzano, Esquire.
Anatomy and Physiology 242
Cole, The Great, 7:30 Lecture

A Case for Carnies


In the Case of Dwarfism, we are given the facts of two parents wishing to have a heterozygous carrier of the gene present in their child, which is the cause for achondroplasia dwarfism. The fetus would be terminated if it was a dominant carrier of the gene, making it not survive through infancy; and also terminated if it was a non carrier of the gene, thus making it an average height person. My personal feelings toward this couple and their situation rests on three familiar subjects. Touching upon the core values of the “experts” who handle such cases, the Hippocratic Oath, and the novel Geek Love by author Katherine Dunn.

Whilst marinating in the raw emotion that this case presented, the list of the so-called “experts” (who review these cases) and the words that describe their “core values” lured my attention. Instantly, I looked to see what I felt was the most important value to be taken into consideration within any case, let alone mine. I believe that autonomy is ranked in the prime locale. Being able to make decisions is what our life is about. Deciding what is best for you is the beauty of your life. The unique experience that you have inside your crazy head is only available when you open your crazy mouth. Thus, it is an honor to dwell in thine own crazy. The Supreme Court has made it’s ruling, and it will never be reversed. If you wish to abort your fetus, for whatever reason, you can. Bravo. If these people wish to rid the world of their average sized person, to each their own. That’s is their choice. Who’s going to miss another average kid anyhow? Not me. I’m sure that you’ve had your fill of average as well, Cole. Probably rubbing your eyes at this average attempt at a spectacular paper….

When Hippocrates wrote the Hippocratic Oath, he was probably drunk on ether. Just kidding, but I’m sure that he never had the thought of this dilemma enter his philosophical mind. They may not have even had achondroplasia dwarves back then, wait…they might have been court jesters. I digress. Within the Hippocratic Oath, it states: “I will neither prescribe nor administer a lethal dose of medicine to any patient even if asked nor counsel any such thing nor perform the utmost respect for every human from fertilization to natural death and reject abortions that deliberately takes a unique life.” The first thing that comes to my mind while reading this is the lack of grammar skills. Hello run-on sentences! The second thing, and most important, is the last two words, unique life. Which would be considered the unique life in this situation? The world is full of average sized people, so commence the aborting. In a world of average, nothing teaches tolerance better than more diversity. Life lessons are built around exiting your comfort zones, and there is nothing wrong with presenting the world with something unique to make us all better people.

Speaking of something unique is the most fascinating book that I read about a decade ago. In the novel, Geek Love, Katherine Dunn emerges you in the life of sideshow circus freaks. Keeping their family freak status alive, the Binewski family alters their pregnancies on purpose to ignite a dying family business. Ingesting various drugs and radioactive material alter the genes of their children. Some of the uniqueness of their spawn includes an albino hunchback dwarf, a pair of Siamese twins (is that plural or singular?), and a boy with flippers for both the hands and the feet. This was seriously a riveting read, and I urge you to pick the book up when you’re not reading extra credit; of course, consider yourself warned- this is not for the faint of heart. But it is so poignant and beautifully written. It makes a strong case for carnies, and in a land where you can do what you want to your own body, it reaffirms that if the world isn’t ready for it- this is the time for change. Besides, who would run the Tilt-A-Whirl if our world was “carny” free? Naturally, I joke about the term carny and I mean no ill will towards achondroplasia dwarves. I’m simply drawing a similarity between altering your genes to produce your desired outcome. To produce more unique people, let’s go for it. To produce more drones who look like the next boy band or reality show stars- not so much. We’ve got plastic surgery to endorse that.

In conclusion, in a world where average reigns and freaks are outcasts, perhaps we could turn the tables and celebrate the freaks. Within the rights of autonomy, in the view of Hippocratic Oath, and in regards to Geek Love; I support the dwarf couple and their desire to carry on the dwarf gene. And on a side note, in my own homage to abortion, I thought of starting my own clinic/pedicure shop. So when your feet are up in the stirrups, you have pretty toenails to keep you occupied. The name? Keep the Feet, Lose the Fetus. Did I go too far?

born to eat

2012-01-29T14:44:00.000-08:00

Holy bejeebus! It's been a week. And all I have for you is some hard core hydrochloric acid bubbling up in my esophagus. Baby Daddy (ala "Sugar Daddy") has started the "moving-in" portion of our life show. It's stressful, and thank the god-of-my-lack-of-gag-reflux that I can swallow....TUMS WHOLE. mindsinthefuckinggutternets.

I'm sure that you all have heard of the best selling book, "Born to Run". It's the book that started the barefoot running phenomenon. Pretty positive that it also plays a real vital part in the life of the Barefoot Contessa, too...if running after a donut truck counts. Speaking of donut trucks, at the hospital on Friday I saw a pretty hefty man (of the barrel-chested variety) sporting the Vibram Five Finger shoes.

I thought that it was pretty ironical to see such a huge guy wearing these shoes...not that I'm not the definition of irony. I wear yoga pants as much as possible, and from what I understand, sitting on my couch and saying "nom" while shoving cupcakes in my mouth isn't quite yoga. *side note- when is this cupcake craze going to end? I'm ready to move back to full size cakes....* The basis of the shoes, and the book, is that we were designed to chase and hunt our food- barefoot. So, through the years, we have lost a lot of the muscle tone through improper footwear. And, running barefoot (or with the Five Fingers) will rebuild that muscle. And make you super cool. They're a little creepy for me, still.

Working side by side of orthopedic surgeons, they won't hesitate to tell you that if you're not in the correct BMI percentage, (like 75% of America) you should stick to some cushions for your kicks. Especially for your joints. When you run, you exert 3 times your body weight on your skeletal system. So starting out thick, according to doctors I've spoken with, you should have a little shock absorption. Here is a picture of me and BD on the beach with the sand not between our toes:

As an aspiring x-ray tech, I take a lot of pictures of running injuries. A lot of knees, a lot of feet with bone spurs, compression fractures, etc. But it is a proven fact that running increasing your bone mass and increases joint function. Speaking of joint function, I've never taken an x-ray of any yoga accidents. Which brings me to this awesome video...

She's totally from a circus family. I bet she has poodle balancing on a ball behind her. Out front is her Fiat with 43 clowns in it. In order to get to her car, she has to strap herself to a monkey, which is strapped onto a badger, which is strapped to a emu that has his neck wrapped around the trapeze. *side note-I'm hungthefuckover*

All in all, we should strive to run...for our food. Or, we could go through the evolution process of "survival of the fittest" and earn our food the smart way....by wearing these:

E.T.A. D.O.A., fyi

2012-01-22T06:43:00.000-08:00

Baby Daddy and I decided that we probably should move in together. We're all about being conservative and traditional, so naturally, "first comes the baby, then you move in, then you get married"...just like that catchy kids tune. I have a great house that I've owned for almost seven years, and I love this place. no, seriously. I want to marry it. BD thinks that it's a bad neighborhood. pfft! So naturally, the compromise was to see what we could do financially at this time.

Turns out, America isn't giving out loans for 200K to unemployed college students anymore. WTF, Obama? What an asshole! That's the last straw, I'm voting Republican!

On the upswing, BD can buy a house! I guess it really does pay to have a good job- literally. We've been on the house hunt since Black Friday. I was seriously thinking that we would get a good deal for getting up so early, turns out the phrase "DOORBUSTER" isn't what I thought it was, and 3am is still really early for some folks. Don't point your gun at me, you're the one with the FOR SALE sign on your lawn. . .

We found one house, a block away from a bar. We put an offer on it. The sellers didn't want to sell it. I guess they just wanted a reason to clean it and have people over. Then we found a house that I fell in LOVE with (don't tell my current house- it's not considered cheating if I haven't slept in it, right?) that needed a roof. pffft! minor details. . .We then found a house that was amazing. Ah-MAZE-ing. And we saw it and we put an offer on it and the sellers accepted it! How exciting! The neighborhood I want, with a huge yard, with a view of our city, only a block from an awesome park where some cop killed his wife 20 years ago, and a short bike ride to the school we want the spawn to attend for free! Too good to be motherfucking true. And speaking of motherfucking, Internets... two words- short motherfucking sale.

The house fell through because even though the sellers agreed and the offer was above the appraisal value, the bank was being a bag of dicks. Luckily, our realtor warned us of the high chance that most short sales don't go through. And luckily for my fantastical brain, I didn't hear him. I was too busy looking at Apartment Therapy and decorating it. The nail in the coffin of this house was that my friend was giving away a 9' Christmas tree after the said holiday...and I took it. Because our new house had 12' ceilings....waaaaaaaah! I'm to blame for the house falling through. That was the official jinxing. fuck.

Back to square one. As all of this was going down, my lovely tenants moved out, my plumbing decided to shit out (literally, ewww), and I had to get a new hot water heater. Not to mention the lovely holiday sponsored by Discover Card, and the mere fact that I am still an unemployed college student, makes for some shaky ground. Deciding to maintain our faithfulness to this house (and to be more fiscally responsible), BD is moving in. And instead of calling him "Baby Daddy" we're changing his name to "Sugar Daddy". We're still looking for a house, just not voraciously. And just because I'm not buying a new house, doesn't mean that I'm not still looking at decorating ideas. Look what I'm going to do with the bedroom after he moves in...

See what I did there? It's like you're dead when you get married to someone, right? Right! Or so I've heard, I've never been married. I'm just a slut. But I'm popular. And look at the color, deep red. Like living in HELL. I did decide to Google "caskets"- which I encourage all of you to do. . .at your parents house. . .and leave the browser open. . .makes for a great start to your Chinese New Year. Anyhoo- I was browsing around and I found this gem.

It's FOR REAL. Seriously. Do you think Steve Jobs is in there? I'm pretty sure he had more class than that. But here is a great website of where I found it and if you're thinking of going the all natural way. On that note, I think it's a great idea- and if I wasn't donating my body to marine science at Sea World- I would totally do it. But did you see the cardboard casket? Isn't that a little too green? You don't want some neighborhood kid trying to get to China with a spoon coming across your week old remains wrapped up in the Sunday Funnies, would you? damn you, Internets. Think of the fucking children. Well, not the fucking children...that's just disgusting.

In conclusion, we're dying to move in together. See what I did there?

eye BALLZ

2012-01-19T00:07:00.000-08:00

During my time with Kathy Lee and Hoda today, on the elliptical, a certain commercial caught my eye. . or should I say, eyelash?

what. the. fuck. You can take a pill to grow your eyelashes? No 'stach- reducing pill? No monobrow-reducing serum you can put in your coffee? No back hair-reducer in the form of a thick hot syrup that rips it off with strips of cloth. . . I bet the same scientists are behind this "technology" that are the ones that can't seem to calculate a male birth control pill. "Um, yeah, math is hard, but eyelash technology is cake." Keep up the good work, science. I'll try to remember to bat my eyelashes at you instead of taking a bat to your balls.

showers. period.

2012-01-18T00:21:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I went to the big city. One of my besties is having a little baby named Kevin. Or Bruce. Or Skywalker JuJu Coconut Handlebar. They're still undecided. In order to properly welcome babies into the world, we throw showers. Although, through experience, babies aren't really fond of showers, especially this one:

But babies love firetrucks! And you know what's on firetrucks? Firemen. duh. And hoses that spray high pressure water. Calm down. Damn, you Internets, you always take me down the wrong path. Jeez the Christ the Lord (this my spawn's new saying. The jury is still out if it's sacrilegious.) Here...I'll make it up to you...

Looks like someone needs a shower. seriously. That baby just had a blow out.

On the way to the big city, there is this magical place called an outlet mall. I'm not a shopper. If I was, I'll tell you what, the first store I'd be looking to buy a little black dress at would have the word "BARN" in it's title. Really? The Dress Barn? Thank god there was so many available parking spots! What could make this place better is if they served biscuits and gravy when you walk in the door, and a tub of Crisco was provided in the fitting rooms (fitting "stalls"?) to help you slide into that dress. I'll look into franchising this...

After travelling for four hours, I was meeting up with my friends at another trendy mall in Seattle. So, after I got done Crisco-ing my thighs, I went back to my car to get the essentials to change in the bathroom. The parking spot next to me was vacant. Naturally, I took my time getting my belongings out of the front seat when I heard a car turning. I looked up, behind my hawt ass, there was a Buick with an extremely pissed off woman. Her roots were showing. I'm pretty sure that was the sole source of her anger. . .not that I was taking up two spots in front of the beloved BARN.

We made eye contact, and with grand gestures-all the while attempting to drop her transmission off in the parking lot- she slammed her Buick in reverse, and I believe caused herself a mild form of whiplash. Poor dear. Since I hail from recovering cathaholics, the guilt was all up in me. Quickly, I grabbed a tampon from the glove box. I furrowed my brows, shrugged my shoulders, and waved it high like the motherfucking flag on the Fourth of July. She immediately softened her face, smiled warmly, and gave me the "oh, that's fine! take all the time you need, old pal!" hand/mouth gesture, as she calmly put her car in park. It's like she was listening to some Lionel Ritchie in there...

And she stayed there, till I finished putting that tampon in. . .right there in the Dress Barn parking lot at the outlet mall, with my leg propped up on the hood of my Volvo. vulva? It's womby. wow. Sorry, mom. Anyhow, it really struck me as strange that the shedding of our uterine lining can really build a bridge. Another solid visual. Seriously, though. One second there is hatred and then -BAM- love and understanding. Perhaps if we all carried one up our sleeve at all times, there wouldn't be any wars. Or at least all The Real Housewives series would be cancelled. ummmm....on second thought....HORRIBLE IDEA. Who would I relate to on television?

But the shower went great and we're all pretty stoked that little Handlebar is en route. It's pretty awesome that a missed period is celebrated more then the flow in a parking spot. period.

it's the circle of life. a small circle.

2012-01-15T18:07:00.000-08:00

Hey Internets! How the hell have you been? I've been busy and moody, so moosy...thanks for asking. It was a long week which I will hash out one glorious detail at a time. But first, I wanted to share a bit of news for you, I hope you're sitting down. On the pot. Or on a bike seat. Or on the chest of a scrawny five year old boy...that's where I am.

It was announced that Paula Deen...wait for it...oh, gosh- it's such a shock...has the DIABETES! NOOOOOOOOO. I don't know what even to say...so, I'll share a picture.

I found this picture a long time ago, and I've been waiting for the perfect time. Thank PD's pancreas over working to produce the proper insulin! Look what else I found on the clicking journey...

Is this for real? Really? This will make my liquid diet way more exciting! Which sparked me into making a nice coke glaze for my bacon this morning. I considered replacing my Hollandaise sauce, but come on, it's Sunday. Plus, what else am I going to sop up with my Old Fashion donut? Hold on, I need to wrap this rubber band around my heart. . .

I think that this piece of artwork belongs in the Louvre. And maybe at a local Sizzler, too. This picture should be on the huge video screen at sporting events during the singing of the national anthem. (Which we went to a hockey game last night and the entire stadium won free Chalupas from Taco Bell. I love Chalupas, so I took the time to look up their nutritional value, in case you're wondering...) Too bad Bob motherfucking Ross wasn't here to paint happy little broccoli bushes. But then again, we're talking America, folks!

Anthony Bourdain said that Paula Deen is the worst person in the world to represent "American Cooking". He said that she is setting a horrible example of how Americans should eat. Although, I'm pretty sure he's still smoking bare ass Pall Malls, so let's not be so quick to judge...but, she responded to his criticism by saying. "Come over to my house, y'all. Let me cook for you and then we'll see what y'all say!"

I hope she's making him some lasagna. Obviously, the diabetes is nothing to joke around about, so that's why I'm on the straight and narrow to lose these lbs. Come on America, resolve with me...forever. Cause you know, I always resolve till St. Patricks Day, and then it's back on the Deen Train for the next ten months. Damn green beer and Jesus candy, you get me every time!

FURprise!!

2012-01-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

**I'm off to the big city for the weekend, so I thought that I would repost something from exactly a year ago...my, how time flies when you're having fun...**

Tonight Henry asked for spaghetti with meat sauce. I was impressed, he said "meat sauce". Then he added, "no fur." I had to turn around in the kitchen, "what?" He went on to say, "you know, fur." as he was tugging on his hair. Nice. I'm Italian, so I've gotten used to the hair jokes through the years, but fur? Well, if fur is defined by pelt like hair, I guess my neck beard qualifies.

Currently, I'm in the rotation of the operating room for my clinicals. Today was an exciting day because: 1) it was busy 2) they were mainly trauma situations 3) I have a crush on the surgeon.
*what can I say, I love men that are good with knives.* It makes for a long day, 8 hours on your feet, just standing there, waiting for a surgeon to rip off his face mask and pass over the sterile field to make out with you. Throwing you on the table on top of the patient. Thank god he's intubated. Instead of getting bored or impatient, I decided today to think of things that would be soooo hilarious in the operating room at that very moment. A pinata, a swarm of locust, Kevin Spacey...you know, the usual suspects. The best had to be a feral cat. Oh, damn that kitty! First, the kitty would saunter in, rubbing up against everyone all lovey-dovey. Then, someone would say, "Is that a cat?" "Is that cat scrubbed in?" Naturally the surgeon would say, "Casey, take off your clothes and scrub that pussy in." Then, mayhem would ensue! Trying to catch that damn kitty! Running and clawing all over the blue sterile field! Turning all the trays that are set up and climbing all over the bloody patient, leaving bloody paw prints all over. All the while the surgeon is yelling, "Will someone please get this pussy cat a gown and gloves?!" "Has this kitty been autoclaved?!" There was a definite chuckle and I'm sure I murmured under my breath, "crazy cat..." Tufts of fur all over the monitors...cats in hospitals= serious comedy.

On another fur-related note, I'm having a hard time naming this dog. Perhaps it is because I know that I shouldn't keep it, and I'm stumped. I have always been able to name a pet instantly, and this one is just not coming to me. So far, she's being called, "puppy"- I don't know where I got it from. SO- help me NAME THE PUPPY and I'll send you a FURprise!!

Name the puppy and I'll send her to you!! Just kidding (well, kinda) I do need help in naming her and I also need potty training tips for a little dog in the middle of freezing winter. PLEASE, for the love of GOD- help me...Who wins the contest gets 1) bragging rights 2) a cup of coffee.

Here are some things to keep in mind:

1) it's a girl
2) my other dog is named "Stella"
3) she's a little dog with a bossy personality
4) Henry needs to pronounce her name, and "L's" are on the hard side;)
5) Be creative!!

Awesome. Thanks Internet.

**AND we no longer have that puppy! hahahahaha. I should have known. tsk tsk tsk**

...jumping pews...

2012-01-04T00:00:00.000-08:00

About a month ago, I had a bout of insomnia. Insomnia hits once a month, and boy, I'm always really happy when it comes around. I greet her with a bright cup of cheerfulness. Too bad that cup of cheerfulness drains dry by hour three. Then I greet her with a lung biscuit full of hatred for the next 12 hours. While I was sitting at my table, staring into the angry fuzzy space that is "hour four", I heard something in my ceiling.

Hallucinations are common in my life, and to be frank, most welcome. But I know that this wasn't like seeing the wall melting (most Tuesdays), because the dog shot up, tilted her head and started barking at it...

I ran up to the loft, where Henry sleeps. Turned on the light, blew an air horn in his face, looked for the noise, told him to stop screaming, and came back down stairs. This critter was in the wall. DAMNIT. The sound is how I envision what Vern Troyer sounds like when eating a Triscut. Speaking of Triscut's, have you tried the Olive Oil ones? I miss them already. Damn you end of the world that I have to look great in a bikini for...

you know it sounds like a quick-loud gnawing

So, there I sat. Paralyzed with so many emotions-sleepy, angry, disbeliefy, pissy, confusedy. Sounds like I'm SnowfuckingWhite, complete with the woodland creature. It sounded bigger than mouse, but smaller than a breadbox, so that leaves beavers out. Beavers are WAY bigger than breadboxes. And way more womby-ier, too. I think it's a toss up between a squirrel and a bobcat.

What makes matters better for my shingles, that is triggered by stress, is that my cat just sits and stares at the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Under the kitchen sink- where I'm pretty sure there is a bobcat/squirrel door so there is easy access. Every night, there's our stupid fat cat- paying close attention to the door. I haven't heard the sound again, but Aunt Insomnia hasn't stopped by for a visit in a bit, either. Perhaps all the creatures like peace and quiet in order to play with their nuts. I'm sure you know how I feel about that...

However, I can't get this damn song out of my head. . .

...marital bliss...

2012-01-03T19:24:00.000-08:00

I was perusing, Internets, and I came across this list. http://www.babble.com/mom/work-family/top-mom-bloggers/ Its the top 100 Mom Bloggers. I wouldn't consider myself a "mommy blogger", I feel those are left to the people who tell you how to be a mom. If anything, I'm a non-mommy blogger, someone who might steer you in the way of picking out a kitten or a fish. (*Dogs are just as needy as kids, just less sticky and a different stank.) Regardless, I would love to someday be on one of these lists, and by my research- it appears these ladies make a living from writing. And a lot of them used to be Mormon. . . Here I am missionaries, take me to your leader. I can't wait to be on my own planet with my sister wives. After the conversion, I should maybe learn how to use this fandangled bullshit time machine concerning photographs and be a better blogger, too. "Love can build a bridge."-Wynonna

Anyhow, I came across this blog, http://thegirlwho.net/ which I found quite readable, a strong statement being that it's not a moving picture or doesn't have kittens involved. There was one post that was really awesome and I think that every person; married, single or spousified, should read.

http://thegirlwho.net/journal/2011/9/7/whos-the-asshole.html

If you're not in a clicking mood, then I'll give you the recap. Basically, Monica, who is married to Serge, is pissed off about his need of having a fan running while he sleeps. It's pretty spot-on with any pet peeves that you have about any person. The thing that was most brilliant about this post was the comments below that the readers chimed in with what bugs them about their spouses...goddamn. IF these comments aren't the case for marriage equality, I have no idea what is! Everyone should be allowed to hate as much as married people do. And I do have to say, the majority of the complaints involved snoring, eating, and breathing. My major complaint, would be that of driving slow. Oh, and when he backhands me in busy restaurants. That's so embarrassing!

Here is just a few...

I will be home nice and cuddly watching my tv shows when my husband comes home. He walks in sits down
and starts talking to me. About his day, about what i've been doing, what i'm watching. He talks over the television.

It takes every little piece of restraint not to throw the remote at his face.

September 7, 2011 | Charity

I HATE how my husband eats/chews olives. I know it's the dumbest thing to hate, and it doesn't make any sense. But I seriously want to SCREAM every time he "pops" one in his mouth (he like leans his head back and kind of throws it in) and makes this weird clicking sound when he chews. I also hate how he says chinese (as in chinese food) ,and how he always grabs his balls and then all of a sudden decides it's time to make a bottle for our 5 month old daughter, but that is another story for another time.

September 7, 2011 | Teres

Mike clears his throat constantly and it creeps me the fuck out. Also, I'm extremely frugal and he will buy a t-shirt or a hoodie and I will completely lose my shit because he has a closet full of t-shirts and hoodies and only manages to ever wear the same 2-3 t-shirts and hoodies over and over and over and over.

We sleep in separate rooms. I love him dearly but I just can't deal with his snoring.

September 7, 2011 | Wendy P.

He makes a horrible noise when he is eating grapes. And he eats a lot of grapes, after dinner, on the couch, while watching tv. I stay there, next to him, hating him and his chewing, waiting for the noise to end. My thoughts go from: "How can he possibly eat so much grape" to: "If he doesn't stop I'll kill him, yes, another one and I'll kill him".

Sometimes I take some from his dish, and I eat it, just to make the noise finish sooner. Not because I want some grapes, just 'cause I want that thing to end as soon as possible.
Then he finishes, we cuddle, and I love him again. But still. I hate him while he does that.

September 8, 2011 | Serena from Italy

I know that my husband is basically a wild animal. I have come to terms with his sleep-drooling, farting, cover thieving ways. But THE SNORING. How has his face not caved in on itself? I've resorted to ear plugs and subliminal training. You know, when you whisper a command to him and he obeys in his sleep? "Turn over, honey" I'll say, and he does. Sometimes I feel guilty when I say it multiple times and he ends up falling off the bed, but mostly I don't.

September 7, 2011 | Jen

Maybe we should talk about the things that dont annoy me about my husband. That would be shorter, because it's fucking NOTHING.

September 7, 2011 | Gabbie

I don't even know where to begin! He's a Fan Guy (apparently it doesn't matter that I'm fucking freezing every day of the year) and a Loud Sneezer (I think I'm going deaf from his sneezes). Every room in the house is called "the room". Like, "Did you put some more toilet paper in the room?" or "Did you unload the groceries in the room?" I don't know because I don't know which room you're talking about, douchebag!

We also have the Tree Hugger wars. We're just a bunch of yuppies but you'd think we were Al Gore incarnate the way we freak out on each other about recycling and water waste. He freaks out if I throw out anything that can be recycled. Old sour cream containers (with old sour cream still in it), a price tag on a shirt, a straw wrapper! He'll pick them out of the garbage and then show me what I tried to sneak past him instead of recycling, like 'Aha! I caught you not recycling!' Everything in the house has to be recycled! Meanwhile, he hoses off the sidewalk for 30 minutes instead of sweeping it, or washes one shirt at a time in the washing machine. Really dude? I can't throw away an envelope but you can just use waste water like there aren't thirsty African children who want it too?

One of us is going to save the planet, dammit.

September 8, 2011 | Kat

handegg

2012-01-02T09:18:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, a bunch of guys were sitting around and picking their teeth on a nice fall day. They started speaking jibberish and within that confusing speak, invented a game. The game is called football. Naturally, all around the world- football is known as football. We call it soccer, because we are a bunch of assholes.

You probably have no idea what football is, being that it's not a big deal. A very obscure sport that attracts the same type of sports fan that lacrosse and polo do. Basically, the idea of the game is to get the handegg into the area where there is a word painted on the field - IN ALL CAPITALS. Easy. Done. Oh, then there is a fuckton of other useless rules that don't make sense. However, if you ask anyone who knows the rules, you're the asshole for not understanding it. First and 10, Second and Goal, Third and Seventy, Forty Sixth and Eleventy. crazy talk. Off sides, holding, pass interference, travelling, high sticking, muff diving, smurfing, pancake, catheters. I don't know how much the ref's make, but goddamnit, if you need to know what the penalties are for pancake- it's worth at least $13.

Back in the day, when the guys were picking their teeth, football looked like this.

Notice that there are only dozen of these guys? They were both the offensive line and the defensive line. They didn't wear helmets, they wore leather head condoms. These men didn't take steroids, they drank goat jizz. This is what football was supposed to be. I've studied sports physiology, and I can tell you- no matter how much you're in shape- your body isn't supposed to handle THIS attacking you for a little handegg.

Obviously, this isn't the norm in professional handegg. They are built like a brick wall, not a full term pregnant amazon woman. My point is, though, this isn't how football started! Football didn't start with tons of protection, steroids, HUGE dudes, that are out to kill you over a little handegg. And this is what I'm telling my frothing-at-the-mouth-for-all-things-handegg son. I respect football and all of it's fanfare. I respect the weather conditions in which it is played, and I respect all 145 college bowl games that are on today. College ball is much more enjoyable for me to watch, being that I want to take a nap on their tight little asses. Young bodies, playing for the love of the-confusing-as-shit game, without millions of dollars and annoying touchdown dances. But the NFL, the handegg goes a few yards, they all fall down, and cut to commercial. It's painful to watch. And the score is 54 to 7, let's insist on playing out that last quarter. EVERY BLOODY SECOND. oh, and don't you worry. I know the argument. Fantasy Football Stats.

Why the hell is there now an imaginary league? College, NFL, AFC, and all 145 bowl games, playoffs, wildcards, off season, pre-season, and arena football- not enough? I understand. So, go get angry and pout for your imaginary team loss. I understand. Seems reasonable. I'm thankful that it's just a season, and my impressionable almost six year old will move on with spring training. Here's looking forward to baseball!

it's the end of the world as we know it

2012-01-01T10:12:00.000-08:00

This year, I resolve to:

Use more carpet cleaner. . .like Resolve.
Not use plates, we're eating off of lead paint chunks and old pieces of fiberglass.
Feed my family a diet consisting of only items found in boxes. Yeah Helper!
Inhale more.
Walk less.
Let my hair dread naturally.
Entertain a family of fruit flies throughout my house.
Move out of my house and into my trailer.
Read less.
Watch more of The Talk.
Spend more time at the casino.
"Spawn, Belt." "Belt, Spawn."
Eat more rare whale meat.
Speed up for cats.
Dump my used car oil in storm drains.
Vote Republican. (...that one made my over processed breakfast come back up...)
Consume the mostest ever.
Invent words like "mostest"
Shake Gary Busey's hand.
Get Chlamydia. I love flowers!
Cut the sleeves off all of my shirts.
Talk less, scream more.
Filter what I scream about.

Seems about right. LET'S DO THIS. Come on, we only 355 more days till the end of the year, let's live like we're dying.

happy VIRUS to MEEEE.

2011-12-30T22:40:00.000-08:00

Two days ago, I turned 34. I would have written to you on that day, Internets, but alas, I was hugging the bowl (that my spawn refuses to hold his twig and aim his sap in) and throwing up so violently, I dislocated my entire spinal cord.

It appears that this holiday season wasn't sponsored by Discover Card...nope. Nor was is affiliated with Visa. It was brought to us by the Norovirus. Which could have the same tag line as Visa- it is every where you want to be. In case you aren't familiar with this awesome virus- I'll introduce you. No, really, shake my hand. Drink my drink. Lick this spoon of peanut butter after I did...get it allllllll off... This is the virus that shut down that cruise ship a few years back. People were shitting and harking all over the place. Can you imagine on a boat? With a goat? Put's new meaning on Green Eggs and Ham...hold my fucking hair back, Sam I AM!

The virus appears to be like food poisoning, because it moves through you so fast and so violently...but it isn't. The kicker is that you're contagious for three days after you first get sick (which you're only sick for about a day) so that's where the epidemic comes in, stage left. Nothing like the holidays to remind you how sick of your family you really are. ba dum bump.

The Baby Daddy had it Christmas morn. The spawn had it the day after. Mass credit to the spawn for making it to the toilet with his puke in a speedy fashion. I don't think I mastered that until I was 24. However, he did shit his pants thrice. Oh, yeah, I just said "thrice". Figure I would fancy up all this shit talk.

So, 33 was a good year! I made it past Jesus. Too soon? I did mark that my 33rd year had to be a big one because of Jesus...being that it was a huge one for him, and you. Sheesh, the guy died for your sins! What did I do? Bought my first pair of Toms. In retrospect, my year was great, but not epic. Which I guess is epic because I'm not so emotional about certain highlights that I'm disregarding how wonderful life is in general. wow. Thanks, Internets, for making me realize what an epic year I had!

I know that a lot of blogs do a year in review and post some of their most memorable highlights from the last year. I know that a lot of blogs offer ultimate lists on what happened in the world and such. And I know that a lot of blogs will feature the resolutions that are set to start in 24 hours...

You ain't getting that here, Internets. Rest assured.

Let's see, I did buy a pair of Toms. I did get rid of a dog. And I did get some help with that pesky monkey called "depression". And I rekindled with an old flame. Shit. Did I just make a fucking list? What the hell. I'm going to add this to my list of resolutions. Things will be different next year, Internets, I swear.

Fuck yeah, 2012!

fat bastard street cred

2011-12-25T09:59:00.000-08:00

Exactly ten minutes after I put out all the "Santa" gifts, stuffed the stockings, and crawled into bed...I rolled over and was staring right into the spawns excited eyes. "HE CAME! HE CAME! Santa's been here and he got me all that I wanted!! Let's open presents!"

It's 2 a.m.

Baby Daddy had to work today, so I decided that it would be in our best interest if I spent the night in Henry's room. I remember the Christmas Henry spent in my womb. That's a poem because it rhymes. Both nights were equally uncomfortable and not involving alcohol. Mistake numero uno... Since I was up for the majority of the night, sharing a twin bed with a spawn that forms to your body like Spanx, only more sweaty, I've had a lot of time to think about this post....

We got up at 6 a.m. to discover that B to the D has food poisoning. Turns out Aloha! Island Grill + Christmas Eve Lunch = pissing out of his ass. (*and puking, poor guy!) He can't call into work, so we'll see how his day plays out...Spawn immediately asked if he could open just one present. PLEASE. well, alright. JUST ONE. bwahahahaha.

So I made coffee, laid down in my own bed, cleaned the bathroom, watered the plants, fed the dog, and by 10a.m., I was ready to let him open his presents. "You have control issues."- my therapist. I did decide, during our drunk wrapping sesh, to wrap up an empty box. A Harry Potter Invisibility Cloak! The perfect gift for an imagination! Here's the footage he'll show his therapist:

I'm the worst mom ever. Although equally fat, and high on sugar, I can't compare to Santa for gift giving. In addition to the cloak, got him some Legos, books, a soccer ball, and a basketball hoop. That big fat bastard that broke in last night, reeking of nog and reindeer farts, got him left handed golf clubs, video games, an Angry Bird stuffed animal and sticker book, and the best stocking ever. When Henry woke us up at 2tothegodforsaken.a.m., the look on his face was priceless regarding the jolly intruder. He was shaking he was so excited...and that is where I'm conflicted. HIDE YOUR EYES, if you believe. I bought all those mother fucking items, I WANT THE CREDIT. seriously, Santa? How did he know your mom wants to steer your football obsession towards a more safe sport, like left handed golf? And those Silly Bands that seem to be all the rage in Kindergarten, yeah- THREE STORES. Toy workshop my ass.

I do realize that this is a big discussion that a lot of people are having. You know, being politically correct with your kids and being honest with them. Which is pretty ironic to call that politically correct, being the foundation of all politics is lies. Regardless, I don't like lying to my kid cause I really don't care about it. I don't remember believing in Santa or being told the devastating news that he was a fat smelly myth. But I know a many of friends that recall the vivid feeling of the world ending when they figured it out. However, I did fall hard for Jesus when I was a kid, and the spawn isn't on to that one yet...Santa vs Jesus...tomato, tomato. . .

I guess my point is, regardless of your age, a man will let you down. wait. How the hell did I get to that conclusion? Here is Henry testing out the Cloak, heh heh heh.

His joy is more over powering than my need for credit...and speaking of credit, THANKS, DISCOVER CARD! we couldn't have done it without your cash back rewards.

Ah, that's the tits.

2011-12-23T00:00:00.000-08:00

All I've been doing is holiday baking, so I decided to revisit a post from last March. I'll be back once I come down from this sugar high.

I've been sitting here, trying to think about what I want to blog about. Then I went and read other blogs, ate some almonds, voyeur-ed on facebook, ate some more almonds...then I decided that maybe I should just start typing. When I was writing a screenplay for a contest, I would get writers block and Barry Manilow would cure it. I am a FANilow. Nothing breaks you out of your shitwall-non-comedy-synapses like Weekend in New England. Now tell me, when will our eyes meet? When will this long yearning end? And when, will I hold you again? again? again? Oh, Barry, now I gotta get out the Swiffer. But not the Swiffer Wet Jet, believe me, we have enough fluids involved.

Okay...so...today was the day of champions. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and some strange young lady was quickly putting a fat shoe lace around my twin peaks. I only buy my bras from Victoria's Secret (and yes, that was a product placement, and yes, I will take payment in any form- form fitting, that is!) I have been the same size for about 4 years now, give or take. I know my size, and I told this young woman my size, she still shoelaced me. It was a "slight of hand trick", a quickness that made me wonder if this was part of the elusive "secret" they train to their employees. "No one knows their true size, engage them in conversation, then shoelace them without them even noticing." The other part of the secret is that their tit slings run on the smaller size scale. I fancy that women who are on the smaller side (like my right side. DAMNIT.) enjoy this. But today, I learned, that they have chosen to discontinue my size because it isn't selling. According to the 17 year old boobologist, she shoelaces girls all day that are the same size, but you know, "corporate" with a flip of her hair. She instructed me to order online, and quite frankly, I don't like to be told what to do, so I opted for the smaller size (by two inches- we're talking the circumference of the barrel, not the weight of the cups) **side note, my right side is a considerable amount smaller than thine left** ##Double side note, I entered a wet T shirt contest once and I came in first AND third## That's a crowd pleaser, please, feel free to use it. I'm a giver. So, she was super-fake-helpful in her tone of voice and told me if I needed a hand to just give her a "shout out". Just like Arsenio Hall. What would I need a "hand" with? I understand needing a different size or style, but a "hand"? Hmmm, Would it be because of my huge dinosaur body and my tiny little T-Rex arms that I can't buckle my bra?

Regardless, I was merely planning on her doing this to me.

"How's everything going?" "Oh, ummm, here- could you hold these for me? Just for a minute?"

Unfortunately for all of us, she never checked in on me. bummer. She knocked on all the other dressing room doors, to the point that I actually answered her twice, but it was a pounding meant for some other woman. (...if I had a dollar...) The good news is that I'm 2 inches smaller around than I thought, the bad news- my naysayer boobatrician didn't get to witness it first hand.

going postal

2011-12-22T02:04:00.000-08:00

Today I went to the Post Office to send off my cards and a package. I know, who doesn't like a nice package? And a clean box? hmmmm... Do you want to know how to beat the lines and the holiday crowds? Send things when it's too late to get there before Christmas! write that one down. You are very welcome, Internets, for the tip. I sent a box to Utah. I'm sure she'll find a nice family down there. ba dum bump. And the post officer (his weapon? Tape gun.) told me that it would be there before Christmas, for only $15! I said, "Hark the holy shit, Batman! No wonder you guys are going bankrupt! And you deliver stuff everywhere?" USPS- this is their website, in case you haven't heard of them...oh, yeah. I just plugged the Post Office. I plan on wearing stamps when I have to start stripping next year because I'm so broke. Those Liberty Bells will go nicely with my skin tone, if you know what I mean. *wink wink*

I sent out 40 cards, and now I'm running low. Dangerously low. So, sorry I couldn't get each and everyone a card, but here it is. Right now pretend that you're ripping open the envelope in Christmas excitement. Pretend to get a paper cut on that virtual envelope and then go stick your hand in a vat of virtual lemons. Do you think virtual lemons sting the same on a virtual paper cut as the do a real one? Please report back.

Card for you and yours. I'm so glad we're friends:

Every year I try to capture the spirit of children everywhere. Don't get me wrong, I love your pictures of your kids in Nordic sweaters, having a snowball fight, laughing uncontrollably. But let's be real here. Your husband is drunk, your kids are outside crying because they peed in their snowsuits, and you're in the bathroom smoking a joint. right? RIGHT?! Kids having tantrums are much funnier, so this is the basis of my cards, annually.

Another thing that I hate is the holiday letter. If it rhymes, my dog gets a swift kick to the throat. If I can't find my dog, I go outside and start kicking random dogs in the throats. true story. Please, people, don't do it...for the sake of the dogs and their throats. I'm sure you all get the same cards with the same bullshit letters year after year. "Our son is so busy with being above average with sports and Herpes free...Our daughter is prettier than Taylor Swift, and isn't into cutting herself..." blah blah blah. I usually don't put in a holiday message, but this year I thought that I should offer some sort of recap. Here is what was included with our Christmas miracle in an envelope:

I know how you all love holiday update letters, so I'll keep it short...

I'm still in school. Set to graduate in June of 2012. I've decided to further my education with one more year so I can kill cancer with physics. I'll be a Radiation Therapist, God willing.
Henry is in Kindergarten at a Catholic school. He's doing a great job asking all the confusing questions religion raises. He loves all things sports, knows how to read and write, and loves to be super sarcastic and unreasonable.
The dog is fatter and little bit smarter. The cat is way fatter and appears to be the smartest one in the house. With this equation, I'm pretty damn smart myself!
In July, Bob (Henry's father) and I decided to revisit our relationship after a two year hiatus. It's been fantastic and healthy. We're going to counseling once a week and just put an offer on a house. The house is a short sale, so we'll see how long that takes!
My blog is growing exponentially over the last year. You can stay up on my random musings and the happenings of the family at www.dailybalzy.blogspot.com I know that it's titled "Daily Balzy", and that is part of my resolution - to make it more daily. I promise.
Hope you and yours are having a great year and a healthy 2012!
I just wanted another bullet point.
Love Bob, Casey, Henry, Stella, and Leo

Who doesn't like bullets? No one in my neighborhood, that's who!

Merry Whatever the Fuck you Choose to Celebrate, Internets!