Ugh.

This really, really, REALLY bothers me.

My husband argues that it's the same as McDonald's being able to refuse to sell you a hamburger if you don't have your shoes on. I completely disagree- the ability to be a slob in public isn't necessarily considered a civil right, while the wherewithal to fill your prescriptions most definitely is.

Target pharmacist: "Oh- you were raped last night? And you had to go to the doctor and submit to the indignity of getting screened for chlamydia and all the other biggies- although you'll have to wait a few weeks for the AIDS test. You got this prescription for plan B? Well, that sucks. Are you sure you didn't deserve it? Because I am afraid that my special relationship with the Lord entitles me to decide whether or not you can take the pill which prevents you from ovulating and therefore potentially getting stuck with a child that you didn't want to have."

16 year old: "I can't have a kid. I was just excited that I went out with the captain of the football team. He seemed so nice, until he slipped a roofie in my drink. I can't even remember what happened! I was going to college! This isn't supposed to happen!"

Target pharmacist: "Did I mention that Jesus loves you? I hope that makes it better- remember that when the kid wakes you up at 2 in the morning when you are working double-shifts at McDonald's and have a final exam the next day."

This is standard practice now at Target, WalMart, Walgreens, and RiteAid. For something that is available OVER the COUNTER in Canada. I feel sick.

Dude. Seriously. No, DUDE! SERIOUSLY!!

OK. If you want good Italian food, go to Bella Pasta.

One of the waiters there is my new SBF (Secret Boyfriend) and if you go there, he will ensure that you eat the unhealthiest things on the menu.

Seriously.

I went there, and I was leaning towards the gnocchi with the marinara sauce, (I swear) he made me get the alfredo sauce instead. With CREAM, people. I only ate half, and sacked the rest up for later...and he came back and clucked at me disapprovingly.

And then hubby and I decided to split a piece of tiramisu, and he brought out two anyway, saying, "It's pretty light..." and only charged us for one.

Oh, and he's tall and darkhaired with big blue eyes.

/end of fairytale

(But amazingly, all true!)

Pain and suffering on the Amtrak

San Francisco was wonderful. The sis and I had fun, did much chatting and shopping and the drinking of the dirty martinis.

However, the train back to Fresno, full of the whiny little old ladies and drunken uncouth Raiders fans, is not something you should attempt with a hangover.

Suprisingly, (and thankfully) nobody was killed. Not the kid behind me who kept kicking my seat. Not the stringy little old ladies who were making rude comments about everyone else in their vicinity (except me, I have to admit. For some scary reason, I seemed to meet with their deranged approval.) Not even the 500 lb. guy in the Jerry Rice jersey with GO RAIDERS painted across his face, who kept asking me questions about the scarf I was painting and staring at me creepily in the reflection of the train window.

I think this reflects admirable restraint on my part.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

I really, really, really hate automated phone response systems.

I'm not sure which ones are the worst- the automated response ones, where they use voice recognition technology (which doesn't work) or the ones where you eventually get directed to actual people who still don't seem to comprehend what's going on.

Have you guys guessed yet that I am still not getting my oven?

I called for the bajillionth time yesterday, and they told me it was finally in, after we ordered it in September. I spent today emptying out the kitchen in the vicinity of the old stove, and planned my whole day around the delivery of this long-awaited appliance.

Then the delivery/installer guy calls me (around the time we were supposed to get the stove) and says, "Uh...it's not there. I went to pick it up, and they said your stove is on indefinite back-order."

I called Sears- the phone number that was listed on my receipt. The phone rang and rang and rang and RANG. I was beginning to suspect that my phone call was also on indefinite backorder. Finally-

"Sears, Televisions."
"Hi, I need to speak with somebody in your Oven/Range Department."
"Ok, Hold on."
Ring...ring ring ring ring......
"Sears, Televisions."
"I just talked to you- I need to speak with someone about my oven."
"Oh- they must be backed up. Let me get someone."

"Chains of Love" comes on. I hear that song in its entirety, and then most of "ManEater."
Then...Ring ring ring...
"Sears, Major appliances."
"Hi I'm-"
"I'm sorry, can you hold?" Click. Then "Maniac" came on, which seemed vaguely appropriate. I listened to most of this before I was mysteriously cut off.

I called back, and savagely jabbed the "0" until I got the (poor, unfortunate, INNOCENT) operator.

"Sears, this is Jason. How may I direct your call?"

"I don't know. I've been transferred all over the place, put on infinite hold, and hung up on. I am just trying to figure out WHEN they are going to deliver my oven. You tell me."

"I'm getting you a manager. I'll stay with you 'tel I get someone- Just a moment, please."

God bless you, Jason! Ring ring ring ring....

"Hi, this is Chris."

"Hi Chris. I'm having some issues with a backordered oven."

"Ok. I need your name and salescheck number."

"My name is Jenna, J-E-N-

CLICK. Ring ring ring....

"Thanks for holding. We are now transferring you to the Sears Home office. Please be patient."

"Home office, this is-"

In case you were wondering, this is where I lost it.

"I was JUST talking to someone about my OVEN and I got randomly transferred in mid sentence- no offense but I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!!!!!"

"Ah- OK- this must be him right here." Click.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Chris. I'm sorry, the line just went dead."

"You transferred me to the Home Office!" (I know you pressed the button, fucker!)

"I'm sorry. How can I help you?"

"Ok. Chris. What department do you work in?"

We established that Chris is in fact a manager. I shared with him the saga of my oven. I gave him the info on my receipt. He said he'd call me right back.

"Ok- and your name is Chris, right?" (HA! So you know I'm writing it down!)

Chris did call back. Chris did not have good news. The parts to make the stove we need are backordered from an overseas source. They can't make the stove if they don't have the parts. Even I have to admit this.

I can get another (more expensive, he emphasized) stove for the same price. Sounds good, but the problem here is that the stove will not fit into our counter. Instead of the standard 30" stove, ours is 28 1/2. Goddamn those scam artists at Whirlpool. So we'd have to cut the counter and do some excavating. (And in the interim. I have measured, and we don't even have the room to do that. The INCH AND A HALF just ain't there. *&%$!!!!!!!!)

Or, we can wait another month. December 3rd. So I am effectively totally screwed for Thanksgiving, and of course, that date is during my trip to France. Maybe that's actually a good thing. I don't know if I want to be there when this is going down. I asked Chris if he was SURE and he said, vaguely- "The manufacturer feels really good about December 3rd."

Somehow, I am totally not convinced, but I really don't have much choice in the matter. I made Chris promise me that he would call them, and that I would get updates. I'm not holding my breath.

GrrrrrRRRRrrRRRRrRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I am so damn frustrated. Screw this, I am going shopping.

Squeeee!

20 days until Paris...

A week until the new Harry Potter movie opens in theatres....

Two days 'til I leave for San Francisco...

And tomorrow, I get my new oven.


Woo! My cup runneth ovah!

There can be only one....but we have two.

Help us decide!

We're having a Christmas Card Photo Dilemma. (Come on- it's almost like those "Choose your Own Adventure books!)

Do you like Picture #1:


Or Picture #2: (Now with extra CHEESE! Who knew The Man actually had teeth?)


Of course, you know that this is just my sneaky way of getting you all to leave comments...Muuahahahaaaaaa!

Photo Phobia

couple 006
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

So, umm...I hate having my picture taken. Hate it. Haaaaaate it. I usually only photograph allright when I am somewhat intoxicated. Evidently "Drunk-Ass Bimbo" is a good look for me.

But The Man and I went in and got haircuts today, and he must have slipped the stylist a fifty or something, because all of a sudden, instead of the pretty, sleek blowout I usually get, my stylist whipped out the diffuser and just went to town.

A DIFFUSER, people. Like Alyssa Milano used circa "Who's The Boss."

Anyway, if you've never seen one, it looks kinda like you're blow-drying your hair with a megaphone.

While it did take some self-styling afterwards, the guy somehow re-created my high school hairstyle, and at least I don't look too much like a poodle. Woo!

So it's a few hours later. We came back from a yummy dinner at Claim Jumpers, and I am just sitting there on the couch, in my lounging sweatshirt thingie, and we've just finished watching "Girl With a Pearl Earring" (which we really enjoyed, by the way.)

Evidently, the curly hair has made The Man insane, because he started gazing at me and saying things about my "mischevious little nose" and then busted out the digital camera.

AAAAaAAAaaAaaaaaaa!

I froze. I sulked. I made faces. I threw pillows at him. I finally begged him to PLEASE allow me to cover up the chin zits, at least.

Anyway, I finally relaxed enough to take pictures where I don't look stunned, pissed off, or laminated.

Wish me luck- I have a sneaking suspicion that the Christmas photos are happening tomorrow.

If you want to see the rest of the photo session, they are HERE. You can tell that I finally loosened up and started to have fun. Yeeeehaw!

Cruelty to animals

couple 010
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Yes, we got a little crazy with the digital camera. I am NOT strangling him, I swear- please don't report us to PETA.

The photo of him not standing still is HERE.

Grrrrr

Dear Netflix,

You suck. You triple dog suck.

I feel that we are nearing the end of our relationship. Let's face it, it was a marriage of convenience, and it's just not convenient anymore.

At first, I was enamored with you. I got overnight service, dammit. I told everyone how happy I was with you. However, lately, you've become more and more distant. You're beginning to ignore me, and the longer I stay with you, the more blatant it becomes. Is this some passive-aggressive way of getting me to break up with you?

I sent back three movies last Wednesday, you didn't even notify that they are rec'd until first thing this morning... that's FIVE days. Do you think I'm stupid? You could have called, at least. I dislike having my emotions toyed with in this cavalier manner.

Then, you notify me (at the last possible second, in the late late afternoon) that you have sent out two DVD's for delivery tomorrow.

WTF, people?! Where the hell is the third one?! What kind of voodoo dolls do I have to buy??!!

OK, most women would probably be happy with two. However, I am definitely not most women, and I cannot believe that it is this hard to uh, mail something. Hello?!!!!

Fuckers. Did I mention that you suck?

Sincerely,

Jenna

Overheard chez moi/ Mood swings

Cat: Meow...meeeeoooooowwwwww, meeeooooowwwww
Bird: Meow. Meoweoweoweoweow...MEOW!
Me: Do you hear that cat? He's mocking you for being a whiny bitch.
Me: hehehehe
Bird: Hehehehehe...whee!
Me: Dammit, I will not be mocked by poultry.
Bird: Silly Silly bird! La la la la laaaaaaaaaa la...Goodbye!

This weekend: I was pleasantly surprised by Neighbor and Ferret, who came on ovah to take me out on a whirlwind Red Robin/Wheatgrass juice adventure. We also had drinkies of the alcoholic variety, and much fun was had by all.

Yesterday, went to see the parents, and my sister, who was here for a spur-of-the-moment visit. Considering that I am going to go visit her this Friday (San Francisco! Yeah!) , and then we're going to see each other for Thanksgiving...
We always have a good time together, though- I am glad I get to see her a lot.

I have a ton of errarnds to run today- one of which makes me want to rip out all my hair, because of course, the first Christmas presents (mentioned a few days ago) contains shirts that are ALL too short in the SLEEVES. 36"-37" sleeves, people. I suppose that's what I get for marrying a mutant.

Oh, and we're almost out of toilet paper. And Tofutti Cuties. Seriously, that's like a national emergency.

My stove comes tomorrow! Woohooo!

I also have a dentist appointment, but I am trying not to think about that right now.

Buddy wants me to go with her to yoga tonight. I have never taken a yoga class. Somehow, I think that yoga and wheatgrass all in the same week might be overdoing it. Plus, I don't know if I can get behind an activity that doesn't require shoes.

My eyeballs hurt.

So yeah, the guy is guilty. I think we deliberated for less than 12 minutes, voted unanimously, and spent the rest of the time discussing how one of the attorneys looked sort of like like a younger, much taller, Randy Travis.

Another random observation- I am breaking out like crazy. I turn THIRTY ONE in a few weeks, people. WTF?! Stop the insanity!! (Zit fairy, please chill out.)

Speaking of squirrel fornication...

Anyone been to Courthouse Park lately? (How's that for a segueway?)

Watch those squirrels. Seriously, those bitches are fearless. They will carjack you and remove your kidneys and sell them on the black market for hickory smoked almonds and crack cocaine. While humping your leg. Hey, I'm just sayin'.

I had jury duty today. My first ever summons. BOOOOOO!

Evidently, I appear to be a. easily influenced, b. a productive member of society, and c. a sentient being (well, sort of). Because you're looking at the immortal words of she who is now known as "Juror Number One."

Say it with me now: "CRAP!" I KNEW I should have worn the bone in my nose and the "I Heart Satan" T-shirt!

I can't talk about the case, (which is just as well, because I know you're all reading this at work and you'd be snoring within mere seconds and wake up drooling with the Q from your keyboard implanted in your forehead). The saving grace is that it's only a two day trial. I am the youngest person on the jury by at least a decade or so, and it's definitely some serious culture shock.

A few notable moments: I almost fell asleep during the closing arguements today. Oh and then I started watching the judge and inwardly amusing myself with his facial expressions. They are indescribable. No I mean it, but I may try to detail them tomorrow just for the hell of it.

Eh- I also went and blew some $$$ on my first Christmas gift of the season. I actually better wrap and hide before the man comes home, since it's for him.

Oh, and the guy I asked for his male input in the store said to tell Alan that his Christmas gift is "approved by a Marine Drill Instructor." That's right- it don't get much more butch than that, kids. Unless he was like, a green beret/mule skinner or something. Do they still make those? (Uh- did they ever make those?)

In the interest of shameless self-flattery, he also complimented me on my great taste in gifts and my fashionable shoes (Knee-high square toed black leather boots with three inch heels, baby! I mean, who wouldn't love those?)

Ok. Well, Angela calls them my "drag queen boots." But I think that the drag queen factor just magnifies their infinite fabulosity. Besides, they are not platform (well not much), and they totally lack sequins. So there. You're just jealous, ho!

Welcome to the suck.

So, I am upset- mostly about stuff that I have no control over. But anyway...allow me to share some of this crap with you.

My husband informs me that we are uninvited to his family holidays, because his mother feels that I slighted her in some imaginary way three years ago. Evidently we had just been assuming that we were invited to family functions for the last couple of years, since every one else in the family would just let us know.

They had this conversation when I was in Disneyland, and she apparently stated that while she agreed both of us were at fault, she wanted an apology from me, and since that was unlikely to happen, we were cordially dis-invited from all holidays from now until the end of time.

The bone of contention? When Alan was leaving to go overseas three days after Thanksgiving, three years ago, I had a chat with her about the upcoming holiday.

Jenna: "I'd like to spend time with both families- we traditionally celebrate my birthday on Thanksgiving, and everyone wants to see Alan before he goes."

MIL: "Well, if that's the case, why don't you just spend the whole day there, and we just won't see him!"

Jenna: "Uh- well, I was thinking, Alan said you'd be having a dinner for Thanksgiving, and my family usually has a lunch. You guys only live 10 minutes away from each other. We thought we'd go to my family's until the early afternoon, and then spend the rest of the day with you."

In my memory, she agreed to this readily. I asked Alan if he remembers it this way, and yes, he agrees that my version is what he heard at the time, and that I am not going crazy.

Her version? That I lied to her. Somehow she latched onto "spend the rest of the day with you" and turned that into, "Oh yes, well then, we will spend the entire day with your family, and not see Jenna's family at all, because we agree with your asessment that they are baby-eating Satanists who fornicate with squirrels."

OK, so I would apologize just to shut her up. The problem? I am not making up anything to apologize for. I am not going to tell a lie to sanctify her insane notion of the truth. There is just a limit to the craziness, y'all. I have tried repeatedly to make this woman happy, and have been rebuffed and insulted at every turn.

I even invited my father in law to a clandestine lunch when my husband was overseas to discuss "The Thanksgiving Incident" and any means I might take to reduce the fallout. He admitted that it had been totally blown out of proportion, and then added sheepishly that he likes me and was glad I was part of the family, and then swore me to secrecy that the meeting had ever taken place.

I have just come to the conclusion (after much angst and upset howling of "what the hell am I supposed to do?!" to my husband, who just shrugs helplessly) that I intimidate her, and she doesn't want me around, because my presence reminds her of things that happened before I was born or thought of.

The gist of that sordid story is that evidently her in-laws (who were, by all accounts, a lot like my parents) didn't want her as a part of the family and treated her like crap.

She talks about how horrible they were to her all the time. The fact that she's treating me just as badly had evidently escaped her notice completely. And may also be the reason that when she met my parents, she was so defensive that she immediately verbally attacked my father.

Yet, I still feel bad that we don't get along. I love my husband, his family is important to him, and hell, I love them too. I don't know- should I just lie, and make her happy?

The worst part? Alan says that one of her techniques is to come up to you, magnanimously and out of the blue, and say, "I forgive you". For something that she has imagined in her CRAZY BRAIN.

I swear to god, that better not happen to me. I just might lose all control and punch her in the face. That'd be a Christmas to remember!

In other news- I went on the treadmill today and yesterday, and aside from a minor skirmish with some renegade potato chips, I am doing well. AND...I am working on the book. Seriously.

AND- I have decided how we are going to finish our courtyard, AND what colors we are painting the rooms in our house.

And...there's a hideous chance that I am going to be a bridesmaid in September. Or would I be a bridesmatron? (ICK.)In any case, I would probably be in a line-up with a bunch of 23 year-old physically perfect sorority girls AND my darling little sister. In strapless dresses. Oh, and be obliged to walk down the aisle with a frat boy who just might be half my age and have hair like an electrocuted hedgehog. So, on one level I am flattered and thrilled, and on another, deeper darker more nefarious level, I fear that the sheer terror of this nightmarish juxtaposition may cause me to vomit uncontrollably at intervals until then. (The horrible thought I just had? Involuntary bulemia might actually be a plus.)True, I could say no- but that's just dumb and selfish, not to mention chicken.

Oh, AND?! (This is the best part, although if you've read this far, I feel for you) When she (my brother's sweet fiancee) asked my mom if she thought my sister and I would like to be bridesmaids, Mom thoughtfully gave me an out. What out did she give me, ladies and gentlemen? "Well, Jen's thinking about starting a family....so that might be a complication."

Do I need to say that the pressure is officially ON?! Oh god, I am going to be a humongous, knocked up, frat-boy fraternizing, satin-clad beachball. In elbow length gloves and matching Dyeables. Eat your heart out, John Waters. (And no, I'm not pregnant, I just have an evil imagination- in case you haven't figured that out by now.)

I'm sorry. I may need to find a deserted closet and have a good cry.

It's all about the 'ween...

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Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Last night was most definitely fun- Cinderella and Batman were definitely the most popular costumes of the night, although my favorites were the pint-size Dracula and the incredibly shy little girl who was dressed in a leopard outfit.

We ran out of candy at 8:30 PM. Much fun was had by all.

In other news, spent the last weekend in Disneyland- which was, well, still Disneyland. On Saturday night, we went to go see Bauhaus, which was AMAZING.

I saw Peter Murphy more than 10 years ago when he came to Fresno, and it was good, but this was wonderful. I am glad we went to see them live. For a bunch of old guys, they kept it together and rocked pretty damn hard.

OK, I am being paged- more later.

Who knew it was raspberry jam?

Movie theatre conversation #1:

Outside the theatre- watching zillions of pasty-faced guys roaming unchecked through the parking lot. Mr. Phancy approaches.

Me: Thank god you're here. It's feepin' freezing, and I am one of approximately three women here.

Mr. Phancy: I don't think any of these guys have seen an actual woman in awhile.

Me: I don't think they think of me as a woman- I think I would be designated as a "female entity."

Movie Theatre Conversation #2

The part where they are hauling Princess Vespa's 8 piece luggage set, complete with matching steamer trunk, through the desert.

Bill Pullman: (OK, I'm paraphrasing) "What on earth is in this trunk?!" *Pulls out enormous hairdryer* "GAH!!"

Mr. Phancy: This so reminds me of you. I can totally see you insisting on hauling matched luggage through the desert.

Me: Thanks a lot!

Mr. Phancy: ...except your trunk would contain several hundred pairs of sparkly platform shoes.

What can I say- the man has known me since we were fourteen years old.

Funny, you don't look Druish.

Yes, my few and loyal readers, it is almost 7PM, and I am getting ready to go to Clovis (Clovis! Clovis! Land where the rednecks roam free and drive their Chevy pickup trucks and drink Budweiser with much enthusiasm!) to go see Spaceballs on the big screen.

Feel free to envy me.

I am considering wearing Wranglers. Not only would this be an ironic gesture, it may also reduce the likelihood that the good people of Clovis will try to burn me as a witch.

Now, where did I put that NRA bumper sticker?

Overheard, Chez Moi

"Pretty Biiiiird....Good Boy Good BOY! HellooooooOOoOooooo! What? Huh? Oh. Wheeeee! Wheeeee! Peep peep peep. Kitty kittykitty...C'mere! Woooo! Wahoooooo! *SCREECH* Oh NO!Hahahahahaaaaaa...cluck cluck cluck...*kissy noises*Meeeeow, mew mew, gooooood Boooooooooy....."

Repeat, ad infinitum, until I LOSE MY MIND.

24 hours until Disneyland. Then I have jury duty on Monday. Hopefully, they'll balance each other out.

Chair Dancing Unlimited...

So, today I found 005:Out of 5- Themed Mixes. 10 different people take a theme= this week's is dance music- and they pick their fave song in that category, and thus a mix is born.

The best part? You can download it, although I am actually streaming as I type. Fun stuff!

Tonight is Stitch N' Bitch, and so I am gearing up. I've taken a few days off from knitting,and I am currently an active sufferer of SSS, which is "Second Sock Syundrome" for those of you out there who are "Knuggles" (That's a non-knitter). I knit the first sock- however, finishing its twin is an insurmountable task that just might cause me to go blind with irritation.

I actually got lunch at Mimi's with hubby and a friend today, and I think I am officially sick of the place. Let's face it, I probably go there at least once a week- it's nearby, and whatever mood I am in, they have something. Although- WTF is up with them putting Craisins and those yucky pink tomatoes on everything?

Craisins are the frooo-it of the de-ville. Seriously. I have proof. I admit it- am not a dried fruit aficianado. I do occasionally use dried apricots in my lentil soup recipe, but they re-hydrate duting the cooking process, and then basically dissolve, so I feel that they don't count. At this point, importation and refrigeration techniques having advanced as they have, dried fruit is now an unnecessary abomination, and should be done away with. Come on people- Prunes. Why is this necessary?!

I also got a good dose of common sense about the joys and sorrows of being fat. Which is something I really needed to hear, especially after the infamous Baskin Robbins incident.

I could add a couple positives: I've had people tell me (more than once) that I was wonderful to hug. Of course, that could be because of the boobs, but hey, they're part of the deal. Then of course there was the whole "Goddess" episode (see Fat Flashback #2 in here somewhere).

The negatives- The link mentions people assuming that you're pregnant- I have never gotten that one (luckily). The one that I have gotten that wasn't mentioned- Men approaching me at clubs/the gym/grocery shopping, and when I turned them down for one reason or another-(Usually sheer aggressiveness or unbridled obnoxiousness) calling me a "fat bitch". Like that's the worst thing they can possibly say. My general response was usually, "That's right- Fat bitch who TURNED YOU DOWN." Then they would slink off into the underbrush like a wounded hyena.

So- I feel that I should clarify. While the weight battle goes on, I am going to continue being healthy about it, and "getting skinny" isn't really part of the equation. Thank God.

It's tracksuit time!

Officially. Those of you who know me, this is your warning. Anyone who makes a reference to J-Lo will be shot without mercy. I will be wearing the green one, the turquoise one, the red one, the black one, the navy one, and yes, the orchid-colored one. Possibly even the magenta one. Fortunately, not all at the same time.

And yes, Dave, I will wear them with heels.

And no, none of them say "Juicy" across the ass. I feel a. My ass needs to ornamentation- it can stand on its own, and b. If you're going to stitch "Juicy" on your ass, you may as well tattoo "Hooker" or "Desperate for Attention from Random Lech- Really, I'm not Kidding- no seriously, Try me, I'm FREE" on your forehead.

There is a very cranky green bird on my shoulder, who is trying to test my pain and annoyance levels by alternately biting me on the ear, and then retreating either to that spot on my back that I can't reach, or the top of my head, where he gets tangled in my hair. When I finally grab him, he takes off flapping onto the floor, which luckily scares the bejeezus out of the cat. (Who is either a pacifist, a wuss, or just really, really lazy). Then I try putting the bird back in his cage and he screams and screams and screams.

I keep thinking,"This is what motherhood must be like..." However. I didn't have to incubate him for 9 months, and he's probably never going to wreck my car or bring home trampy obnoxious girlfriends wearing plasic miniskirts. Hm. On the other hand, while he will probably outlive me, he's certainly not going to be able to support me and stick me in a nursing home in my declining years.

Actually, I'm not sure if that's a negative, either.

Yawn...

It's been a lazy Friday- mostly cleaning. I am excited that I got some new movies today from Netflix- and also bummed, because they haven't posted the movie that I returned yesterday. They are slacking. Bastards.

In other news, I am still putting together the new entertainment center, and cataloguing all the nicks and scratches that I am going to need to touch up on that sucker. Bah!

It's a busy couple of weeks coming up- I think I mentioned that I finally did submit my passport paperwork, ironically on the last possible day before I would have to pay the extra 60 bucks or so to get it expedited.

In this picture, I don't look laminated- I look puffy, royally pissed off, and possibly drunk. The puffy was because I hadn't slept the night before. The pissed is due to my erstwhile Postal Employee Photographer's insistence that I pull my hair back to expose my ears.

My naturally poofy hair doesn't do that without being restrained in a ponytail- seriously. I tried tucking it behind my ears twice, and then beeyotch snapped the photo- like, 1/4 of one ear is showing, and just to be truly evil, she lowered the camera below my chin level, because my face is not round enough already. God, I hate the post office. ROWR!

Anyway, I am just relieved that's off my plate.

I am going to a Halloween party tomorrow night, Disneyland an a Bauhaus concert next weekend, and then I have a couple weeks to hang before the visit to my sister in S.F. And then my birthday, Thanksgiving, and PARIS- I leave eeeeeeeeeearly on Dec. 2nd.

I have been knitting a ton, lately, and I am wanting to cook and bake almost constantly. I want my new oven! It should be here in another week or so. Hopefully. Oh lordie, looking at the paragraph above- I am going to need to start shopping for the holidays ASAP.

File under WTF?

Upon reviewing the hits I got in the last week or so-

Evidently, my blog is the second thing that comes up on MSN if you search for "doing housework nude".

Hey, I think that's hilarious. Talk amongst yourselves!

Compliments and other random happenings

It was a good day today. Or yesterday as it happens...it's around 3AM right now, and I think it's safe to say that my sleep schedule is officially messed up.

I spent last night rearranging our copious collection of DVD's and VHS tapes (yup, still got those) into our newly acquired entertainment center. They are alphabetized and everything- we'll see how long it lasts. Yes, I am amazed that we had room for all of them! There are 263 DVD's at last count, and I haven't tallied the VHS tapes yet- an educated guess would be close to 500 movies.

Can you tell both Alan and I are media-philes? This goes without mentioning the obscene amount of books and music we also have. However- surprisingly little overlap when we got married and merged our lives and our collections.

The movies- I have a ton of 80's john-hughes kinda stuff, classics (Gone With The Wind et al), comedies (romantic and otherwise) musicals, some chick flicks, and a bunch of foreign films. He has anything to do with action/adventure, sci-fi, war, or the mafia. Plus My Best Friend's Wedding. ( I was stunned when I saw that one, I can tell you- sandwiched right between Men In Black and Platoon.)

Music- I like rock from the fifties, swing from the forties to present, Industrial, Dance/Techno, Alt-rock, and New Wave. He likes pop, country, and classical. We're both into soundtracks and compilations, for reasons that should be obvious by now.

Although, I am noticing that some of my edgier CD's have been mysteriously making their way into his truck, and that the Mariah Carey CD's have mysteriously disappeared, so I suspect that I am a good influence.

Like I mentioned, tonight was good. Met up with my buddy, discussed the inexplicable fact that we've known one another half our lives and that it was my good fortune to be one of the first people he met when he'd just arrived with his family from Canada. By some miracle, he ended up sitting in front of me in freshman English.

I just remember my 14-year-old incredulity when he told me that his family didn't have a television- they'd made a deal where they went out to the movies as a family once a week instead.

So- that was nice. And I wore my new coat/jacket/sweater for the first time, and got complimented by the waitress and by my buddy- so I got to say "Thanks...I made it myself!!"

He also had work-related tale of woe that was similar to mine- and is now lucky enough to be happily working in the family business.

The longer I am around, the more I realize that the more competent you are, the more you get dumped on- and the more likely it is that the slackers and brownnosers get promoted above you, so they can recline on their bed of slack and delegate even more crap down to you until you eventually have to quit or eat your own head to keep from exploding in a cloud of wrath. It's kinda sad, really.

So! We had salads, then went to Bev-mo and checked out the wide variety of exotic sodas and British candy selection. Does it get anymore freaking wholesome than that?

We make great pets...

Testing, 1,2,3.....

Since I already have a parrot, two dogs, and an enormously fat feline....

I obviously needed a purple hedgehog. Voila- Hermione! (What a perfect little hedgie name...) If you click on her, she will jump and do tricks (also, she is mercifully silent!)

adopt your own virtual pet!

Here's some pictures of the real-life aminals that share our household:

Vegas,
Tiramisu,
Bear & Bosco

Oh- and did I mention? We bought our midnight showing Harry Potter tickets, people!

Yes, I am a dork. But surrounded by other dorks, it's not as noticeable.

Ohmigod ohmigod...

S'been a week. What can I say?

I got in touch with an old friend a few days ago, so I am currently in negotiations as to when we get to have dinner and catch up. It's been a year or so, which is entirely my fault, and I have been missing him a great deal.

Besides, it'll be great to give the waitress at Masala, my fave Indian restaurant, something to talk about. So far I've gone there with at least three guy friends, not to mention my usual female partner in crime. Alan, the hubby, has yet to make an appearance. Since he works swings, and I only eat dinner there- well. Do the math.

My insane green parrot and I are currently listening to a "new" radio station for the Fresno area- Jack, 105.9. While it's nothing like the old station that was there when I was in high school (The EDGE! FOREVER!) it's on heavy rotation chez moi. Nice blend of rock, with some pop and an occasional disco song. They've played Billy Idol, the Divinyls, Rod Stewart, and a bunch of newer stuff in the last hour.

Anyway, Vegas (the parrot) definitely likes it- he's going "Wooooo! WoOOOOOOOOoooOooooOOoo!" and swinging on his favorite toy with the bell on the end. Yes, it's hilarious.

I spent tonight with my family. My sister was in town for her high school reunion, and we dragged out her old yearbooks and looked at all the insane stuff that was written in there. Dad made spaghetti, and we just hung out.

It was great. They were all determined to go to Baskin Robbins, so my mom, sister and I ended up going. They all got sundaes, and I was fairly good, and got a one scoop Daiquiri Ice.

Here's where I need to say, I hate buying and eating ice cream in a public place. Something wretched always seems to happen to me. I can get a junior scoop of sugar-free vanilla, and seriously, some moron will emerge from the woodwork and make some comment about my weight, I swear to god.

Anyway, we're standing there waiting to pay, and what I am assuming is a family walks in. A dad, his teenage daughter, and two boys who looked to be about 15- prime idiot age. I am guessing they're his son and a friend. One (the son)has his arm in a sling.

So they're crowding in behind me. I am literally squeezed up against the ice cream counter, trying to give them more room, but they keep pushing. The dad asks his kid, one of the boys, "What are you getting?" And then heads to the other side of the counter to check out the other flavors.

The kid is standing right up near me, and says, "I don't know yet" in a loud voice, and then mutters to his buddy, "Because this b*tch's fat ass is blocking my view." They dissolve into giggles.

OK, so I am there with my family. They haven't heard it. I don't think I was meant to hear it either. I can tell their older sister has though, and to give her credit, she looks ashamed, and goes off to stand with her dad, who isn't exactly svelte either, by the way.

There have been a lot of times when I just wouldn't say anything. I know the little idiot was just showing off for his friend, but I just saw red, and I snapped.

I deliberately turned around and gave them the hairy eyeball until they stopped laughing, then hissed, "Fuck off, or me and my fat ass will break your other arm for you."

Hostile and wrong? Yes. I sort of feel guilty about it. But! They immediately shut up and went over to the other side of the ice cream store. So maybe it was worth it. The punchline is that my mom and sister didn't know what was going on until we got back into the car.

Don't even think about it....

spraycan2
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

*SNAP* Too late! Thanks, Dave. The moment is now captured on film. No make up, irritated expression, threatening posture. (Still, it's kinda funny.)

Actually, it's pretty cool, because I basically painted 90 percent of a humongoid entertainment center alll by myself today. Hubby did the heavy lifting, and tried to keep me from freaking out when the wind blew dust or the tarp right into my wet paint.

The project took allllll daaaaay. I still have dark brown paint on my arms, which doesn't appear to be coming off anytime soon. But, the living room now looks fabbity fab (pictures forthcoming- I say that a lot, don't I?) And the biggie- there will soon be enough room in the garage so I can park my car insuide, and it won't be sitting outdoors getting filthy all the damn time.

Other than that- just hung out this evening, and relaxed. It's been a productive couple of days- I also fuinished re-plastering the long wall in our living room, so we'll be getting color on the walls soon- I can't wait!

Ahem. Bitterness.

So....

There's not a lot I can say here. Suffice it to say that we ended up going out to Logan's with my brother and sister-in-law. We had a great time, (I love them!) But...Yeah. I will NEVER COMPLAIN ABOUT GETTING CARDED AGAIN. Because my husband (who has gray hair, people! Gray HAIR!) and my S.I.L. got carded. I didn't.

OK, they are both younger than me. But still.

That was minor though, compared to the comment that made me realize that my in-laws have been conveniently forgetting my birthday for the last two years, but seem to remember hubby's brother's wife's birthday just fine- she mentioned that they were going over to the house to pick up her "birthday check". I haven't gotten a card from these people- for my birthday, or for that matter, for our last two anniversaries.

I didn't say anything about it, much like I didn't mention it when my S.I.L unconsciously repeated an insult re: my wedding pictures- made by my mother-in-law. Because I didn't want to make my brother and sister-in-law or my husband feel uncomfortable.

I feel selfish for letting it bother me, but...well, it's kind of upsetting.

Sleep is for the weak.

Once again, I am up at an asinine hour, playing on my computer for no good reason. The man is snoring away, and I should be cleaning in anticipation of my erstwhile Father-In-Law, who is coming to check out the new/old car tomorrow.

Instead, I am, as previously mentioned, playing. Muuahahahhaaaaaaa!

I still haven't taken Halloween pics. I still hnaven't taken knitting pics. But I did....are you ready? get my BIRTH CERTIFICATE today. So I can go get the stuff for the passport tomorrow.

I am seriously excited beyond all belief.

I also managed to get some Indian Food today. Oh, and I watched Highlander.

Is it peculiar that the waitress at the Indian restaurant freaks out when I come in with someone new? She asked about my usual Partner in Indian Food- I think she was afraid that she was eaten by wild boars or something. She actually said, "What happened to your friend?!" I indicated my new dining partner and said, "Well...um, I have more than ONE friend, you know." *cough*cough*

If I ever actually bring the hubby in there, she'll probably die of shock. In the meantime, she'll have to think that I'm having a thing with my neighbor Dave.

As for Highlander- OK, I had to see it...because of THIS. There can be Only One! (Unfortunately, I think there were two sequels..."There can be Only Three?")

So, I was under the impression that I had seen Highlander at a high-school era slumber party, but after seeing it again, I realized that I had fallen asleep from psychotic boredom 20 minutes in, and when I woke up, I probably actually caught the last half of "A Room With a View." Nude male full-frontal frolicking in the woods! Merchant & Ivory! I seem to recall a lot of giggling. And rewinding. And more giggling. Then I probably fell asleep again.

Um- anyway, Highlander is still boring. Although the fact that a French guy plays the Scottish guy, and Sean Connery plays- a Spanish Egyptian (with a Scottish accent)and that evidently the whole soundtrack was by Queen....Ah, the 80's! At one time, some producer somewhere thought the casting was a stroke of genius.

My buddy and I actually kept awake by making fun of it. (Mature commentary, like: "There can be only one!" and "I can crush a walnut with my butt!") The possibility of all of them just having a "walk-off" came up more than once. Let us not go into the whole multiple disposable blonde frizzy-haired female screamers thing. Feh.

I like the 30 second movie better. Although, my buddy assures me that the TV series was a different story and had a highly attractive (possibly less Cro-Magnon) male lead to boot who had a believable Scottish accent.Humph. How did I miss that?

Is it wrong that I want to set fire to the 8 million pounds of laundry that seems to have heaved itself up onto my living room couch?

Yes, I have finally gone crazy....

Murray 2
Originally uploaded by jenna_sais_quoi.

Guess what I did today?

I was supposed to clean, but uh....instead, I decorated for Halloween.

If you don't know that Halloween is my favorite holiday, consider yourself warned- I don't just put one of those "crashing witch" things on my front door and call it a day.

I actually have three boxes and several more bags, of Halloween decorations.

Anyway, I put a bunch of stuff outside- I am not going to have a party this year, so I am not going to really decorate the inside of the house- and it took me the better part of the morning and afternoon.

Then I surveyed the huge empty patch of dirt that will one day be a patio, right off to the side of the front door. I think I am going to bit the bullet and turn that into a "graveyard"- I'll have Alan cut out gravestones with his reciprocating saw, and then I'll paint them.

Then for some reason, I was going through my Halloween boxes, and found a huge wad of really ugly gauze fabric. I am not sure where it came from, or why on earth I had it, but I guess something clicked- and thus Murray came into being. I think we'll showcase him partying in the "graveyard" on Halloween night.

As an aside, I forgot that I left him sitting in the entryway about an hour ago, and I just glimpsed him out of the corner of my eye- and he scared the bejeezus outta me! Whoops.

Downtime

No more cooking- No MORE!

I did it, though. I will have to take a picture of the inside of my freezer, so you can see what my version of obsessive-compulsive disorder looks like. Seriously, I cooked for two days, and now I know why anorexics cook all the time- it KILLS your appetite. Hopefully I will eventually want to eat the 8 tons of stuff I cooked-

Anyway. Finally got up the guts to get back on the scale this morning, and I'm at 240.6. Which really isn't bad- I haven't been working out or watching myself much for the last two weeks. I need to weigh myself on a regular basis, so I am inspired and don't lose touch with reality.

I did get a workout (in a sense) today- I went outside to sweep down the spiderwebs, and all of a sudden, it was Domestic Goddess part two- I grabbed the garden shears and the loppers and started pruning everything back, I weeded, I poured some decorative bark into my flowerbeds, I swept down the old bird's nests from the top of our entryway, I swept the front walk, I re-twined the vines on y front porch around their trellis, hosed off the doormat, and made a futile attempt to kill the asparagus ferns that are entrenched in our landsaping. Whew!

My across-the-street-neighbor came out towards the end of this and basically laughed at me because I was doing all of this wearing a cute little red Old Navy t-shirt and a black peasant skirt, with black wedge heeled sandals. Whoops- I got carried away.

So- the weight is actually good. I was afraid I had gained back more. We go to pick up my treadmill tomorrow, and I am so busy aroud the house with prjects, I am getting a ton of exercise. After the two days of cooking, my legs literally ached all the way up to my waist- I was on my feet for 2 days! I think I am going to take it easy this eventing, watch some movies, and fold laundry. Yep, that sounds about right.

Cookin' up a storm...

Holy Toledo.

OK, evidently there's some domesticity virus that I caught.

I was online last night, looking at RecipeZaar, which is a resource I haven't accessed in awhile. One of our neighbors had come by and offered up a plethora of reeeeallly ripe fruit- grapes, plums, red pears, and some peaches. So I needed to find something to do with them.

Bring on Nectarine and Plum Crisp, Pear Smoothies, and Peachy Chicken.

That settled, I started window shopping among the recipes, and I am suddenly in the middle of a cooking binge. This is an event that rarely happens, and of course, there are complications: My oven is dead. We've found a new one that we like, but with the weird configuration of our counters, it's is going to mean a lot of carpentry work and probably new counters and flooring. However, with the approaching holiday season, I am wanting to bake stuff. So maybe that will light a fire under us.

Because we have a non-functioning oven, I took the Nectarine Crisp to my buddy's to cook, on the proviso that she got a piece. Ad yes, I had some too! I was pretty good though, the rest went to hubby and the neighbors. I know my limitations.

Anyway, while browsing, I started to run into the acronym "OMAC". For the uninitiated, this stands for "Once a Month Cooking". How can this exist?! You guys know, I had to try it. You have a two-day cooking orgy, and then just freeze everything in Ziploc'd portions and thaw it as needed. Only one huge mess to clean up once a month. How did I never think of this? Hell, where do I sign up?!

So....guess what I've been doing today and will be doing continuing through tomorrow? And yes, oh BOY do I miss my oven! I have been trying to convert some of the recipes requiring an oven to stove top, with OK results (as far as I can tell).

Here's the menu so far:

Peach "Dump" Chicken It's a whole lot yummier than it sounds!
Chicken & Barley Stew
Banana Chocolate Chip Bread (Shut up- it's for hubby! I think it'd be delicious with PB...mmmmmmm)
Herbed Chicken w/ Grapes
A-1 Steak
Thai Peanut Chicken
Crock Pot Roast This is in the Crockpot right now, and it smells heavenly......
Cauliflower w/ Bacon
Lentil & Apricot Soup Sounds a trifle odd, but sooo yummy!
Split Pea Soup with Ham (Instead of Ham, I used Turkey bacon)
Italian Spinach
Crockpot Black Bean Salsa Chicken
Crockpot Family Chili
Spaghetti Sauce

So, a whole lot of new stuff, along with some old standards. I have tweaked stuff where it doesn't fit with SBD, so I will actually be eating healthy all month, as long as I eat at home.

OK, gotta go- the stove beckons!

Still alive...

I can't believe it's been a week since I posted! I have a ton going on. It also took me a day or so to get all recovered from Inland Invasion, which was....amazing. AMAZING. My only regret is that we missed the last band to play, which was Cake. We uh, skipped Oasis on purpose- 'nuff said.

So, been working on a variety of projects. Helping get hubby kicking on his new car blog, Rebuilding Clarisse. I have just been helping hhim take more photos and upload them, and am showing him the ins and outs of Blogger.

I have also been taking a stained glass class- I'm taking some pics tonight, they should be uploading sometime tomorrow. I am already very impressed with my new creation, and it's only about a quarter of the way done. Woo!

Let's see, what else- trying to get caught up on housework and laundry, (I know, booooring!) so I decided to procrastinate and sew myself a nifty new apron. Once again, pictures are forthcoming. It's so cute- abstract white roses on a black background, with white & black polka-dot fabric for the ties and trim. I forgot how much closer sewing is to "instant gratification" than knitting. Being able to finish an object bigger than a washcloth in less than two hours just blows my mind.

Dieting isn't really a priority this week, although I have been moving around quite a bit and not really eating anything horrible. My wonderful neighbor brought over some fruit yesterday, so we have a ton of healthy snacks in the house. I haven't weighed in awhile though, so I better do that tomorrow.

Back to the grind...

Oh wow....it's Wednesday.

Let's see....I have been eating pretty much to specs, but I know my portions are evil.

I found these great "ice Cream" bars- "Tofutti Hooray!" bars. Wow. I am managing to keep myself to one a day. They are sugar free, and since they are in some way made of tofu, they seem to have actual nutrients. Either that, or I will wake up tomorrow and realize that it was all a dream or that it's true, and I sold my soul to the devil to procure them or something.

Anyway. Even my husband likes them.

I have been combining two of my current obsessions- knitting and exercise. I managed to design a teeny tiny tote to take with me to the gym. It will handily hold my iPod, all the iPod acessories, keys, a small notepad and pen, and the all important lipgloss. There's also a pocket on the outside for my gym card and a loop at the bottom for my bottled water. I stuck some new pictures of my creation on flickr here.

Can you tell I am just a tad obsesive?

I also took my first stained glass class tonight. I am so excited! I can't wait to get into the more advanced projects. I need to get some basic supplies tomorrow, so I am ready for next week.

I am going to go to the gym tomorrow, to break in my new teeny tiny tote. And also, hopefully prevent any signs of butt enlargement.

Oh- here's something exciting! On Saturday, I am going with friends to see Inland Invasion. If you aren't into alt rock, this will mean little or nothing to you, but if you ARE, here's the high points of the(phenomenal!!!) lineup:

• Beck
  
• Cake
  
• Fishbone
  
• Garbage
  
• Jet
  
• Kasabian
  
• Live
  
• Madness
  
• Oasis
  
• 311
  
• Weezer
  

Yes, I plan to be in a joyful rock-induced coma for most of the day. Hopefully, I can take pictures- I better look into that!

Cue "Twilight Zone" theme music...

Today has just been- a weird day. I am in a major funk. I haven't gone to the gym, so I know that a good part of it is being cooped up. I haven't even dragged my butt over to get my passport stuff.

On a positive note, I did manage to watch A Streetcar Named Desire, and Gone With The Wind while I was knitting and folding laundry. I had never seen Streetcar before. All I have to say is, Marlon Brando...WOW. Since to my generation, the guy was The Godfather....WOW. Sorry, I'm all verklempt.

Other than that- eating slightly better today. I made some chicken soup with spinach and veggies, and have basically been living on that. The leftover dessert is almost gone. I am hoping that hubby will help me dodge the bullet and finish it off for me tonight.

Another positive thing- the first of my circle of friends from college had a baby last week, and she sent me pictures today. Her little boy is the most beautiful, perfect little thing. And I am not one to think that newborns are beautiful, but this little guy is absolutely gorgeous.

I finally caved and got a flickr Pro account, so I have spent most of this afternoon obsessively moving photos around and creating sets. If you'd like to check 'em out, click here! I now have a "pets" set up on there, as well as a set for Clarisse, the new/old car.

We also managed to decide on plates for the old girl- she didn't come with antique Nebraska plates, so she'll have a new identity here in CA. Since "Clarisse" is too long, and "Clarice" is taken, we decided to just go basic: DIVYN'59. Yes, that one was mostly me. : )

Split personality

I have been so, so, very bad re: food today. I don't even care to discuss it.

OK, you talked me into it.

At least there are leftovers, although I don't think I am going to be able to eat most of them without a guilty conscience. I guess I can blame PMS, or I can blame the celebration-worthy day I had! We had appetizers...which were vaguely naughty- and then I got the baked potato with my fairly reasonable dinner, and then I got dessert. To share.

I admit it- we went to Claim Jumpers, and I ordered this concoction that combined eclairs, hot fudge, and vanilla ice cream into ONE dessert. I should have known by the horrified look the waitress gave me when I ordered it. If I had been sharing it with nine people, the portions still would have been generous. The waitress eventually had to bring us a vat/aluminum containment unit to pour it into, and it is now in my freezer, presumably writhing and lying in wait and scheming to throw itself down my alimentary canal while I am sleeping.

So- Reasons to celebrate- My new laptop finally arrived, Hooray!

And also:

We have a new member of the family. She is yet to be named- any suggestions? No, "Christine" isn't quite what we had in mind! UPDATE: We have tenatively decided upon "Clarice". It sounds sort of prissy, yet dangerous, so we think it's perfect for her...

This will give you a vague idea of what our behemoth looks like- except ours is white & turquoise, instead of white & red. The guy who transported it here from Nebraska had just fallen in love with it. He kept patting it affectionately while he unloaded it, like it was a big, faded, slightly rusty, turquoise and white dog that had followed him home.

It was crazy- while it was being unloaded, laboriously started up, and pushed into our garage, half the neighborhood came out to watch the spectacle. Seriously- you just have to stare at this thing. It's so eye-catching, even in its current dilapidated state, that it's ridiculous.

It needs a lot of work and TLC...but I suspect I am gonna love cruising around when it's finally restored. Look at those fins! I am in love. I am voting for this color scheme. I mean, dang! Wouldn't anyone?! My spoilsport husband wants to keep it original, but...after seeing that picture, I am not going to quite nagging about it anytime soon. (Turquoise and Black! Turquoise and Black!)

Anyway, the thing is a boat. You could fit about 4 bodies in the trunk. Not that I plan to, but uh, I'm just sayin'....we could baaaaarely squeak it into the garage. However, the thing needs extensive restoration, and I suspect voles are nesting in the upholstery, so this is going to be a long and exhaustive process. I will say this- there's a ton of chrome, and its in beautiful shape.

Can you tell that we're a tad retro-obsessed? Between this land yacht and our circa 1950's secondary refrigerator, I am willing to bet that we have more genuine American steel in our garage than anyone else in the neighborhood.

Fat Flashback #3

I don't know if this is technically a "fat" flashback, but here goes-

I was about 10 years old, and in a dressing room with my mother and little sister. We were on vacation in San Diego, and we were in a department store, trying on swimsuits.

My mother kept exiting, and coming back with armload after armload of bright flowery, stretchy stuff. My sister and I were usually dressed in matching or complimentary outfits at all times, although, since she is a few years younger than I am, I was finally beginning to balk at this. What looks cute on a six year old doesn't look so hot when you're ten.

Anyway, my sister was prancing in a bright turquoise suit with hot pink hibiscus on it (remember, this was the eighties!) She was obviously thrilled. She looked adorable. Mom handed me the matching suit in my size, and I managed to yank it on- but not before I noticed her startled gaze alighting on my rear end.

I'd always been a skinny kid, and body consciousness was a completely foreign concept to me. I just remember mom squinting at me in the mirror.

"Maybe the next size up?" she said, and departed to go get it. My sister, never patient at the best of times, started hanging on the swinging door, while I performed my first dressing room manouver that every woman is familiar with- trying to look at my butt in the three-way mirror. Since I'd never really noticed it before, it was hard to ascertain what the issue was.

Mom came back with the turquoise swimsuit in the next size up- as well as a black swimsuit with bright multi-color polka dots and a generous ruffle around the hips.

I tried on the larger turquoise suit. It fit, but I could tell there was something about it that bothered her.

"Can I try the black one?" I asked. I had loved it on sight- The flirty polka-dots, the ruffle, everything. It even had spaghetti straps, and it was BLACK, which meant it was grown up. Plus, an added bonus- it matched nothing of my sister's. Yes!

I tried it on, and it was magical. I adored it. I felt grown up, I felt like a polka-dot mermaid. Needless to say, we bought the black suit.

We got back to the hotel, and jumped into the pool, having a great time splashing and playing Marco Polo and practicing hand-stands and underwater somersaults in the shallow end.

Then Dad got out of his conference, and we both hopped out of the pool to show off our new suits, ponytails dripping.

"Very nice-" he said, looking askance at me, and then said to Mom- "It's kind of grown up though- what happened to the matching?"

Mom sort of turned a reddish color, and then she said, "Well, um, she's got...a BOTTOM."

I could tell that they were both vaguely embarrassed, but nothing else was said. We all hustled up into the room and got dried off and changed for dinner.

Once Dad's conference was over, we went to Sea World, and the wild animal park, and visited my Grandpa and Great-Uncle. I just remember Mom and Dad watching me closely at intervals throughout the vacation. Evidently, they had just realized that I wasn't going to look like a little girl for very much longer, although, of course I was unaware of that at the time.

I wore that black swimsuit until the elastic finally gave out. The "bottom story" was finally brought up again when I was well into my teens- my mother joked that she'd been stunned in that dressing room. "You were such a skinny little thing- and then all of a sudden, BOOM! I remember thinking, Where did those hips come from?!"

I remember that afternoon in the pool in San Diego as being the last time I was free from self-consciousness about my appearance. It makes me sad that little girls don't seem to have that innocence today.

Curse you, Demon Shorts!!!

OK, here goes-

I am up at least two pounds, as of my last weigh-in on Friday. AIIIIGH! I am trying not to panic, as I am relatively sure that I am just retaining water from the renewed exercising.

Still, BLEAH! I haven't been blameless as far as my eating habits are concerned either, so I do have reasons for the concern. But I mean, it's not like I stuck my face in a tiramisu- just a little bit here and there. And yes, I know that still counts!

I was going to weigh again this morning, but I drank a ridiculous amount of water before I thought about it- so that didn't happen.

I am not getting too perturbed though. My size 20 jeans are still baggy in the rear and legs- they were tight on me when I bought them, and that was before I washed them! And a new discovery today...

I bought three pairs of shorts at Old Navy- at the beginning of the summer. Unfortunately, I didn't try them on first- for some reason, I decided to tempt fate, rip the tags off, and then try them. Uh- Whoops. Do I even have to say that it was a mistake?

Damn this low-rise thing! I am long-waisted, and it makes it so hard to find decent pants and shorts that fit, even when I am into smaller sizes. I can actually wear skirts a size smaller than pants pecause of this.

Anyway, I could "technically" put the shorts on- I got both legs into them and zipped them- however, I literally bulged out of them. The waist hit me about mid-hip, and I don't even want to talk about the inseam. 'Nuff said.

So today, out of a morbid sense of curiosity, I took the Demon Shorts out of the drawer where they'd been gathering dust for three months. And- miracle of all miracles, they actually fit.

They're still not perfect- they are simply the wrong shape for me- but they no longer give me the ridiculous roll over the waistband. And my legs are noticably more toned,although how that is possible after only two sessions at the gym, I cannot say. But it makes me slightly more willing to wear the aforementioned Demon Shorts in public.

Ok, so I am going to buckle down this week. I was good today, and that's the plan for the next couple of weeks. I have got to get the ball rolling. (Think Paris in December....Paris in December...)

Tomorrow, I go back to the gym. I was going to go today, but they closed early due to Labor Day. To be honest, I was sort of relieved- my lower back keeps twingeing and muttering at me. But I feel great this evening, so tomorrow would be perfect for a re-match between me and my nemesis, the Precor. Woot!

Oh. And I am getting a new passport photo and applying for a birth certificate. GAH!

Woo!

I went to the gym. 40 minutes on the elliptical- 2.7 miles, 470 calories. Holy mackerel.

I suspect that I am going to develop an unhealthy dependence on the Precor- again. I just need to remind myself that I still have a nagging twinge in my lower back, and that I should probably keep going easy.

In other news, I still don't have a passport.

I went to lunch with my partner in crime, and she said that they take passport photos at the UPS store near her house. Dear GOD! $13.95- what a racket. It took about 30 minutes to get the camera set up and to take a useable photograph.

It wasn't until we were back in the car that I realized that the photos are completely out of focus- in addition to which, they looked like they were hacked apart by a kindergartener who flunked "scissors". Needless to say, the post office refused to take them- and I also have to have an original birth certificate- a copy won't work.

I guess I know what I'm doing on Tuesday! Downtown. Hooray!

And for the record- the little couple ahead of me in line at the post office tipped me off that you can get passport photos at Costco for 5 bucks. Just don't wear your glasses- they won't accept the photos if you're wearing anything that obscures your eyes.

Promises, promises...

I am going to the gym tomorrow. If I don't, you guys are seriously required to beat me up. Or at least, send me guilt-inducing e-mails, I mean it.

Ahem.

I've been doing some thinking. (Surprised?)

This comes from a minor tiff I had with my husband the other day. Here's the Reader's Digest Version:

Me: I hate it when you squeeze my tummy.

Him: Why not? I like your tummy!

Me: Well, I don't.

Him: I wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself.

Me: I am just self-conscious, because I'm fat.

Him: You're not fat.

Me: Um, actually, I am.

Him: Well, I don't think of you that way. When I look at you, I don't think that you're fat. I just know that I love you.

Repeat, with variations, on a regular basis.

Yes, it's very sweet. And I didn't push the issue too far. But the thing is, this is not a matter of perception. While I know the BMI is a load of garbage, it places me firmly in the "obese" category.

I have accepted the fact that I am fat, and have a realistic perception of how to handle it. I mean, I weigh just under 240 lbs, and at 5'7", I carry it frighteningly well- which is probably why I let things go so far before I do something about it.

I have struggled with my weight for around two decades now- my first WW membership was as young as they'll take you- and it's just been a slippery slope since then. I have gained and lost so much weight, and my body image has morphed back and forth so much, that I have been startled by photographs where I look like a completely different person- like the image in my mind has been inflated. Or I'll see the reflection of me minus 30 lbs in a mirror or window as I pass, and honestly have no clue for a few seconds that it's me.

The thing is, when I reach my goal weight of 180- I will still, by most conventional standards, be "fat". I identify myself as fat, and to tell you the truth, I am working past considering it an insult. To me, 180 is a completely healthy and responsible weight, and would put me somewhere in the neighborhood of a size 10. If that's fat- so be it. Hollywood and New York Fashion Week can just BITE ME.

Having said that, I ordered an art print last week. I saw it online and fell in love with it- I think this woman is absolutely gorgeous. Also, if you haven't seen "Monsoon Wedding", it's one of my favorite movies. Yes, there are some subtitles, but it's so worth it. You see gorgeous people, who look *gasp* normal, and the storyline is fantastic.

Oh, WHAT a day.

So, I decided to do some laundry, and watch my movies from Netflix all afternoon, and maybe do a little knitting.

Feeling productive, I loaded the washer and dryer, picked up my knitting, and happily immersed myself in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind".

Around a half hour later, my husband came home early from work and asked, "Did you turn on the sprinklers? Because the driveway's wet."

Hmmmmm.....no. We decide that the sprinkler timer just went off or something. So we sit and watch the movie for a bit, and then I go to switch laundry over to the dryer.

The garage is FLOODED. Water is running down our driveway. Did I mention we have cardboard boxes and bags of clothing that is supposed to go to charity on the floor, not to mention 20 80 lb. bags of cement and a whole bunch of boxes of books and papers that we still haven't unpacked from our move two years ago? There's also huge wooden bookcases and shelves that I am re-painting and a bunch of painting supplies- also directly on the concrete floor.

ACK!

So- we lost some cement, but managed to save most of hubby's old childhood drawings, and threw out a lot of stuff that we didn't need. This also has lit a fire under me with regards to finishing up the shelving. So we'll have our garage back.

I'm not sure what this has to do with anything, except I do have to say that between the heavy lifting and the adrenaline, it was quite a workout.

The one where I go to the gym- and I don't die!

Argh!

Yes, I finally, finally went. The sad thing is, that I love all the sweet little women who go to my gym, and I still avoid it. The staff knows me there, though, so everytime I miss a few days (months...years)I get, "Hey! Where have you been?!

Yes, it makes me feel guilty enough so I don't want to go back. Yes, I am a dork. These women have seen me about 25 lbs. heavier than I am now. But they also saw me about 40 lbs. lighter. So I am *slightly* self-conscious about my bad gym attendance record.

Anyway, I went. I think I said that already. All the elliptical machines were taken, and instead of my usual, "It's a sign from God- I'm leaving-" excuse, I just bullied myself into hopping on a treadmill and going to town. 15 minutes in, I realize that my body is quite literally running on empty- I hadn't eaten breakfast. But I stuck it out- 30 minutes, 2 miles, 225 calories. Actually, it's probably more than that, but I didn't input my weight. I did sprint a few times during the fast songs on my iPod.

I have this weird fantasy, involving being one of those "women who runs." It involves me, about 60 lbs. thinner, wearing a color-coordinated outfit with my iPod in a band right above my bicep. I am loping through the streets of my neighborhood like a gazelle. There is also a long swishy ponytail, and the mylar swooshes on my Nikes are flashing in the early morning sun.

I can picture this very vividly in my head, and at first, I laughed at it. But why? I did a decent 7 minute mile in high school. Granted, I had to wear two bras on top of each other to keep from knocking myself out, but I did it. It does however, seem a lot further away when I am taking 30 minutes to go two miles on the treadmill in my climate-controlled gym.

And another one gone-

Well, I am counting it as one, anyway. It's actually .8, according to my irritatingly accurate digital scale. So- 12.6 lbs. lost so far, down to 238.4.

I have been slacking this week. I haven't been filling the huge jug of water, nor have I been cooking at home- I desperately need to do the grocery shopping. And I haven't been exercising. Gah!

With some luck, the hubby and I are going to pick up the treadmill on Monday, which also happens to be his day off. But there's so much to do around the house, stuff that I need to catch up on. I definitely want to avert the gradual slide back into my funk.

But in brighter news, I got my first official comment today- woohoo! *waves*

It's always good to know that you're not alone in the universe.

Fat Flashback # 2

I was in Ross, doing my favorite thing (trying on shoes) when a couple wandered along the aisle my friend and I were standing in. Of course, the first thing I noticed is that they were both on the preppy side- he was the typical regular guy with an open face and wearing an LL Bean barn jacket, and she had that slim, perfect figure and a blonde bob, complete with an Eddie Bauer stroller with a blonde baby in it. They had every outward appearance of being the quintessential Happy American Family. My shopping buddy looked at them (two people, a shopping cart, and a stroller is a really narrow shopping aisle) and took off to look at towels.

My husband was due to return from military duty in the Middle East any day. We'd been married for four months, and then he went away for six. Looking back at this now, I admit that was very jealous of their little family unit. I would have done anything to be shopping with my husband.

Not to mention, I was trying on shoes, and had been trying on clothes. My hair (never well-behaved at the best of times) was all tangled and snarly and wild, and I was wearing an asymmetrical slip dress, the one with the straps that always straggle off my shoulders. I felt fat and sweaty. I definitely envied her sleek, wholesome appearance. Anyway, I heard her tell her husband something to the effect that she was going to go look at housewares, and rolled blithely off with her stroller, leaving him standing in the (Women's) shoe aisle with me. OK.

He just stood there, occasionally pulling a pair of shoes off the shelf, with me trying not to look at him and thinking that he's way too preppy to be a cross-dresser, but whomever they're for, those red patent leather pumps are a fashion mistake.

Yes, I started to feel uncomfortable, especially when I realized that he was not leaving. Finally, he abandoned all pretense of looking at the shoes and was just watching me. More uncomfortable. I finally burst out with, "Can I help you? Are you looking for something for your wife?"

He just gaped at me, and finally said, "I'm sorry. I apologize for staring."

I sort of laughed nervously. Male attention makes me uncomfortable- and there are good reasons for it, which I won't go into here. Suffice it to say, I tend to feel like I am being mocked or ridiculed in a negative way, because of my weight. And sometimes, they just blurt out whatever's on their mind, with is usually a bad idea. So I was waiting for him to say that I have spaghetti sauce on my face or make some sort of horrible comment about my big ass that would take me right back to the hell of high school.

He turned back to the shoe rack for a minute, then he turned back around and said, "I just have to tell you- that you are beautiful. You are a goddess."

I think I said something brilliant like "Uh....!" and he just melted off into the underbrush.

*bowmp chicka chicka bowmp*

Sorry- I am a little goofy.

Weighed in this morning- down another 1.8. Which is probably actually 1.9, as the scale kept wavering, but I'll take it. So I am officially down to 239.2...I have 58.2 lbs. to go until I get to my "goal weight". Yeehaa! I weighed 180 lbs. when I went off to college, which is why I think it's a realistic goal for me. I guess I will know when I get there if I want to lose more- but I am thinking I wouldn't want to be under 160. I would look skeletal.

Yep- weight loss slows on P2. But I know I can do this. My back is no longer grumbling too much, so I am planning to ease into exercise this week. It's amazing what incentive this Paris trip is giving me. It's also amazing that I am officially (ok, barely) into the 230's. I stalled at 231 last time around, and the scale wouldn't move for love nor money. Ideally, this is where the exercise comes in.

Gawd, how boring. I swear, I don't like talking about weight loss this much. So, I am going to go eat my lunch.

The license has landed

Muuuahahahhaaaa!

I got my new driver's license today. Presumably, I can now buy cooking sherry unhindered by the moronic multitudes. Watch, they won't card me this time. I'll bet you money!

Anyway- the new ID is entertaining for several reasons:

1. My weight. I added 20 lbs. to the original lie that was on there, so the figure now matches my eventual goal weight. In other words: it's still off by 60 lbs. But, it WAS off by 91 before. So uh...yeah. God, that's just pathetic. At least now, I am being realistic. Sort of.

2. My facial expression is beyond hilarious. I look stunned, and not even in a polite way- like I am paralyzed with terror. Like, in a "Luke, I am your father" kind of disbelieving horror, crossed with the possibility that my erstwhile photographer has just smacked me across the face with a decaying mackerel. I look very wide-eyed and glazed over, like I've been laminated. I mean it. I didn't even know that I had that face in my arsenal.

Although, it is worth noting that a neck and some cheekbones do appear to be emerging out of nowhere. And I have somehow managed to avoid being hot pink or shiny, OR squinty, AND it's not an extreme close-up, which were all exciting features of the last license in my posession (may it rest in peace.)

3. Hooray!!! I am going to France with a buddy in December. Now that I have my ID, in addition to being able to purchase cooking sherry, I can finally submit the paperwork for my passport. I am so excited- I have never been off the North American continent before!

This gives me new resolve to stay strong: I want to lose at least a few lbs. by December. OK, more than a few: at least 20. Which means I better step up the exercise, pronto.

In other news, I went to Stitch N' Bitch on Wednesday, and three people mentioned that they could tell I had lost weight. Yes! I am encouraged so much by this- I just feel great. It is also worth noting that I am another .6 lbs. lighter than the last weigh-in- down to 240.4.

So- happy days!

Evidently, I had a brain tumor for breakfast.

Ok. So I go to Trader Joe's to stock up today. I regularly go in there to shop. Like at least once a week.

In case you were wondering, this is my attempt at foreshadowing.

Anyway, it's been a fairly lousy 10 day run, weight loss excepted. A random parade of projectile vomiting, someone stole my wallet and then used my credit card, I had to go to the DMV....I am expecting the plague of locusts any day now.

So, I go shopping. I am going to make a roast, which I have defrosted, and is all ready to go.

If you guys haven't seen the problem yet, here it is- one of the ingredients in the roast recipe is "dry sherry." Which is the only kind of alcohol we don't have in the house. And I have conveniently forgotten that while I have a temp driver's license, there's no picture on it.

I did pause when I grabbed the sherry, but then laughed at myself. Come ON people- I'm thirty. And dammit, I look thirty. I know that because, hey, I look at me all the time, and I am definitely a thirty-year-old woman. And I have probably looked thirty or thereabouts since I was about 15 or so.

HA! Fie upon my self-confidence! The 12 year old checker girl picked up the bottle of sherry from amidst about $100 of other groceries, and asked me for ID. I pulled out the paper temporary license, explained the situation, and expected- oh, I don't know....sanity, perhaps. Because, dammit, I'm thirty. I'm buying swiss chard and wild rice! Give me a break!

"Sorry, ma'am," she said."We're supposed to card if you look under 50. That's how they train us. I'll just ask my manager."

Fifty? Since when is it fifty?!!! Wasn't it supposed to be thirty?! Pretty soon, you'll have to roll in on your Lark and hook a bottle of schnapps down with your cane not to get carded. Fifty?

I sort of laughed- and made some comment that if I was under 21, Trader Joe's has some premium liquor and a huge wine selection, and I would definitely come up with something better to try to sneak through than a bottle of cooking sherry.

The manager came out. Short. Beetle browed. Napoleon complex. Ugly shoes. Crap in a basket! (That's an exclamation, by the way- he did not have actual crap in a basket.) He looked me up and down like I was an appliance on sale at Sears and he was checking for dings. Bastard.

"No, can't take this. Once she asks you, we can't run through the sale." Like a big cage is going to come down from the ceiling and sirens are going to go off or something.

What kind of stupid managerial B.S. is that?

Needless to say, I left without my sherry.

The punch line- the silver-haired guy in back of me (who laughed when I made the crack about the liquor) had a cart FULL of two buck Chuck. As I was leaving, he winked and slapped his I.D. on the counter and said, "OK, sweetie, I'm over 50- but I look much younger, so I thought I'd show you anyway."

GAH!

Be careful what you wish for

I woke up yesterday, and just didn't feel like eating breakfast. My sister is visiting, so we agreed to go together to her fave little Armenian place in town.

I love Armenian food (I'm half) and I managed to pass on the pilaf and even gave my sister my cheese borag. Those are my favorite! But I didn't seem to have much of an appetite anyway. I was just picking at stuff.

We were talking and laughing and catching up, and all of a sudden, I just felt that interior lurch in my stomach that means, "I have to get out of here RIGHT NOW!"

Luckily, we were close to my house. And once I'd tossed my cookies (figuratively speaking, of course- No cookies on South Beach!) I was fine. But man, that's the worst- I had had two bites of lunch, and I seriously can't believe the sheer volume of- er- everything. To quote the Wedding Singer, I think a boot came out of me!

At least I know it wasn't food poisoning- I'd had the exact same meal as my sister, and the same meal as my best friend the night before! And they were both fine. Nausea is a side effect of one of the meds I'm taking- so that is the official explanation.

So, yesterday I had about a gallon of water, a can of Hansen's Diet ginger ale, and a few sugar-free creamsicles.

On the plus side, I am down another 3.6 from my weigh-in a few days ago. Holy Cow!!
We'll see if it stabilizes. I know I am not dehydrated (see above about the gallon of water!)

So the official number is 241. The first goal is 180, which will be the first time I have seen that weight since- high school. HIGH SCHOOL! Dear God. The lowest I think I want to go would be 170-175. But, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Another one bites the dust

Ok- one more pound gone! Down to 244.4 when I weighed this morning.

I finally caved and bought sugarfree fudgesicles last night. They seem to be taking the edges off my sweet cravings- at least for now. I have noticed that I am also slacking on the water, and that's not good.

Still- 3 1/2 more days until fruit!

I need to replenish my fridge and make some meals to tide me over. I think that's what I'll do this evening.

Off topic- I had to go to the DMV today. I made an appointment- and the woman I dealt with was actually nice. She actually teased me, because evidently, the shock showed on my face! I am so used to the disgruntled/hardly speaks English/angry DMV person. What fresh hell is this? *grin*

So I took a new picture for the license to replace the stolen one. Here's hoping I will not be hot pink this time around! I also adjusted my weight to my goal weight (which is still 20 lbs. heavier than what was on my last license, it pains me to admit.)

So- off to Social Security tomorrow for my new card, and City Hall or thereabouts for a duplicate birth certificate, just in case this ever happens again...*knock wood*

Ah, the siren song of strawberries...

Seriously. I would like, KILL for a nectarine. Well, maybe not kill. But a show of violence wouldn't be completely out of the question. 7 days until Phase 2 and FRUIT!

I was weighing myself every day, until I realized that it made me somewhat suicidal, watching my weight yo-yo all over the damn place. Mostly in the upward direction.

This morning, though, I finally caved. Result! I am down to 245.4 lbs. Down from 249 when I started SBD, so that's 3.6 down for this week. Looking back at the high at my doctor's appt in June, I have lost 5.6 total. Considering what I have been dealing with, I am satisfied with that amount.

So it's going slow, but steady. Traditionally (that is, the one other time I did Phase 1 on South Beach) The first week went slow, and most of the loss was the second week. Here's hopin'! I am just glad the scale is finally going in the right direction.

So- one more week, and Operation Kick Your Own Ass goes into effect. This means I am going to be hauling my butt to the gym, and also training on the treadmill (which should be arriving at my house in the next day or so- Thanks Mom!).

I went a little berserk last night- When hubby got home at midnight, I was roasting veggies in the oven, steaming cauliflower, and cooking edamame- all at the same time. And I had hauled out the mandoline, so I also cut up a bunch of veggies for stew and snacking this week. He came in, inhaling, and said, "Something smells really good". I assume he wasn't talking about the cauliflower!

I told him that sorry! it was all veggies- SBD stuff- and if he was hungry, he should probably get fast food. "No," he said, "If you can't have fast food, I don't want it either. It's not good for us anyway, and I like the stuff you make better. I see how hard you are trying, and I could stand to lose a few pounds. Plus- I know I was always bringing crap home the last time you tried to do this, and I sort of felt like that was part of the reason you gave up. So- I'll have whatever you're eating- I am sure it will be great."

Well, color ME dumbfounded! This is not an adventurous guy, foodwise.

I was seriously stunned. I finally managed: "You know....you rock! Now, go take a shower." And I sent him packing with a kiss.

By the time he got out, I'd packed up the veggies and started some omelettes with cheese and spinach and canadian bacon in them. I just used the garlic Laughing cow (YUM!) for mine, mozzarella for him. He had regular O.J., I had Crystal Lite. And you know, he ate every bite, even though he's expressed trepidation about the spinach in the past.

So- I feel good!

Cruising Attitude

By the way, that is in no way a reference to Tom Cruise. He bugs.

So! No meltdowns, so far. Today is Day 3, and this is where I usually hit the wall with a resounding THWACK and want something, ANYTHING, with sugar in it. I guess the big test will be at SN'B tonight.

So- Life is good. I made white bean and sausage soup with some leafy greens in it last night, and if I may say so, it was to die for. Hubby seems to be happily eating what I fix, although it appears he has made himself a vat of Kraft Mac n' Cheese to tide him over the rough spots. I guess you could say that he is developing survival skills?

Other than that- quiet day. I found my pedometer- the cover is broken, but it still works. I do find that clipping it to the waistband of my jeans doesn't count all my steps. However, the waistband of the undies works in a pinch- or, I have also attached it to the center of my bra on moments of desperation. A little sweaty, but effective.

I have a ton of domestic-type-stuff to do today, and I want to upload some photo sets to flickr re: my crazy yarn stash. So I better turn off this infernal machine and go dig out the Lemon Pledge.

Who's counting?

Throwing My Weight Around

I just dragged myself out of what I'd like to call, "The Swamp of Existential Despair." That's got to be on par on the exercise log for at least 30 minutes on the Precor. Maybe I just think that because it feels like I've been smacked around the head by a bushel of bricks.

Needless to say, over the last couple of weeks, weight has not been a concern. I am a comfort eater, and it definitely shows.

Anyway, I am brushing off the muck, and getting back into the fray, again. Yep, AGAIN. I may be depressed, but I am also stubborn.

I started SBD today. I tried it last year, and I really liked it- I just felt healthier and more together, and I know it will be easier for me now that I am at home and not working in the hellhole.

So I did the shopping today, and am going to plan meals and do some pre-cooking tomorrow. I even have a diet buddy- hooray!

Now I just need to claw my way out of this funk.

It's bad. It's really bad. I was walking through the Trader Joe's parking lot, to return the carts to the corral. When I got into the car, my buddy said, "That guy over there in the Ford pickup was checking you out."

I just kind of laughed and said, "Yeah, whatever," and she said, "No, really".

What comes out of my mouth? "He was probably staring at me and thinking, 'Like that fat b*tch needs to be buying more food?'"

Naturally, she was upset with me. Hell, I am upset with me too, on general principles. But that's what my subconscious is doing to me. I am living proof- extra estrogen makes you crazy. Cray-ZEE IN-sane!

Oh God. I need to get past this.

It's hard. I watched Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien the other night, and both of them had fat jokes within the first 5 minutes of their routines. By the way, for any interested parties, this is where the rant begins.

One of them (I forget which) referred to Jude Law's nanny (the one he supposedly slept with) as being a "butterball."

OK, that woman is maybe, MAYBE a size 8. In addition to being blonde and cute as a button- she has a slightly round face. That's it.

And then there's that whole thing with Richard Roeper, may he burn eternally in the deepest pits of hell, bitching about the Dove campaign and the agony of being forced to look at non-Maxim, non-airbrushed, non-anorexic women on a billboard. ("Oh my God! A thigh greater than 12 inches in circumference- My eyes!!!! My EYES!!!!")

OK dude. Whatever. You're not exactly James Bond, by the way, Or even Orlando Bloom, for that matter. I hope you never get laid again in this lifetime. If you should somehow manage it, I hope you get a whopping case of crabs. Or fall in a vat of toxic waste. Or something.

And then, THEN, one of my very best friends got an email from a guy she'd been e-mailing with on a dating website. He'd been looking at her picture, and he wanted to ask her a "personal question"- why she wasn't willing to lose weight and live up to her potential.

He gave her the whole "You're so intelligent, and well-travelled, and funny, and gorgeous, you'd be perfect IF" line and even had the steel-belted-balls-the-size-of-Jupiter to ask if her weight was a due to a medical condition, or if she was just lazy, and said something along the lines of "I'd totally support you if you'd be willing to lose the weight"- which basically came down to, "Dude, I would so date you if you lost 50 lbs."

Whatever man. If she said, "You're so intelligent and funny and talented, you seem like such a great guy- I'd date you if you had a BMW/Medical Degree/Bigger Schlong, and I would totally support you if you'd be willing to Ditch the Tercel/Abandon your True Calling/Get a Penis Implant".....well, you'd think she was an insensitive shallow beeyotch. And, you'd be right.

Do the math buddy. And don't even give me that crap about weight being a health concern. We all know that's total BS. Especially with that paunch you've got, presumably from drinking too much Heinekin. It's not a health concern, it's worrying about what your friends will think. You, sir, are a HYPOCRITE, not to mention a BUTT WEASEL.

Heh. OK, so I am all worked up, and this didn't even happen to me. However, it has made me totally unwilling to leave the house. I just hate men on general principles. As well as hating my own body, something that I thought I had gotten past. And yes, I know men are not all like that. But I am sure glad I am no longer single.

I am eternally grateful that I met my husband when I was even heavier than I am now. And that he fell in love with my personality and my sultry voice on the radio. And that the first conversation I had with him, I told him flat out "I am a big girl. I'm not going to sugar-coat it, or use words like voluptuous. If that is going to be a problem, then I'm not even going to bother to meet you. So speak up now."

God, that was the scariest thing I have ever done. And he didn't even miss a beat. "No, I want to meet you, you sound amazing. I don't care so much what you look like."

The rest is pretty much history. Granted, I am insecure enough about my weight for both of us.

So, OK, the short little blurb I was planning turned into a rant/cheesefest. What the hell, I can't sleep.