Don't blame me, guys. I learned this while researching a freelance writing project on the topic of erectile dysfunction. I did slip in as many puns as I could, without trying to seem obvious. "It makes certain things harder to do..." and "...increases the chance of having ED..."
There was a ton more that was floating around in my head on this topic, but it will have to wait. We're taking friends to dinner in later and I'm super tired. Happy President's day, everyone. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, "Whatever you are...be a good one!"
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Since When Are Chicken Nuggets Healthier Than Turkey and Cheese Sandwiches?
Officials at a North Carolina public school now act as food police, closely monitoring what students bring in their bagged lunches. Any lunch that does not meet their stringent codes for what constitutes a healthy lunch is tagged unfit by the public school food police and supplemented with food from the school cafeteria.
One mom packed her daughter, a student at the public school, a turkey and cheese sandwich, potato chips, a banana, and some apple juice. But according to the public school food police, the meal was lacking in a serving of dairy, and vegetables. So instead, the girl was given a meal from the cafeteria that supplemented the vegetable and milk missing from her bagged lunch. And it also had chicken nuggets. I'm sorry, food police, but unless those are white-meat nuggets breaded with whole-grain crumbs, they're not healthier than a turkey and cheese sandwich. Then the public school food police added insult to injury, sending the girl's parents a bill to cover the cost of the lunch. The lunch they did not request or buy for their daughter.
Since when did public schools become the food police? We are still in America, land of the free, right? The student's family is quite upset at this, and I don't blame them a bit. After the incident, to make matters worse, the school backpedaled. They claim the girl was only told to get milk, but misunderstood and got an entire lunch. Really, public school food police? You're going to blame your mistake on a four year old?
Congress members Larry Kissell and Renee Elmers wrote the U.S. Department of Agriculture Secretary, in which they cite the gesture as an example of "government overreach" and call it a "waste of money" and an "embarrassment" to North Carolina public schools. Well...duh. However, I think the child's grandmother said it better. With an in-your-face attitude, she told the schools to focus more on academics and less on being the lunchtime food police, and to keep their hands out of her granddaughter's lunchbox. I couldn't have said it better myself.
One mom packed her daughter, a student at the public school, a turkey and cheese sandwich, potato chips, a banana, and some apple juice. But according to the public school food police, the meal was lacking in a serving of dairy, and vegetables. So instead, the girl was given a meal from the cafeteria that supplemented the vegetable and milk missing from her bagged lunch. And it also had chicken nuggets. I'm sorry, food police, but unless those are white-meat nuggets breaded with whole-grain crumbs, they're not healthier than a turkey and cheese sandwich. Then the public school food police added insult to injury, sending the girl's parents a bill to cover the cost of the lunch. The lunch they did not request or buy for their daughter.
Since when did public schools become the food police? We are still in America, land of the free, right? The student's family is quite upset at this, and I don't blame them a bit. After the incident, to make matters worse, the school backpedaled. They claim the girl was only told to get milk, but misunderstood and got an entire lunch. Really, public school food police? You're going to blame your mistake on a four year old?
Congress members Larry Kissell and Renee Elmers wrote the U.S. Department of Agriculture Secretary, in which they cite the gesture as an example of "government overreach" and call it a "waste of money" and an "embarrassment" to North Carolina public schools. Well...duh. However, I think the child's grandmother said it better. With an in-your-face attitude, she told the schools to focus more on academics and less on being the lunchtime food police, and to keep their hands out of her granddaughter's lunchbox. I couldn't have said it better myself.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Death by Chocolate
2012 started with extensive allergy testing. After being poked, prodded, and scratched the only allergies medical professionals could confirm were dogs, cats, and dust. Because two out of three of those things roam freely through my house (HINT I am totally not a cat person.) nearly constantly, I welcomed four more prescriptions to my daily regime of pills and tonics.
Some of the other things giving me issues are cinnamon, chocolate, and raw onions. The allergist seemed baffled at why these things cause a reaction, when the test showed no allergies to them. She referred me to my GI doc who I was seeing anyway for an unrelated issue. Maybe it's related to the esophagus.
Or maybe it's oral allergy syndrome. It's like whoever wrote the wikipedia article about it knows me personally. The descriptions are scarily accurate. Testing requires a series of oral challenges. (Yeah, every time I say "oral challenge" it sounds more dirty than the last time I said it.)
Sadly I was unable to bring it up with my tall, dark, handsome GI specialist because there was this massively huge poster on the wall behind his head titled something like this - LIVING WITH ANAL FISSURES. I know, right? There was no way I could talk about oral challenges with a straight face while looking at him, much less while looking at him with that title arcing above his head.
Until they get it figured out, I'll continue to skip chocolate. Thank goodness for conversation hearts, or it would be a very bleak Valentine's Day.
Some of the other things giving me issues are cinnamon, chocolate, and raw onions. The allergist seemed baffled at why these things cause a reaction, when the test showed no allergies to them. She referred me to my GI doc who I was seeing anyway for an unrelated issue. Maybe it's related to the esophagus.
Or maybe it's oral allergy syndrome. It's like whoever wrote the wikipedia article about it knows me personally. The descriptions are scarily accurate. Testing requires a series of oral challenges. (Yeah, every time I say "oral challenge" it sounds more dirty than the last time I said it.)
Sadly I was unable to bring it up with my tall, dark, handsome GI specialist because there was this massively huge poster on the wall behind his head titled something like this - LIVING WITH ANAL FISSURES. I know, right? There was no way I could talk about oral challenges with a straight face while looking at him, much less while looking at him with that title arcing above his head.
Until they get it figured out, I'll continue to skip chocolate. Thank goodness for conversation hearts, or it would be a very bleak Valentine's Day.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Size Matters
No sillies, I'm not talking about anatomy. I went out yesterday and bought a new laptop! It's beautiful, and the screen is huge. It says the screen is 15.6", but I swear it looks bigger. After working on a 10" netbook for four months this is sheer heaven. It's like going from drinking water to Kool-aide. Or Johnny Depp as Edward Scissorhands to Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow. It's like...well, you get the point, which is, "Size does matter."
Last night I was able to work on an article for my current client while also playing a video game and listening to Pandora without glitches, bumps, or long pauses to think about whether or not it really wanted to complete the task I requested. Of course, an hour's worth of work took more like four hours due to all the distractions, but lucky for my client I only charge by the project, and never by the hour. Even luckier that he'll never read this because while I'm sure the article I sent him at 1am was fairly error-free, I'm not sure he'd appreciate my not giving this project my full and undivided attention as it so deserves. But I was born to multitask and can hardly focus if there's not at least a little distraction.
Speaking of, time to get back to the current project. It's 8am on a Sunday morning. I feel like total crap, like I'm in the beginning stages of a really bad sinus infection or strep throat, and I'm still super excited about my job. That's because writing is the best job ever. Le sigh. I love grammar so much. Hope the rest of you are having an awesome weekend!
Last night I was able to work on an article for my current client while also playing a video game and listening to Pandora without glitches, bumps, or long pauses to think about whether or not it really wanted to complete the task I requested. Of course, an hour's worth of work took more like four hours due to all the distractions, but lucky for my client I only charge by the project, and never by the hour. Even luckier that he'll never read this because while I'm sure the article I sent him at 1am was fairly error-free, I'm not sure he'd appreciate my not giving this project my full and undivided attention as it so deserves. But I was born to multitask and can hardly focus if there's not at least a little distraction.
Speaking of, time to get back to the current project. It's 8am on a Sunday morning. I feel like total crap, like I'm in the beginning stages of a really bad sinus infection or strep throat, and I'm still super excited about my job. That's because writing is the best job ever. Le sigh. I love grammar so much. Hope the rest of you are having an awesome weekend!
Friday, February 10, 2012
And More Words
Tonight I finished up my second writing job, and put bids out for two more. It's pretty incredible that people are paying me to write for them. One of my favorite things to do is use correct grammar and spelling, so being paid to do something I really love is a level of awesome like I've never known. And yes, I know I sound like I should be wearing Buddy Holly glasses and a pocket protector, but I don't care. It's sheer awesomeness.
And now, for something less nerdy, and a little scary, and probably somewhat amusing.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love my dog. Gingerbelle is my best friend. She saved my life. She is the best listener ever, and she loves to cuddle and watch chick flicks. And as if that weren't cool enough, she has this badass fifth leg and her face looks all wonky from where she fused with her own twin in the womb. I've never met anyone who doesn't like her. And if they say they don't then they're big, fat liars.
More than anything, Gingerbelle loves to ride in the car. Mine has been in the shop for four weeks, but she found a way to get one anyway. You see, tonight Gingerbelle ran away. This not only frightened me, but it also kind of ticked me off. Here is a dog that has an easier life than most humans will ever know, and she runs away to the neighbor's house.
Why would she run away? Because this afternoon she heard me on the phone talking about my car. Being a dog and selectively having a vocabulary that's pretty limited to about eight words (bed, down, potty, bath, cookie, NO!, ride, and car) she misunderstood the conversation completely. Gingerbelle couldn't grasp, "Mommy doesn't have the car. The car is gone. We cannot go for a ride in the car." What she heard was something like this:
"Mommy car. Car. Go ride car."
So while I cooked dinner, my oldest walked Gideon, my husband's chocolate lab. He then let Gingerbelle outside. She typically runs to the edge of the woods, does her thing, and comes right back. But tonight, after ten minutes, she still wasn't home. I walked onto the front porch and was screaming my lungs out when I saw the neighbor's car slowly back out of their driveway and creep down the street towards our house. When my neighbor opened her car door there sat Gingerbelle with a huge smile on her face. And she gave me this snotty look that said, "YAY! Gingerbelle go ride car!"
Usually when my husband, a firefighter, works a 24-hour shift the dog and I retire to my room after dinner where we watch television while the boys play video games. Tonight I watched alone, as Gingerbelle was grounded and had to stay upstairs with the boys for four hours. At the end of her restriction, she leaped from the hallway and onto my bed. For a 46-pound golden retriever with scoliosis and hip issues, that was no small feat. She apologized by whining and cuddling against me, and is snoring at the foot of the bed as I type.
So that's how Gingerbelle got her beloved car ride despite the fact that mine has been in the shop for four weeks. Smartass dog.
And now, for something less nerdy, and a little scary, and probably somewhat amusing.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love my dog. Gingerbelle is my best friend. She saved my life. She is the best listener ever, and she loves to cuddle and watch chick flicks. And as if that weren't cool enough, she has this badass fifth leg and her face looks all wonky from where she fused with her own twin in the womb. I've never met anyone who doesn't like her. And if they say they don't then they're big, fat liars.
More than anything, Gingerbelle loves to ride in the car. Mine has been in the shop for four weeks, but she found a way to get one anyway. You see, tonight Gingerbelle ran away. This not only frightened me, but it also kind of ticked me off. Here is a dog that has an easier life than most humans will ever know, and she runs away to the neighbor's house.
Why would she run away? Because this afternoon she heard me on the phone talking about my car. Being a dog and selectively having a vocabulary that's pretty limited to about eight words (bed, down, potty, bath, cookie, NO!, ride, and car) she misunderstood the conversation completely. Gingerbelle couldn't grasp, "Mommy doesn't have the car. The car is gone. We cannot go for a ride in the car." What she heard was something like this:
"Mommy car. Car. Go ride car."
So while I cooked dinner, my oldest walked Gideon, my husband's chocolate lab. He then let Gingerbelle outside. She typically runs to the edge of the woods, does her thing, and comes right back. But tonight, after ten minutes, she still wasn't home. I walked onto the front porch and was screaming my lungs out when I saw the neighbor's car slowly back out of their driveway and creep down the street towards our house. When my neighbor opened her car door there sat Gingerbelle with a huge smile on her face. And she gave me this snotty look that said, "YAY! Gingerbelle go ride car!"
Usually when my husband, a firefighter, works a 24-hour shift the dog and I retire to my room after dinner where we watch television while the boys play video games. Tonight I watched alone, as Gingerbelle was grounded and had to stay upstairs with the boys for four hours. At the end of her restriction, she leaped from the hallway and onto my bed. For a 46-pound golden retriever with scoliosis and hip issues, that was no small feat. She apologized by whining and cuddling against me, and is snoring at the foot of the bed as I type.
So that's how Gingerbelle got her beloved car ride despite the fact that mine has been in the shop for four weeks. Smartass dog.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Weight of the Matter
Worse than the stereotypical Freshman 10 one gains when entering their first year at a college or university program is the Marriage 20. Or the pregnancy 60. Or the pregnancy 60 twice in less than two years. Been there, done that.
Past efforts to combat my weight include gym memberships, healthy food programs, and crash diets. Nothing works, and do you want to know why? Because I am lazy and like all the wrong kinds of foods. Even if I liked all the right kinds of foods, it probably wouldn't help because I'd still be too lazy to put time and effort into cooking from natural ingredients. If it's already in a box or a can, and and the instructions include an option for heating in the microwave, I'm right there! But lately I am doing better.
Thanks to a suggestion from my friend over at Dragonflies@Dawn I now record everything I eat in a day's time using a cool app called MyNetDiary. It really helps me stay aware not only of what foods I'm putting into my body, but also the portion sizes of those foods. I tried something like this once before and kept track on my own. The benefit of using the app is that I don't have to waste time looking up how many carbs are in a tablespoon of peanut butter or a slice of provolone cheese. Even if the amounts others previously entered into the system are relatively close, it's good enough for me.
The MyNetDiary app has a few other benefits as well. One is that it remembers my past entries. I inhale iced tea and vanilla lattes like vampires slurp type-O negative. The first few days, I was shocked at how much tea and coffee I really drank, mainly because of all the sugar I add to these already delicious beverages. I was quickly inspired to instead drink more Propel. You know...that flavored water sitting on the bottom shelf of my pantry since last summer.
Another benefit is that along with a variety of grocery items, other users have also already entered the statistics on foods from many popular restaurants. Last week on the way to an appointment with my doctor, my husband had a craving for breakfast from the dreaded Golden Arches. I pulled up the app on my Android phone and tada, I learned that it wasn't so bad if I had an Egg McMuffin and a glass of orange juice as long as I went easy on the carbs at lunchtime.
My goal is to stay on track with counting the carbs of everything I eat, and if I can continue doing a somewhat okay job with minimal exercise then I should be at my target weight (and more importantly, a much smaller size of jeans) by June 1, 2013. Ideally, if I begin to drop the pounds then I should naturally have a bit more natural energy that doesn't come in the form of a Mountain Dew Amp or coffee with the funky green mermaid logo.
And, I have a really snarky comment about what to do if it doesn't work. Except written out it sounded more bitchy than sarcastic, and so I backspaced over it. Instead, I'll leave off with this.
I really, really want an extra-large cherry cheese danish and a Pepsi. And instead, I'm going to have an apple slathered with peanut butter and a glass of water.
Past efforts to combat my weight include gym memberships, healthy food programs, and crash diets. Nothing works, and do you want to know why? Because I am lazy and like all the wrong kinds of foods. Even if I liked all the right kinds of foods, it probably wouldn't help because I'd still be too lazy to put time and effort into cooking from natural ingredients. If it's already in a box or a can, and and the instructions include an option for heating in the microwave, I'm right there! But lately I am doing better.
Thanks to a suggestion from my friend over at Dragonflies@Dawn I now record everything I eat in a day's time using a cool app called MyNetDiary. It really helps me stay aware not only of what foods I'm putting into my body, but also the portion sizes of those foods. I tried something like this once before and kept track on my own. The benefit of using the app is that I don't have to waste time looking up how many carbs are in a tablespoon of peanut butter or a slice of provolone cheese. Even if the amounts others previously entered into the system are relatively close, it's good enough for me.
The MyNetDiary app has a few other benefits as well. One is that it remembers my past entries. I inhale iced tea and vanilla lattes like vampires slurp type-O negative. The first few days, I was shocked at how much tea and coffee I really drank, mainly because of all the sugar I add to these already delicious beverages. I was quickly inspired to instead drink more Propel. You know...that flavored water sitting on the bottom shelf of my pantry since last summer.
Another benefit is that along with a variety of grocery items, other users have also already entered the statistics on foods from many popular restaurants. Last week on the way to an appointment with my doctor, my husband had a craving for breakfast from the dreaded Golden Arches. I pulled up the app on my Android phone and tada, I learned that it wasn't so bad if I had an Egg McMuffin and a glass of orange juice as long as I went easy on the carbs at lunchtime.
My goal is to stay on track with counting the carbs of everything I eat, and if I can continue doing a somewhat okay job with minimal exercise then I should be at my target weight (and more importantly, a much smaller size of jeans) by June 1, 2013. Ideally, if I begin to drop the pounds then I should naturally have a bit more natural energy that doesn't come in the form of a Mountain Dew Amp or coffee with the funky green mermaid logo.
And, I have a really snarky comment about what to do if it doesn't work. Except written out it sounded more bitchy than sarcastic, and so I backspaced over it. Instead, I'll leave off with this.
I really, really want an extra-large cherry cheese danish and a Pepsi. And instead, I'm going to have an apple slathered with peanut butter and a glass of water.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Oh the Weather Outside Is Frightful
This post is not about Chile. It's not about being chilly. It's about the most ultimate football food ever, chili. When our family makes chili, it's just my husband and I who eat it. However, we add and blend so many ingredients that the result is enough for an entire block party.
We were originally going to make this for Superbowl Sunday, before realizing that my husband is scheduled to work that day. When we saw snow falling around lunchtime, we decided to make it for dinner tonight, instead. Here's what we used:
Chili Ingredients:
Toppings:
Brown and drain the hamburger. Drain the corn. Throw everything in a pot and simmer until it's heated through. Then heat it for another hour or so. Top with a generous amount of shredded cheese, a handful of Fritos, and a large dollop of sour cream.
Yum.
We were originally going to make this for Superbowl Sunday, before realizing that my husband is scheduled to work that day. When we saw snow falling around lunchtime, we decided to make it for dinner tonight, instead. Here's what we used:
Chili Ingredients:
- 1 can of white pinto beans
- 1 can of red kidney beans
- 1 can of black beans
- 1 can of corn (drained)
- 2 cans of crushed tomatoes with chili spices
- 1 packet of chili seasoning
- 1 pound of hamburger
Toppings:
- Shredded cheddar
- Sour cream
- Fritos (chili and cheese flavor)
Brown and drain the hamburger. Drain the corn. Throw everything in a pot and simmer until it's heated through. Then heat it for another hour or so. Top with a generous amount of shredded cheese, a handful of Fritos, and a large dollop of sour cream.
Yum.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Lolly, Lolly, Lolly!
I love Schoolhouse Rock. Even after they pulled it from the lineup of Saturday morning cartoons, the catchy jingles stuck in my brain. Do you know how many college drinking games you can play based on Schoolhouse Rock songs? Trust me when I say there are a lot of them. I'd wager to say that in my childhood history of watching television, Schoolhouse Rock ran a close second to ABC Afterschool Specials.
Those movies were like Lifetime Movies for 80s tweens. Long before television dramas like Secret Life of the American Teenager or movies like Cyberbully, ABC Afterschool Specials tackled popular topics among teens. It focused on everything from good sportsmanship and a crush on the popular cheerleader, to eating disorders, drugs and alcohol, and everything in between. But, I digress.
As a child who ultimately preferred books to television, how could I not love Schoolhouse Rock? They used music to teach things like grammar and math! And the music was cool! No really, it was cool. And the lyrics? Unforgettable, that's what they are. Here are some I can recall off the top of my head:
Those movies were like Lifetime Movies for 80s tweens. Long before television dramas like Secret Life of the American Teenager or movies like Cyberbully, ABC Afterschool Specials tackled popular topics among teens. It focused on everything from good sportsmanship and a crush on the popular cheerleader, to eating disorders, drugs and alcohol, and everything in between. But, I digress.
As a child who ultimately preferred books to television, how could I not love Schoolhouse Rock? They used music to teach things like grammar and math! And the music was cool! No really, it was cool. And the lyrics? Unforgettable, that's what they are. Here are some I can recall off the top of my head:
- Three is a magic number.
- Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your adverbs here.
- Conjunction Junction, what's your function.
- I'm just a bill, yes just a bill and I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill.
- Naughty number nine, will tie you up, ooooh, in a knot.
Get your mind out of the gutter. That last one is about multiplication.
When home schooling my two sons, even though they are teenagers I still use Schoolhouse Rock videos in our lessons. This is partly because I hope the catchy tunes will stay with them in life, even beyond their time as a student. And partly, it is to prove to my husband that when it comes to all things grammar, compared to the way he butchers the English language, I am right.
We do not argue often. When we do, the subject has nothing to do with bills, or money, or anything from our past. It is almost always about something petty...like grammar. When he says something like "You boys don't need no coats" I fume inside. Outwardly I sigh, "Any. They don't need ANY coats." It is a never ending battle. His argument is that he does make an attempt to use better grammar around people who are well-spoken. Um...so what does that make me? Yeah, when it comes to arguing about grammar there is no end in sight.
Because my husband hates computers, I am fairly certain that he will never read this blog entry. In all fairness I did warn him this morning that he would be a featured guest. Honey, if you are reading this just remember -- I love you dearly, but greatly dislike the way you butcher the English language.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
One For You, Nineteen For Me
Today I had my taxes prepared. We've been using the same company for over 13 years now. Only this year was a little more interesting. The accountant had five piercings in each ear, and one in her nose. To each their own. I've always had the opinion that piercings and tattoos are like religion. You can do what you want, but please don't shove your thoughts and opinions about it down my throat.
Same names. Same social security numbers. Same address. Same blah blah we're boring no death, divorce, property sales or purchases, or anything to make her job any more difficult than it had to be. She looked up at my husband and said, "Wow, you're a firefighter? I bet you have some run some weird calls. What's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you?" He replies that he's not sure.
My poor husband is often very dense. While there are times I love using it to my advantage, I could see exactly where this was going. As he related a story about a patient who seemed perfectly fine one minute, and dead the next, she appeared totally crestfallen. This was not the kind of weird she wanted to hear, at all. She blurted, "That's not weird! That's depressing!" I tried not to be a smartass. I really, really tried. I promise, I tried very hard, Alot.
But sometimes, I just cannot help myself. I looked at her. I looked at my husband. I looked back at her, and said, "Honey, tell her about the guy with the cock ring." Out of the corner of my eye I saw his face turn crimson as hers brightened. She exclaimed, "That's weird!"
Sadly, my poor fireman stammered and "um'ed" and "ah'ed" until I had to tell the story. My version was condensed. Just enough weird to intrigue her. Just enough "ahem" to put her back on the task at hand. For a brief moment I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe she really didn't have that in mind. But then, she asked him about the weirdest thing he'd found on a house fire. And he's run across some pretty weird stuff.
She used it to segue into a story about a vibrator. You know how you want to tell something, about yourself, but it's embarrassing so you say, "This one time my friend...." Yeah. It was totally about her.
As a tax preparation person, she did an adequate job. That being said, I miss the other person who used to work there. I miss her, Alot.
Same names. Same social security numbers. Same address. Same blah blah we're boring no death, divorce, property sales or purchases, or anything to make her job any more difficult than it had to be. She looked up at my husband and said, "Wow, you're a firefighter? I bet you have some run some weird calls. What's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you?" He replies that he's not sure.
My poor husband is often very dense. While there are times I love using it to my advantage, I could see exactly where this was going. As he related a story about a patient who seemed perfectly fine one minute, and dead the next, she appeared totally crestfallen. This was not the kind of weird she wanted to hear, at all. She blurted, "That's not weird! That's depressing!" I tried not to be a smartass. I really, really tried. I promise, I tried very hard, Alot.
But sometimes, I just cannot help myself. I looked at her. I looked at my husband. I looked back at her, and said, "Honey, tell her about the guy with the cock ring." Out of the corner of my eye I saw his face turn crimson as hers brightened. She exclaimed, "That's weird!"
Sadly, my poor fireman stammered and "um'ed" and "ah'ed" until I had to tell the story. My version was condensed. Just enough weird to intrigue her. Just enough "ahem" to put her back on the task at hand. For a brief moment I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe she really didn't have that in mind. But then, she asked him about the weirdest thing he'd found on a house fire. And he's run across some pretty weird stuff.
She used it to segue into a story about a vibrator. You know how you want to tell something, about yourself, but it's embarrassing so you say, "This one time my friend...." Yeah. It was totally about her.
As a tax preparation person, she did an adequate job. That being said, I miss the other person who used to work there. I miss her, Alot.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
One-Third Have Quit
According to some big-time newspaper from some huge city, one-third of Americans who made resolutions on January first have since given up on them. Luckily for me, I never made any resolutions in the first place. In fact, I made a rather snarky post over on Hubpages about why I made un-resolutions for 2012. Things like, drink more, exercise less, and stay disorganized. So far, so good.
In my quest to make less changes to my life in 2012, I bought a fruit-infusion pitcher from Amazon for the sole purpose of doctoring up the wine I received for Christmas. And the first thing I made was...citrus-infused green tea. Then I made...fruit-infused Kool-aid lemonade. Finally for the NFL playoff games, I made a pitcher of sangria. Ten days later and half the pitcher still sits in the back of the fridge, behind the milk and orange juice. I've never had so little to drink in a 30-day period. And the wine? It's still in the fridge, too.
I also planned to work less. Considering that I am an artist who lazily procrastinates on every project that comes my way, this one seemed like a no-fail opportunity. Then, on January 2nd, I was hired to do some online work for a friend's company. And it turns out, I've done so well that she'd like me to take on more responsibility. And then, I was paid to write some articles on top of that. And I drew a cat. Does this sound like less work to you? Me either.
Another thing I resolved I wouldn't do was give up television. That's right. I was going to read less. Given how many books I read in November, 2011 alone, which was three full novels, this wouldn't be difficult at all. Except in January, 2012 I read five complete novels. Yeah, five! And I can't even begin to imagine how many hours the television stayed dark and silent.
So that's how January went, but I still have high hopes of being a total slob through February, especially with Valentine's Day right around the corner. Wish me luck!
In my quest to make less changes to my life in 2012, I bought a fruit-infusion pitcher from Amazon for the sole purpose of doctoring up the wine I received for Christmas. And the first thing I made was...citrus-infused green tea. Then I made...fruit-infused Kool-aid lemonade. Finally for the NFL playoff games, I made a pitcher of sangria. Ten days later and half the pitcher still sits in the back of the fridge, behind the milk and orange juice. I've never had so little to drink in a 30-day period. And the wine? It's still in the fridge, too.
I also planned to work less. Considering that I am an artist who lazily procrastinates on every project that comes my way, this one seemed like a no-fail opportunity. Then, on January 2nd, I was hired to do some online work for a friend's company. And it turns out, I've done so well that she'd like me to take on more responsibility. And then, I was paid to write some articles on top of that. And I drew a cat. Does this sound like less work to you? Me either.
Another thing I resolved I wouldn't do was give up television. That's right. I was going to read less. Given how many books I read in November, 2011 alone, which was three full novels, this wouldn't be difficult at all. Except in January, 2012 I read five complete novels. Yeah, five! And I can't even begin to imagine how many hours the television stayed dark and silent.
So that's how January went, but I still have high hopes of being a total slob through February, especially with Valentine's Day right around the corner. Wish me luck!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)