tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88991123154650784312024-03-12T21:26:00.077-04:00Pathetic is the new BlackI have little, to no experience being anyone but me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.comBlogger206125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-59189435336388862632016-02-12T10:55:00.001-05:002016-02-12T10:55:28.792-05:0040 Days No Make Up <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't posted in 516 days. That's uncool. I don't want to ignore that fact but I also don't want to cling on it too long, so lets move on shall we.<br />
<br />
I've given up makeup for Lent. It seems like a silly, girly thing to do and I'm sure I'll have my haters saying I'm only doing it for this reason or that, but here's the real reason...<br />
<br />
Makeup and I have become very good friends over the years, such good friends in fact that I don't like to leave the house without her. And I kind of have a problem with that. When I look in the mirror sans make up I don't like what I see, and that's a problem for me.<br />
<br />
These next 40 days will be a challenge to myself to be comfortable in my own skin without hiding behind a mask of eyeliner and concealer. I have blotchy red Scottish skin and it's beautiful because it tells the history of the strong line of woman I come from. I have light eyelashes that most likely root from there too. My brown eyes pop with or without eyeliner and yet I don't like what I see without it. And why?<br />
<br />
I could launch into a myriad of reasons that are just excuses, media tells me, my momma told me, my friends told me, but none of those people have been painting my face for 15 + years. I have.<br />
<br />
So this is my challenge to myself, to love my face without makeup. To allow photos of myself to be taken without makeup. To not delete 15 photos because the lighting wasn't right. Lets see what happens. Follow me on the Instagram (@Janice_Lynne) if you'd like to see my selfie per day. I'm excited / nervous / in over my head. But, you know, in a good way...</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-71369468929787164512014-09-16T17:47:00.001-04:002014-09-16T17:47:39.065-04:00Don't Trust The Mirror<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Don't trust the mirror. If there is one thing I've learned over my years of yo-yo dieting, it's that you cannot trust what you see because it's being processed through a brain that already thinks you're fat. <br />
<br />
When I was at my lowest weight, I still "looked" disgusting to myself. And when I yo-yo-ed back up and look back, I see the fitness level that I wish I was still at. (<a href="http://patheticisthenewblack.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-minds-eye.html" target="_blank">Just read this throwback. </a>)<br />
<br />
So when I say don't trust it, I don't mean ignore your eyes when they say those shoes don't match that shirt. Or that when you're all dolled up to go out with your girls, but you don't feel fabulous, you shouldn't try something else on. Change, be comfortable and fabulous, otherwise we all know it'll ruin your night. Am I right Ladies?<br />
<br />
What I'm trying to say is, don't put all your eggs in that one reflective basket. Just like you shouldn't cry over added pounds after a few weeks of weight training. Guess what, it's muscle baby! <br />
<br />
Anyway I digress, back to it ...That moment right before you hop in the shower? The one where you bare all to am empty bathroom and inadvertently catch a glimpse of the bod you've been sporting and you think "eee gads? is that really it?" THAT moment. Do not trust it. It is a liar. A big fat one. <br />
<br />
I'll say it again, those eyes and brain that are seeing your body already think you're fat, so that is what will compute. They wont see the truth. <br />
<br />
Try instead to concentrate on other things that you're doing well right now. For instance, are you eating better? Do you just plain feel better? Are clothes more comfortable? Are you more comfortable in general? I also find that when I'm on the right kick, I <em>need</em> to be active during the day. I set aside the time and find the time instead of dancing around and sitting on my butt watching reruns of whatever happens to be rerunning (and now with Netflix and Amazon Prime - forget it!) I get out and do. You just have to make it habit. <br />
<br />
I have a love / hate relationship with mirrors. That spot on my body that always pops in pictures and mirrors is my belly. Ugh! Why is he always there?! (Oh, yeah, I name my food baby Louis C.K.) I'm working on not caring. Because, here's the thing, no one else does. I'd bet the bank that no one else even notices it. I kind of love the mirror because I'm pretty. There I said it and I don't care who judges me for it. I have enough body image issues that I can be confident in the fact that my face is pretty. F the haters. Oh and my boobs are rockin' too. <br />
<br />
I started working out and eating better at the end of August. I took an after workout selfie then, and another a few days ago. I've already noticed changes... no one else might see them but I do. I'm the only one who gets to see my body every day, so little things pop. And they absolutely make the work that's waiting for me in the upcoming weeks more exciting. Because if those are the changes that have happened in 3 weeks of hard work, imagine what'll happen after 3 months. <br />
<br />
All the while, I keep my eye on that little bastard The Mirror, I know he wants to buy me a drink and then take another girl home. The liar. <br />
<br />
So here's the word... work towards better while not hating now. Because now is kind of awesome too. You're body is capable of amazing things, why dislike it? </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-54040099998115357532014-08-04T17:11:00.002-04:002014-08-04T17:11:27.360-04:00A Letter from a "Chubby" 8 Year Old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear World,<br />
<br />
Could you please stop talking so very much about what people look like & start talking a little bit more about what they are like. Are they kind? Are they considerate? Do they make you laugh? Do they offer a helping hand? Are they very smart? Can they fix a car? A computer? A heart?<br />
<br />
My parents are teaching me a lot of things. They're teaching me to say "please" and "thank you." They're teaching me to share and to think about other people before making choices that could possibly hurt someone. The world is teaching me things too. I'm learning that family can mean many different things, not just the ones you're born with. I'm learning that sometimes people can be mean. I'm learning that we cannot always get the things we want. When I say it like that it sounds like the world is pretty mean & my parents are pretty great. Which I guess is kind of true.<br />
<br />
But both the world & my parents have something in common. They talk, a lot, about how much people weigh. And I don't really understand.<br />
<br />
How does the amount of fat on a person, make them a bad person?<br />
<br />
And I'm sure the same goes for other kids who "look" different.<br />
<br />
While you're at it, could you also stop saying things about other people's physical difference as well. See I hear you when you judge someone because they're 'too fat for that outfit' or 'too tall for that shirt' or 'too cellulite-ey for that skirt.' (whatever that word means) and it makes me worry.<br />
<br />
What about me isn't good enough? It kind of makes me feel like I'm worth less than other children, just because I don't weigh as little as they do. Which isn't a nice feeling.<br />
<br />
When you say those things I lock them away. Like a little girl who overheard her father say that no man could ever find an overweight woman attractive, who turned 30 and still wonders if anyone could find her pretty.<br />
<br />
Just, as an example.<br />
<br />
And I know that when I get older, kids will get meaner, they already tease me. But imagine if their parents did the same thing.. and they never were taught that because I look different from them, they have the right to mean to me? Imagine how awesome that would be?!<br />
<br />
Please just remember that my ears are always listening. That I'm always learning. And I'd love to learn that my personality is more important than my pant size.<br />
<br />
Thanks in advance, I guess. See you in a few years.<br />
<br />
Janice (Age 8)<br />
<br />
Oh & just so you know, I am an active kid, I just won the gene lottery. So before you tell me that it's unhealthy, maybe think of a better (kinder) way to say it. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-89275133524309984892014-03-04T13:42:00.002-05:002014-03-04T13:44:34.929-05:00Just Trying to Find Out "Why?"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I think I've decided to officially change my middle name to Pathetic. Janice Pathetic McCrostie. I think it has a nice ring to it. Thoughts? Concerns?<br />
<br />
The thing is this...<br />
<br />
I think God decided to hold a mirror up for me and I didn't like what I saw.<br />
<br />
I've been lazy about my future. I've been expecting something to fall into my lap. I'm thirty for Christ sake! Grow the fuck up, McCrostie.<br />
<br />
I've just become something weird. Something I'm not sure about.<br />
<br />
I feel like Charlotte Lucas, I'm absolutely a burden on my parents.<br />
<br />
I know I'm lucky and blessed and a bunch of other mushy annoying words, but I'm sure my parents would rather have their space and their money to themselves. My mother has wanted to swim with the dolphins for years, I like to think some day I'll be able to take her. But in order to that, I have to be proactive in my life.<br />
<br />
Why don't I finish one of my novels? Why am having such writers block? What the hell am I so terrified of?<br />
<br />
Failure? If I don't ever try, that's a failure. If I live my life in fleece sheets, that's a failure.<br />
<br />
Life isn't a spectator sport.<br />
<br />
The Oscars were on the other night and I always feel forlorn when I watch them. Somehow I feel like I missed my chance to ever be on that stage. That was my dream. My fucking dream and I just didn't even try.<br />
<br />
And my dream has changed now but my M.O hasn't. I want to be published, produced, READ! And I prefer my PJs? Who does that?<br />
<br />
Who does that?<br />
<br />
Pathetic people that's who.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow, Ash Wednesday, begins the Lentin Season. Tomorrow I'm going to challenge myself.<br />
<br />
For 40 days I have to write every day. Whether it's this blog, or one of my novels. And if it's a novel then I have to post on here, telling you all that's what I did. For 40 days I have to do something for my dream, because why else am I even here?<br />
<br />
"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."<br />
~ Mark Twain ~<br />
<br />
God I hope I stick to this. I hope I can pull myself out of the dregs of patheticism.<br />
<br />
At least if nothing else, I made up a word.<br />
<br />
Please hold me accountable. Please. If you're out there. If you'r reading this. Hello? Is this thing on? I need you. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-37989508236464133332014-02-07T14:51:00.001-05:002014-02-07T14:51:48.842-05:00I Don't Know What to Title This<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just so everyone knows... just so we're clear...<br />
<br />
I don't need to be reminded that my life is a mess. I don't need to be reminded that I'm 30 years old, single, unemployed and living with my parents. I don't need to be reminded that I don't actually know what I want to do with my life.<br />
<br />
I don't need to be reminded that the most productive thing I've done in the last few days is the dishes.<br />
<br />
I want to write and have people read it. I want to make a difference. I want to do something that means something to someone.<br />
<br />
This past week I've fallen into a bit of a slump. I blame the weather 78% and my psyche 22%. Maybe my math is off. But I could feel myself falling victim to the dark side this week. I didn't want to do anything.<br />
<br />
I'm slowly climbing out.<br />
<br />
But for some reason I don't even want to pretend to understand... Valentine's Day is hitting me extra hard this year. It's never phased me one iota, but this year, every commercial makes my chest tight and my eyes water.<br />
<br />
I just really want an edible arrangement this year.<br />
A. it looks delicious.<br />
B. it's the perfect gift because it's chocolate AND fruit. You can't get too angry for falling off your diet.<br />
<br />
Right?<br />
<br />
Anyway. It's dark down here. Which makes working on my own writing frustrating.<br />
<br />
Plus I have this stupid cold. The kind of cold that's a bit debilitating but also you feel like you should be doing stuff. Ya know? Gross.<br />
<br />
So now, here I am, watching my thousandth episode of Bones / Castle / SVU and I can't help but wonder...<br />
<br />
What the hell am I doing? How do you find a job when you don't know what you want to do? Every job that I find in Theatre either does not pay OR is something I don't want to do anymore OR I'm completely unqualified for it OR I'm depressed and the thought of traveling into the city to work sounds like the worst when happy me actually would find it to be the best.<br />
<br />
I don't know.<br />
<br />
I'm just tired. My body and my mind are tired.<br />
<br />
I need to get back to Kickboxing. The weather and my cold have left me kind of... pathetic.<br />
<br />
Huh. Things come full circle sometimes.<br />
<br />
Pathetic really is the New Black.<br />
<br />
And just for the record, my blog came out long before the Netflix series. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-7810387266589118932014-01-21T17:55:00.001-05:002014-01-21T17:55:12.214-05:00The Blessing We Sometimes Curse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
When I was living in Glasgow I was as independent as one can get. I walked places, alone, at night, always a little on my guard, just in case. What I did not do was call my mother whenever I got in at night. But still, when my family came to visit and stayed at a Bed and Breakfast three blocks from my flat, I was asked to call them when I got home. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Now at the time, I rolled my eyes and said "Moooooom" and she still made me do it, knowing how ridiculous it was. And it was all because I was her baby and she <i>knew </i>when I left the B&B so she had to <i>know </i>when I was home safe and sound. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now I've been thinking about this quite a bit lately, the concept of being worried about. I think it's been on my mind a little more lately because I've been laid off and I know that my friends and family worry about me a little. They really shouldn't because I have an amazing support system, like Spider Man's crazy strong webs, support system. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But isn't that just nice? What a blessing, what an unbelievable blessing, that I have people who worry about me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are far too many people out there that don't have a core group of family and friends who genuinely care and henceforth, worry. And it really puts it's all in perspective. I am so unbelievably lucky.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm lucky that people keep asking me how I'm doing and what I am doing and how the job search is and whats new and how's my writing. Sometimes it sounds more like "Do you have your life together, YET?" but what it really is is people caring.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm lucky that there are individuals in my life who's brows furrow whenever they ask about my love life. (SINGLE. Still single.)</div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm lucky that my mother still peaks her head into my room in the AM after a particularly late night, and when I go "whaaaaaat?!?!!?" she responds with "just making sure..."</div>
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<br /></div>
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As infuriating as it can be, I'm lucky that I have a father who is prepared to go to battle with anyone who treats me poorly. Down Daddy, down. </div>
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I'm lucky that I have friends who, for right now, will offer to pick up the tab.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I'm lucky that whenever we're out together and I'm chatting up some stud, my brother stands juuuuust close enough that it gives off the right impression, an impression of "I'm not with this girl, but this girl is important to me, so if you do anything I don't like I will pound you."</div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm lucky to get "when will you be home?" texts. (Even though 9 times out of 10 my plans have already been shared and apparently not remembered!) </div>
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<br /></div>
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So, next time you find yourself rolling your eyes about someone "checking in on you" take a moment, take a breath and remind yourself...</div>
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There are too many people out there who never get a "just checking" text or a phone call "just because" so every single one of them are a blessing. It is a blessing to be worried about.</div>
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Maybe not for the worrier, but that's their problem, not mine :-P</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-82458563647581053662014-01-16T20:02:00.001-05:002014-01-16T20:02:40.207-05:00What Now?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a while since I've posted and a lot has changed. Remember when I said that I seem to write LESS the more pathetic my life actually is, and the irony in all that. Well it's true.<br />
<br />
My life got pretty pathetic over the past 2 months.<br />
<br />
I got laid off from my job and the "official" reason was because I cost more money to keep on the payroll than the other House Manager. But, if I can't be honest on my own damn blog where can I be, I don't really think that's why.<br />
<br />
It's more drama than it's worth to actually get into everything that happened and frankly I really don't want to. But today I had an epiphany. Yes I am between jobs. Yes I'm collecting unemployment. Yes I'm still living at my parents. Yes my car is about to die a quick death, probably on the side of some road without shoulders or in the Wendy's drive through.<br />
<br />
But gosh darn-it I am happy. I'm much happier than I was.<br />
<br />
Losing my job was a blessing in disguise. It was time for me to move on from there and I wouldn't have on my own because I was comfortable. I was comfortable some place that didn't deserve me anyway, so I'm glad.<br />
<br />
What do I have going on now? Well I don't know.<br />
<br />
I'm doing a whole lot of dodging peoples questions about if I've found another job, that takes up about 35% of my day. Another 20% or so is spent working out, then I also keep my room pretty clean. There's the sleeping, that's pretty good. Working on the many writing pieces I've started and left abandoned. Oh, I've also got this awesome blog I've ignored for too long. I've also gotten a job with a few hours per week teaching art for after school programs in my town. I love it. I missed hanging out with kids.<br />
<br />
I've interviewed for a Teaching Artist position at a local theatre and I'm waiting to hear back about that. And if I do get that I'm going to get a part time job somewhere, because that would not leave a whole lot of breathing room for me to get a full time gig at a non profit.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, I'm trying to stay in the non profit margin, maybe even find something at a charity I support. Really, what I'd love to do is work for Garden State Equality or something. But that's neither here nor there, for right now I'm just waiting to hear back about that other job.<br />
<br />
What the hell was that? I guess I'm not as good as I thought at dodging those questions about my job search.<br />
<br />
Anyway, so, I allowed myself a wee break down the other day. Let it go on. Wondered around the house with red eyes and I'm pretty sure a little bit of dinner on my shirt. But as I snuggled down at the end of the day I told myself, I said "self, tomorrow is a new day and you will not be this person tomorrow."<br />
<br />
So I brushed it off, got up, went to church, spent some good times with my family and reorganized my brain.<br />
<br />
So what now? Well now I get to start my next chapter. Whatever the hell that may be. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-12395775363551374442013-11-25T15:54:00.001-05:002013-11-25T15:54:27.505-05:00Catching Fire Review (Spoiler: My Socks Were Rocked)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've given a few days to let get my second viewing in and to process everything. Also, cause I'm a good person, I gave it a few days so that you all can get your Catching Fire fill and I wont be spoiling anything. With that being said, spoiler alert.<br />
<br />
The best way to describe how I feel in my core about this movie is that when I was trying to plan out my pee breaks for my second viewing I couldn't figure out where to take them. Because I wanted to see the whole thing from start to finish with my eyeballs again.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I've decided that the best way to review Catching Fire, is by writing love letters to the cast. In doing so, I think you'll get my feelings on the movie.<br />
<br />
Disclaimer: If I don't mention an actor, it doesn't mean that I don't like them, or hate them, or wish sexually transmitted diseases on them, it just means that their portrayal was everything I had anticipated and have no more to say. So, lay off, Liam Hemsworth was a good Gale, I just don't have anything more to say about it. Sorry I'm not sorry.<br />
<br />
<b>Stanley Tucci</b>, you sexy Italian God. How you manage to still make me want to rip your clothes off with purple hair and ginormous teeth I will never know. Somehow you just built on your fabulousity from the first film, making Caesar even more lovable. Really, he represents everything we should hate about the Capital, specifically the glorification of the games, but somehow we just love him. And you gave me everything I wanted from the books. Especially the moment where his demeanor begins to come unraveled, so subtle, so perfect.<br />
<br />
<b>Woody Harrelson</b>, you're a sneaky mother f***er. You sneak inside my heart, just like Haymitch does, and then you set up your tent and camp out like a Black Friday shopper. Well done sir, well done.<br />
<br />
<b>Elizabeth Bank</b>s, just stop. Stop being the perfect embodiment of everything I love to hate. Stop being Effie Trinket in every way, shape or form. Stop pulling off ridiculous dresses, hair styles and makeup applications with such poise that it makes me think I can wear it to the diner for my church meeting. Stop showing us, with your perfection, that even Effie, born and raised in the Capital, can change and has changed and hurts for what is happening. That Effie has finally seen what the Games do to the other Districts. You do all that, with your few lines of regret. You're brilliant. So just stop, ok, you make it hard for the other's to keep up.<br />
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<b>Jack Quaid</b>, way to die, again. Bravo. Did you have to scare off all those turkeys though? Rude.<br />
<br />
<b>Jena Malone</b>. COME ONNNN!! Come on!! Could you be any luckier? Johanna isn't the easiest character to play, she's got so many layers that she's like an parfait, but good God is she fun! And you nailed the shit out of it. Seriously. Your elevator introduction may be the best thing that ever happened in the history of film, don't tell The Tree of Life or The Life of Pi or any of those other films that exist to be poignant. Your entrance was poignant, because it showed a woman who had taken her power back and knew how to get what she wanted. Most people are terrified of her, so thanks for making her awesome.<br />
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<b>Seneca Crane's Beard</b>, lookin' good buddy! Bravo.<br />
<br />
<b>Sam Claflin </b>when you were cast last year I was excited, but I had a few friends that were a little hesitant and I told them all the same thing. That when casting Finnick it couldn't just be about looks (which, may I say, bravo to mom & dad Claflin) but it had to be about acting ability. And you hit that sh*t out of the park! (Oh, I'm sorry, that's a baseball reference, it means... home run! so basically it means good job) You gave us small moments of Finnick's pain and glimpses into his life that made me so very excited for your performance in Mockingjay. I cannot wait to see all that you'll bring to the movie. Thanks. To you, I say, Thank you.<br />
<br />
<b>Jennifer Lawrence</b> can we just be best friends? I know you have the whole world vying to talk about Thor with you and marathon Firefly over a bucket of popcorn / fried chicken but I really mean it. Also, let just talk about how you bring Katniss to life for me in a way that I never anticipated. Because the novel is written in first person, there are human aspects to Katniss that we miss because she doesn't see them. You do not miss them, you embrace them. You make Katniss more human and more beautiful than I could have dream. So, thanks to you. Call me.<br />
<br />
<b>Josh Hutcherson</b>, listen Josh, I don't know where to start with this. Beside quotes from you about being most excited in life to settle down and have a family, besides the fact that you're a gay rights activist, besides your ballin' sense of humor, you're not too hard to look at either. So since you're like 9 years my junior, could you stop making my body feel things? Then as if real life you isn't awesome enough, you step into Peeta as if he's your favorite pair of jeans. Like the part was made for you. There were times in this film where I actually thought "how is he acting because that was just..." and then the thoughts cut out because you were Peeta. You embodied Peeta in District 11, finally being broken of your Baker's Boy naivety. You broke my heart when Snow announced that Katniss was going back into the arena, and you couldn't get your head around your heartbreak. Little moments. Ugh.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-50867827009596992582013-11-07T12:11:00.003-05:002013-11-07T12:11:52.453-05:00Enjoying The View<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wow. It has been far too long since I posted on this piece. My apologies. I've noticed that the more pathetic my life actually is, the less I actually write on my blog. That, my friends, is a little thing called irony.<br />
<br />
Anyway I had a pretty amazing start to my birthday week. Yup, you heard it here first (or one thousandth, whatever) this upcoming Sunday I turn the big 3-0. I wasn't really having an existential crisis over this big birthday until a few weeks ago, but then I was like "holy sh*tballs I'm going to be a 30 year old who doesn't have their life together one iota." But I quickly realized something else.<br />
<br />
My career and love life may be balls to the walls but I have hit it out of the park as far as the people in my life are concerned. My best friend and my parents are throwing me a birthday party this Saturday night. I get to know when it is, but that's it, so it's kind of a surprise party, which is kind of fun. Friends are coming up from WV and who knows where else, just for my birthday. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I may not have it all together but I'm definitely surrounded by the best people while I try to figure it all out.<br />
<br />
My friend Kari is unable to make it because she's running the Disney Half Marathon this weekend (No Big Deal) so she asked me to come in to her work on Tuesday. Kari's work isn't just any old thang, she works for The View, and this past Tuesday the one and only Kathy Griffin was the guest. I mean, come on. I want to BE her when I grow up! So my mom and I went in and the following is a true account of our supercalafragelisticexpyaladotious morning.<br />
<br />
7:14 AM: Train to NYC.<br />
8:18 AM: Taxi to ABC Studios<br />
8:31 AM: Mom and I befriend a man who was either homeless or an employee for ABC. We may never know.<br />
8:55 AM: We head inside, VIP style.<br />
9:43 AM: Kari comes and collects us from the line, saving us from having to stand near the most obnoxious man in the history of Obnoxia.<br />
9:47 AM: Kari tells me to be cool because we're walking past the dressing rooms.<br />
10:08 AM: Peta Murgatroyd from Dancing with the Stars pops into the green room to grab an apple. Because I follow her on all of the social media, I think we're besties and immediately smile very large and say hi. She leaves. No because I say hi, just because she has sh*t to do. She actually said hi back very nicely before skedaddling. I turned to Kari and ask if that was ok. She says yes. I then get very excited because if Peta is here, that means Brant Dougherty is here, which means that two of the most attractive people on the face of the planet are within yelling distance of myself. I do not yell.<br />
10:45 AM: Kari proclaims it's the to head up to the studio.<br />
10:46 AM: As we are waiting for the elevator Kari says that she was hopeful that Kathy would arrive early so that I could meet her, but no luck. Or luck? The elevator dings and there is the fabulous Ms. Griffin with her entourage who STILL has time to say hi to us. She may have just been being nice, because I'm pretty sure my jaw was on the floor. She's seriously one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. You know I love a ginger.<br />
10:47 AM: Kari asks why I didn't tell her that I loved her, I tell Kari I was trying to "be cool."<br />
10:49 AM: We get some amazing seats. Seriously, we might as well have been sitting with Sherri, Jenny, Barbara and Brad. (Whoopi was out so Brad Garrett was stepping in as co-host. He's a funny bastard).<br />
11:00 AM: The show begins and it's an awesome amazing capital time. (Yes I'm aware that is redundant but it's true.) At some point the hype guy / comedian asks me if I have a question for Kathy, which I'm dumbfounded at because I'm in love with her. So I'm the blubbering idiot who's all "Ummm, errrr... does she need an assistant? Does Tiffany?" He gives me the look that means "I'm not asking her that." so I ask if she'll sign my book and he said he would try.<br />
12:00 PM: The show ends and Kari comes back to pick us up. I felt like a preschooler but a really cool preschooler.<br />
12:04 PM: We hit the elevator. We get out of the elevator. There is Kathy again. We're destined to meet like this, two ships passing in the sea. I tell her I love you. She says thank you. Kari tells her I'm her biggest fan, but alas it was not meant to be as Kath had to get to David Letterman & the elevator doors close. (Yeah, I call her Kath now, we're that close).<br />
12:07 PM: We're back up stairs on the magical floor with the dressing rooms & the green room. I run to the bathroom I see Brant, I see Brad, I see Peta, I see Barbara. I mean basically we're like a pretty small gang now.<br />
12:10 PM: Kari returns with my book, signed by the divine Ms. Griffin. Yes, to me, she is divine.<br />
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<br />
12:11 PM: Birthday week on it's way to being one of the best ever!<br />
12:14 PM: As we leave I hear Barbara Walters asking if anyone knows where her car is. "Wherw is my caw?"<br />
12:16 PM: We get to the elevator to find Brant & Peta waiting patiently. Kari tells them she's bummed they got kicked off. They say they are too. Then I say "I might have cried." and Brant looks right in my eyeballs, directly into my soul & says "I might have cried too." (side note: we might be pregnant). We carried on our chat about how it's to that point in the season where it's no longer talent that keeps people on the show and how disappointing that is.<br />
12:18 PM: Barbra Walters shows up, rockin' a totally amazing coat.<br />
12:20 PM: We ride the elevator with Brant, Peta and Barbra and I try to "be cool" by asking Kari about Bridget's profile picture. Lame party of 1.<br />
12:22 PM: We say goodbye to Kari and thank her for an incredible morning.<br />
12:30 PM: I call my boyfriend Bob and don't take a breath for about 5 minutes while I tell him about my morning. He asks me a work related question. We say goodbye.<br />
1:00 PM: Mom and I get lunch then head back home on the train.<br />
<br />
<br />
I mean, this is an awesome way to start your birthday week. At least I think so. End scene.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-28221398078832205282013-08-21T12:34:00.002-04:002013-08-21T12:34:24.060-04:00This is Why it Bothers me When you Call yourself "Fat"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's come to my attention that people may not understand why it is that "overweight" people get so bent out of shape when someone who is fit, or for all intents and purposes, thin, starts talking about their weight.<br />
<br />
I would like to preempt this by saying that I am well aware that everyone has their own insecurities, everyone is their own worst critic and everyone has their own weight that they are comfortable at. All things I fully understand. But just don't talk about things regarding your weight in front of me.<br />
<br />
Here's why.<br />
<br />
When my thin friends start calling themselves fat, or saying how big their stomach is, or look at a picture of themselves and say 'God I look huge' what I hear is "Janice, you're disgusting."<br />
<br />
I am well aware that this does not make very much sense. Let me try to break it down a little more.<br />
<br />
You don't have 2 kind of big stomach rolls when you sit down, your tummy is pretty much flat.<br />
You don't have to worry about bringing a sweater because your embarrassed by your arm flub.<br />
You can wear shorts.<br />
You can leave a store without trying something on to make sure it fits properly, because it will.<br />
<br />
So when you say that you think that you look gross, I can't help but wonder, I can't help but feel like, you must be completely disgusted by me.<br />
<br />
Logically I know this is my own insecurities, but it's a gut reaction. An automatic reaction. If my skinny, beautiful, can eat whatever she wants friend thinks that she looks bad in that photo, then what must I look like to her? What must I look like to everyone else here? Standing next to this beauty and she looks awful? I must look like the Jaba the Hut!<br />
<br />
I'm not trying to say that anyone's insecurities are more important than others. But if you've never been overweight and had ALL of society judge you because of it, you cannot understand how I feel.<br />
<br />
When I was in middle school we were getting off the bus when a friend asked me what I was doing after school. From behind me, my bully replied "eating." So just because I wasn't super tiny like the rest of the girls in my class, I went home and ate every night. Do you know what I actually did? I played outside with my friends. Rode my bike. Played man hunt. Some kickball. Hop scotch. Jump rope. That's what I did after school. Yet a lot of people assumed that when I went home I buried my face in a bucket of cheese balls. (Nope, that's just once a year at my 4th Day Retreat, thank you very much.)<br />
<br />
I have been doing kickboxing and working out at <i><b>least </b></i>3 times a week for about 9 months now. My father still thinks he would last longer in a class or on a jog than me. Just because I have some extra pounds. He doesn't say this cruelly, and maybe he's just in denial because he'll be knocking on 60 doors in a few years. I don't know, but why would he just assume?<br />
<br />
For the same reason that kids picked on me when I was a kid. And it sticks with you. Maybe that's what it really comes down to...<br />
<br />
When you, who are thin and gorgeous with "normal" body proportions, call yourself fat, it's just another way of picking on me. And you don't even know it. If you really do look fat, God, what must I look like?<br />
<br />
I don't even want to think about it. I might resort to eating every day after work.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-75797423150307572562013-08-19T14:07:00.001-04:002013-08-19T14:07:34.772-04:00Alone Time: Naked<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Literally.<br />
<br />
Everyone should spend some time with themselves, alone and naked. Not masterbating. Well, not masterbating for at least the first half of the time. Sometimes it's hard because you are so very sexy.<br />
<br />
Here is why I believe that every human being, specifically female human beings, even more specifically female human beings with any type of body image issues, should spend some time alone with their nude form:<br />
<br />
Because it's beautiful. Yup, your body, with all the imperfections that you see has some beautiful things going on there.<br />
<br />
This past week I had the house to myself which usually leads to a few things. One of those things is no pants day, another is peeing with the door open and yet another thing is that I do a lot more shit naked. Don't worry, curtains and blinds were always pulled.<br />
<br />
But the more time I spent with myself naked, the more I actually enjoyed my body. Food baby and all. There are parts to my bode that are super sexy! Like the dimples on the bottom of my back. Or the place where my legs meet my butt. They're like "hey Butt, you're looking good! you been working out?"<br />
<br />
And my butts like "Not too much, but we're getting back into it now. I can tell by that little dip in you, Thigh, that you've definitely been workin' it lately!"<br />
<br />
See, doesn't that feel good? To look at your body and see all the amazing parts of it instead of the things that you hate? Trust me it does. It actually leads you to a place called Confidence. It's a pretty cool place to hang out, you should go there sometimes. It's good for the soul.<br />
<br />
On a more serious note, checking out and becoming familiar with your body is important for health purposes. That way if anything ever feels or looks wonky you can nip it in the bud right away. And that can't be a bad thing.<br />
<br />
The more comfortable you get with your naked body, the more comfortable you'll be with other people being around it. So, there's that. Lights don't always need to be out for sexy time. In fact, sometimes it's more fun if they're not. Browchicabrowncow!!!<br />
<br />
So that's my little motivational blurb for the day. Take it or leave it. But you probably want to take it. Because after being alone with your sexy naked self, everything feels better. There's a peace. If that makes any sense. Give it a shot. And yes, be near a mirror. That's the whole point, silly! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-82571332853286031452013-06-22T17:15:00.000-04:002013-06-22T17:15:08.937-04:00I May Have had a Worse Week Than You, Click & See<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Unless you cleaned up human fecal matter last night, I win.<br />
<br />
Yeah I don't think I even need to go over the other crappy parts of my week. I'm pretty sure I win with cleaning up adult diarrhea.<br />
<br />
I kind of knew it was coming. It happens at least once a season. Our patrons are all on the tail end of the life spectrum. So some of them have issues. And I feel for them. I really do. That must be awful. I'm not sure if I'll leave the house if I ever get to the point where I can't hold my shit in my butt anymore.<br />
<br />
But damn. Damn. I do not get paid enough to clean up someone's poop. I'm sorry. That's just the plain and simple truth of the matter. Even the person's who's job it is to clean this space does not get paid enough to clean up human fecal matter.<br />
<br />
Especially when, apparently, this individual felt an "attack" coming on and ran down the stairs to the bathroom, leaving a trail behind.<br />
<br />
Yes. You read that correctly.<br />
<br />
I could follow the poop crumbs to the bathroom stall where I was completely traumatized. I babysit children, I've wiped a lot of butts, but this was traumatic. I may need to go to meetings. Poop Cleaners Anonymous.<br />
<br />
The volunteers offered to help. But they were all interns and apprentices and I could only imagine how well that would go over with the parents who paid for this program. "So I paid $$$ for this program and you're cleaning up shit? Sue sue sue sue sue!"<br />
<br />
So here I am, gloves, bleach spray, paper towels and garbage bag. Cleaning up human poop. Following trail, picking little pellets off the carpet. Scrubbing it out of the carpet in places.<br />
<br />
When I worked for JBJ I had to scrub child pizza vomit out of carpet.<br />
<br />
This. Was. Worse. I literally went catatonic at one point. Just staring. As the information was leaving the mouth of the volunteer, traveling through the air and entering my ears that someone had exploded in the men's room, my brain turned off.<br />
<br />
Please don't think that I don't have sympathy for this man, who left the theatre in embarrassment, apologizing for what happened. I do. That must be humiliating. And I get not wanting to stick around when you are unable to help clean it up.<br />
<br />
But what is truly humbling, is cleaning up that mess. And the truth is, I don't need to be humbled.<br />
<br />
I know what I am. I know where my life is at. I get it. My blog isn't named Fabulous is the New Black. Not yet anyway.<br />
<br />
I gotta do something. I gotta get out. I just want to go.<br />
<br />
go.<br />
go. go.<br />
<br />
go.<br />
<br />
away.<br />
<br />
I think the summer does that to me. The summer and cleaning up human excrement.<br />
<br />
<br />
Cowboy take me away.<br />
Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue...</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-4675327189617037562013-06-20T15:01:00.001-04:002013-06-20T15:01:37.976-04:00New Gyms are like New Relationships, only better.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today I finally had a good great excellent amazing sign me up for more day at my new gym. I changed gyms not because my old gym and I had a falling out or anything, but just like with any relationship, my new gym had so much more to offer me and for only $10 bucks more per month.<br />
<br />
So far this month I've only used the machines in the big work out room. But today I said, "Janice, you're going to use one of the reason you changed gyms today. So either Zumba at 9:30 AM or the pool. Make a choice." And since I didn't get home form work until midnight last night, I opted for the non alarm setting option.<br />
<br />
It was awesome. I did 15 laps, which is kind of ballin' since I haven't been in a pool for physical fitness purposes since Glasgow. Then I literally took 5 minutes deciding whether or not I wanted to climb out of the pool.<br />
<br />
Some back story: I've never been able to climb out of pool gracefully like the other kids.<br />
<br />
Ok, not a huge "story" there per say but there it is. When I tried back when I was a kid I could never ever do it and not look like a total tub. There were times I tried and either failed or times when (and I still have these horrific images of this happening) my friends would push me out of the pool by shoving my butt. Ugh. That's a life flashbacks I never needed to have.<br />
<br />
So here I am, 29 years old, standing in the shallow end of the pool, deciding whether or not I want to potentially make a fool out of myself in front of a mother, her two children, 2 girls who teach swim lessons, one woman who was doing laps and was in no way paying any attention to me and the life guard. Literally. 5 minutes of me sitting there, playing with grate at the edge of the pool.<br />
<br />
Finally I just went for it. And I did it. 13 year old Janice pats you on the back 29 year old Janice. Bravo.<br />
<br />
Next goal? Do 30 consecutive laps & climb out of the pool on the deep end. Here we go.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-85326147112040589172013-06-17T14:14:00.000-04:002013-06-17T14:14:05.592-04:00I Guess I'm Not So Boring After All<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had big plans today. HUGE! Those plans included, but were not limited to, staying in bed and watching movies all day and then at some point cleaning the golf club.<br />
<br />
But I wake up to a beautiful day and suddenly that's not an option! What is wrong with me? Why can't I just let myself have a nice lazy day?<br />
<br />
Suddenly my day has transferred into cleaning my room, possibly painting a shelf, getting to the golf club, maybe going shoe shopping annnnnd working out.<br />
<br />
Now I'm not saying that it's a bad thing that I don't have it in me to sit still. I'm just saying it's weird. It's very unlike me. It's... freakay.<br />
<br />
I guess it's really not THAT unlike me. I mean the only times I really am OK with not moving off my bed is when I'm hungover. And since I'm not that I find it difficult to stay still. Oh yeah and I'm off the alcohol right now until camping at the end of the month. It's just for the best.<br />
<br />
Ugh. I guess not being lazy is not something to complain about. Maybe I'm just searching for something to blog about. It has been a while since I've written anything.<br />
<br />
Catch up?<br />
<br />
The season opened at the theatre.<br />
Gregor came to visit and it was awesome. It's just nice to catch up like no time has passed.<br />
Because Gregor came this week was cray at work.<br />
I tried a 7 day Shakeology challenge week where you replace one meal a day with a shake and eat healthy the other three meals. If it was just that I would have done lovely but I also wasn't allowed to coffee. COFFEE!!! Or any type of caffeine. I lasted 2 days. Turns out it's an addiction. Who knew?<br />
<br />
Nothing else is super new. I'm rather boring. And right now, I'm ok with that...<br />
<br />
As I was typing how boring I am, I was watching that MTV show Girl Code and they were discussing the lady doctor. I literally slammed my computer shut, leaped out of bed & screamed "I HAVE A DOCTORS APPOINTMENT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!" I threw some pants on, grabbed a sports bra, gave myself a baby wipe shower & peaced!<br />
<br />
I was there within 15 minutes, trying to play it cooooool. I'm sorry I'm late I've been running errands all morning... why no I didn't just get out of bed. That's cRaaaaaaZY!<br />
<br />
I guess I'm not so boring after all.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-8857004083848423422013-05-31T22:08:00.001-04:002013-05-31T22:08:39.702-04:00Body Image is for the Birds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am slowly (very slowly some may say) realizing something things. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you follow my blog on a regular bases you're probably about to go "DUH! Ya IDIOT!" but I'm still getting there...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My body is beautiful. Period. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There's no "but I have roles when I sit." or "look at this muffin top." or "but my arms do this wiggly thing."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My body is beautiful.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There should not be a stigma on weight. Ever. There are some people in this world who are over weight and that it affects their life and they are unhappy. Those people, in order to get happier, need to reevaluate. But that's not for me to decide. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am on a mission to get fitter and stronger and healthier. But I've said it before & I'll say it again...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I will NOT starve myself any longer. I refuse. I will not count calories or stare longingly at a cookie from across the room (I love you.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This did not make me happier. This did not improve my life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes when I was very fit at the end of last summer I enjoyed the attention. I liked being told how good I looked. But beyond that, I was starving! Oh sweet baby Jesus was I hungry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't want to have to put myself through that ever again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I will eat according to me. Some days that will be a delicious salad. Some days a delicious burger. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I will also always be active. I will not be happy if I get heavier than I am now. And if I continue my free range diet without working out, than I will not be happier. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are a few things lately that have been leading up to this. Tonight <a href="http://www.themilitantbaker.com/2013/03/things-no-one-will-tell-fat-girls-so-i.html" target="_blank">this</a> blog has really opened my eyes. I've always thought that I was single for 2 reasons:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Because I was picky.</div>
<div>
2. Because I like a hottie & "hotties don't like fat girls." At least that's what I told myself.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
sad. sad. sad.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How could anyone else want to have sex with me if I didn't even want to have sex with me? I gotta work on that.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm slowly digging through the roots of all my awful body image & I think I've found it's source. I wont share it because it could be hurtful to someone I care about, but now that I know that the things this person projected on me were only their own issues and really had nothing to do with me, I'll be able to work more on me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You're probably so over me talking about this. I am too. Let's talk about something else...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm still kickboxing and I just joined Golds Gym. Breaking up with Planet Fitness was hard but there were minimal tears. Maybe that's because I didn't do it on time & he was able to snag a final $39.99 in yearly fees out of me. Wee devil. But my new gym is just $10 more and they have classes and a pool. I am simply ready to concentrate on myself and my fitness. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I guess that really wasn't a change of subject was it. Any who how. Is there anyone even out there reading this? Or are you all out on the town living the dream. Lucky. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-27787179641786038952013-05-19T20:25:00.000-04:002013-05-19T20:25:02.202-04:00I'm a Little Drunk Right Now But...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This weekend was extremely successful. I have removed 2 garbage bags full of clothing that I haven't worn in foreverscape and cleaned out some other random stuff. I haven't vacuumed my room yet, but hey listen, we aren't all perfect. It was extremely therapeutic.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking a bit about about something my friend said regarding my getting over of He Who Must Not Be Named. It's been a ridiculous road. Because I definitely took longer than the normal lady to get over him.<br />
<br />
But the person who sad this to me has a remarkable record of finding someone else shortly after breaking up with their last lover. And I'm not saying that's good or bad, I'm just saying it it's a proven record in their personal history.<br />
<br />
So I've just been wonder about that. What is the right amount of time to get over someone? How long does it take?<br />
<br />
Because for me it took months. I am well aware how long it took me. And thank you to all my friends who put up with that because it was gross.<br />
<br />
I guess I've logic-ed it down to it just being that each person is different. But how can that be. I've had friends who have gotten over someone in a matter of weeks but it takes me months? That just doesn't seem entirely right. But I guess I'm just looking for an opinion.<br />
<br />
Opinions out there! Hello! Cause I can't figure it out. Why am I such a hot attached mess while my friends are moving on with their lives? Thoughts? Concerns? Comments? ...Help?<br />
<br />
In other news.<br />
<br />
Tequila. Who new?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-64286099213546705632013-05-15T17:27:00.000-04:002013-07-26T12:59:42.623-04:00I Have a Confession to Make<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My plans for this weekend are outrageous. You're probably going to be jealous. So hold on to your fanny packs...<br />
<br />
These are my big, huge, monumental, totally exciting plans:<br />
(and the funny thing is I mean every word of that.)<br />
<br />
Friday night I have awesome plans that include but are not limited to the following.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I'm going to hit up the gym on the way home, finally get back into The Host (side note: I don't know how the same woman that wrote Twilight wrote this book because shits good!)</li>
<li>Then I'm going to get home, sing some Disney songs in the shower, throw some clothes in the laundry and climb into bed. Where...</li>
<li> I will watch Silver Linings Playbook, possibly followed by Gangster Squad (which I bought without ever seeing because the chemistry between Emma & Ryan is something that cannot be denied even if you think the movie is bad. I want them in every movie ever made by any person, take note Hollywood. Yes put them into The Grinch. While you're at it, I think they were missing from Lincoln. Also they should voice the next Disney & Pixar couple, STAT!)</li>
</ul>
<div>
Saturday will be a fun day of spring cleaning, mixed it with some more intense relaxing if I can find the time.</div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Time to do the Big Clothing Exchange from Winter to Summer wear!!! (I feel like The Price is Right theme should be playing there) I will also be doing "the purge" of those items that I do not wear. I would say that's roughly 78% of the items in my wardrobe. Can I please get some prayers that when I go through my clothes that I really purge them. Instead of holding it up and going "Oh gee, I dunno, what if?" God I'm so lame.</li>
<li>EthanRayne (my Ford Escape) desperately needs a bath. I know the pollen will probably just attack again, but her insides are gross as well and if I'm going to do the insides that I might as well do the outsides. Ok lets be honest, this may be a job for professionals. I may end up taking her to the car wash. (If "WORKING AT THE CARWASH! WOO OOO WOO OOO WOOO YEAH!!!" did not immediately pop into your head, than welcome my youthful reader!)</li>
<li>I then will give myself a pedicure. Maybe take a bath to round out the experience. I bought a groupon for a bunch of spa-like stuff and could just do that but I've come to the realization that if I leave my house on Saturday before the above tasks has been concluded they may never get done. </li>
<li>At some point in this day I may catch a movie with with my faithful friend Bridget but as stated above, I am slightly worried that if I leave at all I will not complete any of the above tasks.</li>
<li>Finally, I intend on finishing or at least making some headway further into The Host. I'm really enjoying it but I literally put it down over a month ago, halfway through and haven't had time to pick it up. Hey, there's been a lot of good TV happening.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Sunday is a little up in the air, here are two solid happenings.</div>
</div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Church in the AM.</li>
<li>Emily's Birthday Tea in the afternoon. </li>
<li>Beyond that I'm pretty open to reading and maybe catching up on Revolution (which I've been the worst fan of... sorry!)</li>
</ul>
<div>
I'm sure the majority of you read that and thought "Damn that is a productive weekend, how does this girl not have anything to do, how LAME is this HO?!" and I can honestly tell you this is the very first weekend that I have had NOTHING on the agenda beyond figuring out my life and spring cleaning. Ok, I may be exaggerating the "figuring out my life" notion. Really? ha. how boring would that be. To know what's next? How ridiculous... sigh. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I really am excited for this weekend of nothing to do but stuff around the house. I need it. Like need it, need it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh and I'm going to sleep the shit out of my bed. Like sleep in all the way to 9 AM. Maybe 10 AM if I'm feeling really crazy. Woah. Get off the party train, wouldya? </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-31090031685768895542013-05-14T15:53:00.002-04:002013-05-14T15:53:10.768-04:00Prayers & Self Control<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lately I've realized that my self control is running on empty. If I want a cookie, I eat a cookie. And I fricken LOOOOVE that cookie. I need to fill this tank up, stat.<br />
<br />
I think that all goes hand in hand with where I am emotionally in my life and something has kind of come to mind. When I feel like my life is spiralling out of control I do much better with my working out and my eating. This is because I know this is the one thing I can control. I can control what I eat and I can control when I work out.<br />
<br />
But that knowledge does not help me when I'm happy with life. So frustrating. I know what I need to do but I just need to do it. So. Gross.<br />
<br />
In other news, I've been meaning to start doing one post a week as a prayer. Kind of checking in with the Big Man all while letting you all in on the craziness that is my mind. You lucky ducks. I thought Sunday would be a good day but I'm usually busy on Sundays. Then thought "Monday, perfect way to shove off into a new week. Ahoy mateeees!" but then I kept forgetting to do it on Monday too. Anyway I've decided to just kick off today's post with a little something something to my Best Friend upstairs.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">God, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How's it going? Ehh I'm alright. Less about me, more about you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess I just want to thank you for everything I have going on. My family is all healthy, my friends are all healthy (for the most part. I mean some are kind of questionable mentally, but physically they're right as rain), I have a job that most days I love. So. Thanks, that's awesome. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hope things up there are going ok. I hope that those new members of your team are settling in alright. We've had kind of a rough year for the news worthy deaths, so although in my personal life things haven't been too wretched, I like to keep everyone in my prayers. Give them all a high five for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess that's it for today. I don't want to forget to thank you for things, so if I do let me know cause that's rude. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As always please guide me where you need me to go. Cause sometimes I'm super unsure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Keep it real. Chat soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Later,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Janice</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh! Can you help me with the self control thing cause that is out of control!!!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-40019187105427523392013-05-13T21:15:00.001-04:002013-05-13T21:15:43.051-04:002 Things My Body Decided Today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My body has suddenly decided 2 things.<br />
<br />
Number 1: that today was for pastries.<br />
<br />
Or maybe Bob decided that when he brought left over Mother's Day goodies in.<br />
<br />
The rest of my meals were semi healthy and kind on track. But the 2 danishes were not. And the no work outs were not. I think I need a smack in my head. Any takers?<br />
<br />
Number 2: that pollen and it are no longer friends.<br />
<br />
They'll no longer get together for coffee. Or to go see the new hit movie that's out. And they definitely will not be grabbing drinks later.<br />
<br />
I seriously hate it. Time to get Clariton Clear. Like, yesterday. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-23270785473793236122013-05-10T10:00:00.000-04:002013-05-10T10:00:11.181-04:00The Mind's Eye<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't like how I see myself. I mean everyone has something that when they look at a photo of themselves thinks "eeee gads!" but I just think it's really sad that I see pictures of myself and think "holy mother of arms that are big and flabby!"<br />
<br />
It's just kind of sad that I think that. Especially since my arms are not that big and flabby, in real time.<br />
<br />
This got me thinking about how many times in my life that I have been fit (not "skinny") but healthy and strong and at that time I still thought of myself as a huge gigantic mess. For an example, back in September 2012, right after Bridget's wedding when I looked a picture like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_rGsqPa7kPllZT-lVg4QUtsH7hVzIkJMx6GtoChyphenhyphenz6ysCy5D27Yiz8oKLQJk8KO90zEOWeSQGbd6J5u1EOY9bi5gjQBUCZjrndIkA32q8bdpJgzFqER1jAWm9tZaS0i1HzNTVvtwjwkE/s1600/185006_3368798990407_643983117_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_rGsqPa7kPllZT-lVg4QUtsH7hVzIkJMx6GtoChyphenhyphenz6ysCy5D27Yiz8oKLQJk8KO90zEOWeSQGbd6J5u1EOY9bi5gjQBUCZjrndIkA32q8bdpJgzFqER1jAWm9tZaS0i1HzNTVvtwjwkE/s320/185006_3368798990407_643983117_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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What I saw was this: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRR-HXHp_yRKns88m98Mp5tct1rYb1acAfBhE33kqOr43lTavtE2xWdlFrDHOuSJfA6pH8lnK31cpsOCBOrp0jNaTl1AzDGJw1EysKvB8WNesRqCBA9WlHLW7kVTycUaERwvVcfYE3utl/s1600/6a00d83550962569e20148c718cf97970c-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRR-HXHp_yRKns88m98Mp5tct1rYb1acAfBhE33kqOr43lTavtE2xWdlFrDHOuSJfA6pH8lnK31cpsOCBOrp0jNaTl1AzDGJw1EysKvB8WNesRqCBA9WlHLW7kVTycUaERwvVcfYE3utl/s320/6a00d83550962569e20148c718cf97970c-800wi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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When I looked at pictures like this:</div>
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<br /></div>
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+</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9ubd_Ciz-M7ceN1rBR4tFgSRG9sRHMXSfJMV9UMtND1sMf7Z8CM0FYvSK8kiQELtV33WToY1KEOg1WHPEZndIKQ_Fgrr_wGv1NRBtEO7XXepaDO47IMoyOobHh6Opzycfc1htLHm-ydo/s1600/283680_581901040367_2029006156_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9ubd_Ciz-M7ceN1rBR4tFgSRG9sRHMXSfJMV9UMtND1sMf7Z8CM0FYvSK8kiQELtV33WToY1KEOg1WHPEZndIKQ_Fgrr_wGv1NRBtEO7XXepaDO47IMoyOobHh6Opzycfc1htLHm-ydo/s320/283680_581901040367_2029006156_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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All I saw was this: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAMY6MJd1tYfKvrrrRhdiHs0U94TlHyKFn_0ITEt5sXBuzKah08evPdmAf2-FfbyiVaFHnV9Ym9V-ubvgZivk91H6TbSdkWoajjn0GLa7_tm1_6cN7f7MN6au0nJGkxKOHlc8uR-FgqVh/s1600/54513_1203781749537_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAMY6MJd1tYfKvrrrRhdiHs0U94TlHyKFn_0ITEt5sXBuzKah08evPdmAf2-FfbyiVaFHnV9Ym9V-ubvgZivk91H6TbSdkWoajjn0GLa7_tm1_6cN7f7MN6au0nJGkxKOHlc8uR-FgqVh/s320/54513_1203781749537_full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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Double fisting of champagne aside, those first photos look nothing like those second photos. But in my mind they do. Which is crazy. THAT'S CRAZY!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
How do we get there? At which point in our existence do we stop seeing ourselves as what we really look like?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The photo that really brought all of this to mind has a bunch of people in it from my acting class and in my mind, my arms look like a linebackers. Really, I'm pretty sure I could take out Michael Strahan. And somewhere in the confines of my mind I know this is untrue. I know that my arms are not the size of Vin Diesel's. But why is that how I see it?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I honestly don't have an answer for this one. And after a Monday & Tuesday of really locking up my eating habits, I fell horribly victim to a flash storm and flood and was cold and wet and the salads just would not do. So yeah, I ordered chinese. And now I feel like an ass because I need to lock up my self control. Then I saw the picture mentioned above and felt even worse. </div>
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<br /></div>
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There isn't even something that I remember from once upon a time when someone said something to me about my arms being flabby and big. It just crept into my brain one day and made itself at home. I just wish I could fix it. I wish I (and everyone else!) could see myself the way that the rest of the world sees me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Right now I've gain the weight back that I lost for the wedding. Even more so because a lot of the work I had done was weight training work so all that muscle turned into flub. And the knowledge that I did it once, I can do again is in my brain, I just have to get back to that. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But there are some things I have going for me. Yesterday at kickboxing I felt strong while holding the plank and pushup position. I felt like I could have stayed up there longer. Last weekend I ran proooooobably at least maybe 2 out of 3 miles in a 5K. I'm not completely out of shape, just not where I really want and hope to be. It's the tiny victories.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The thing that makes me most upset is knowing that their are young girls out there thinking the exact same thing as me. And they don't realize yet that they are enough, "huge" arms aside.</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-43376718962404135572013-05-08T12:20:00.003-04:002013-05-08T13:24:07.424-04:00What the actual f***?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://elitedaily.com/news/world/abercrombie-fitch-ceo-explains-why-he-hates-fat-chicks/" target="_blank">THIS</a> actually causes my gag reflex to start working over time. Like, the back of my throat feels gross and my stomach is upset.<br />
<br />
This is what is wrong with our world and our society. Ugh. I can't even complete a whole sentence. My mind is literally running a thousand miles a minutes. How do people in this world still think like this? How do people still think this is ok?<br />
<br />
Every single person in this universe, even the total douche buckets, are unique, special and beautiful in some sort of way. Essentially what A&F is saying is that, your weight defines who you are.<br />
<br />
It doesn't.<br />
<br />
A scale will never tell me how funny I am.<br />
A scale will never tell me how compassionate I am.<br />
A scale will never tell me if I'm helpful.<br />
A size XL (which I bought the other day, FYI) does not tell me how well I do my job.<br />
A size XL will never inform me as to whether or not I am a good person.<br />
<br />
What makes A&F think that they should pass judgement on who I am, just because sometimes I have to purchase a size XL instead of a Large.<br />
<br />
Further, just so we're on the same page Abercrombie and Fitch, your L is more of an S. You smug asshat.<br />
<br />
Wanting to market to "the cool kids" is the most high school response I've ever heard and I spent the last two days with Middle and High Schoolers. Somebody had no friends growing up and I think his name is Mike Jeffries.<br />
<br />
Please people, for the love of your daughters, nieces and friends, for all the young impressionable minds out there, show Abercrombie and Fitch that you'll take your business elsewhere. Even if that makes you "uncool."<br />
<br />
And yes I plan on burning the ONE A&F shirt that I own. It's a Large. And I used to wear the shit out of it. Tarnishing your brand because I am one dorky little bitch.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmN4gVXBPq__-edlf2HRIMmFyQQOL3CqCZaOmMchztWEhax4SYtcm2baKjzqX4b_qIDfWL4sM3dYjOuTUoR0v8-Ia9DkMAzwDLDgsqzb5mpL7BrXN1CKntVAgaGfIOZZn3WNYQ2Mib7e8/s1600/ANF_LOGOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmN4gVXBPq__-edlf2HRIMmFyQQOL3CqCZaOmMchztWEhax4SYtcm2baKjzqX4b_qIDfWL4sM3dYjOuTUoR0v8-Ia9DkMAzwDLDgsqzb5mpL7BrXN1CKntVAgaGfIOZZn3WNYQ2Mib7e8/s320/ANF_LOGOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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YOU SUCK!</div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-67395688500559433512013-04-24T18:26:00.003-04:002013-07-26T13:02:57.650-04:00Breakdown in the Produce Aisle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You know what's not a good look on me? Desperation. It's rare. But that ugly bitch rears her disgusting head every once in while. And on Sunday, I was desperate.<br />
<br />
For some wine.<br />
<br />
So when the numerous glasses of champagne I indulged in at a bridal shower earlier in the day did not quench my alcohol lust, I decided to make a run. And since we had no food in the house and I had high hopes for a week of healthy eating, I figured I would pop by the grocery store as well. At that, my mom offered me her card to get some stuff that the whole family would need.<br />
<br />
So I get there. I even call my mom to say "Hey. What's the _____ sitch? Should I get some more?" and tell her that I'm going to put it on my card. We both realized at this point that she had forgotten to give me her's.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, in the produce aisle, the grocery store is mocking me. There are literally couples everywhere. It's date night at the deli counter.<br />
<br />
"Oh honey, what kind of turkey should we get?"<br />
"Silly, I hate munster cheese!"<br />
"Should we get some more lettuce?"<br />
"What should we have on Tuesday!"<br />
"Oh you!!!"<br />
<br />
I even witnessed a bit of a tiff regarding the type of veggies one couple was purchasing. Yes, pre-cut celery is a ripoff Sir, I agree with you!<br />
<br />
Anyway so I get to the check out counter, ring up my load and realize that I do not have my card on me. All I have is $27 and big dreams. I had to do the good ole "can you put that back." beep. "and this." beep. "this too."<br />
<br />
Until I had enough money. How embarrassing. And I don't embarrass easily.<br />
<br />
When I got home, miffed and STILL without wine. I took it out the fridge (the mayo is still stuck to the cap of the jar from when an entire shelf fell mercilessly to the floor, when I may or may not have shoved the door a little too harshly).<br />
<br />
Once the mayo rolled away (along with a couple of salad dressings now properly shaken), I dissolved into tears, took off my pants and climbed into my bed. Where I proceeded to work it all out on my pillow.<br />
<br />
Eventually my mom came in and pointed out to me that none of this has anything to do with my lack of wine or my embarrassment at the check out counter and all to do with my discomfort in how comfortable I am.<br />
<br />
And she's right.<br />
<br />
She reminded me of when I was 26 years old at a job that could have held a bright future for me. A job that if I had stayed at would have paid off my loans by now and I would definitely not be living with mom and pop. A job that I had started to hate.<br />
<br />
So, in her eyes, I did the bravest thing she could imagine... I moved to Scotland and went back to school.<br />
<br />
My mom asked me where that girl went.<br />
<br />
And she couldn't be more right. Where did that girl go? Because I like my job, but I'm comfortable. It's time for a change. It's time for something.<br />
<br />
Which is hard because I genuinely love The Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey and I am proud to work for this company and be affiliated with the theatre we create. But it's not enough for my soul.<br />
<br />
Because working here does not challenge me. And I'm most comfortable when I'm uncomfortable. Which is something I never recognized until these past few days.<br />
<br />
So because I love these people I'm not going to disappear on them, but it's time to revamp this life of mine.<br />
<br />
Starting with my bod. I've eaten better in these last 2 days than I have in a while and I'm staying active every day. The next step is to copyright 2 of my plays and start submitting them. The third is to work on some of my novels. I have like 5 started just hanging out in my computer like "yo, Janice? Are we even friends anymore? You don't call, you don't write?" LITERALLY.<br />
<br />
So I didn't actually breakdown in the produce aisle. I did wait until I was in the privacy of my own kitchen, give me that. It may have made for a better blog post, but really people... throw me a frickin' bone here.<br />
<br />
Ok I have to go practice drawing a sword for the scene I have to perform in 2 hours. So, yeah not with a pencil, like from my hip. Like a Knight or some shit. This should end well...<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-86607575852723657522013-04-18T15:58:00.001-04:002013-04-18T15:58:36.395-04:00Oh Hey. Look.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I may be pushed to the edge this week. I hate it. With work, I've been in until super late all week, plus my parents are away so I have to dog & the house to take care of. I'm just beat.<br />
<br />
I know... somebody call a WAMBULANCE! But I'm just exhausted.<br />
<br />
The worst of it all is over the past weeks I've noticed that I've gained ALL my pre Bridget's wedding weight back. I know. Sad Day USA.<br />
<br />
I've lost, RIP, three pairs of jeans over the past few weeks. I have no money to buy new ones. I finally stitched up a pair with a crazy hole only for those jeans to lose their life via zipper popping not an hour later.<br />
<br />
This week at work is crazypants and I should be watching my food intake but it's hard. When you have 0 food at home, 0 time to go shopping and 0 money to go food shopping with. So yes, this week has been a beautiful mess of frozen pizza, chicken fingers and Burger King. That's right! On the day I lost another pair of jeans, I ate Burger King! SUCK IT!!!<br />
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And right now, it this moment I just finished a Qudoba burrito.<br />
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Next week. Next week I'm back in action. I swear. Gotta get this body beach ready.<br />
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Ugh-ness.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-71872111678238958882013-04-01T15:52:00.001-04:002013-04-01T15:52:11.425-04:00Out Like a Lamb.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a while. Life got awesome and then it got mucky so I took a hiatus.<br />
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Last weekend I took a trip down to WV to visit my friends. It's all so strange to me now. It was so amazing a great to see everyone but it left me so sad. I had this whole realization that I will just always be missing this people. If I moved down there I would miss everyone from home. So there's no win/win for me. It's exhausting. Worst/Best decision I even made was to go to school so far away.<br />
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I mean really no matter which way I slice in I'm missing someone. At some point in my day I think of someone from one of the many places I've lived and think "damn, I miss them." It's the worst/best.<br />
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In the end I'm really glad I went because I got to meet a bunch of babies, hang out with woman I love and admire and see the beautiful state that I love.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFj0I4hL2IHjPQONqsG42ByEDvaKmIHwKTclZMiTrOv6O9Ct2U38kktlNi6z-ugw_ym-b_L0OnCHPHexOQHvaXSC4FsnTjfD16uISO9HJYOVmi4BxhdnX_mnIlMDe35hYN4pSnrdOBG2o/s1600/wv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFj0I4hL2IHjPQONqsG42ByEDvaKmIHwKTclZMiTrOv6O9Ct2U38kktlNi6z-ugw_ym-b_L0OnCHPHexOQHvaXSC4FsnTjfD16uISO9HJYOVmi4BxhdnX_mnIlMDe35hYN4pSnrdOBG2o/s320/wv.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In case you're wondering...<br />
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I came home to the super crappy news that a friend from high school passed away. It's just the worst. I'll never get over losing people from my childhood. There's no reason they should be gone and I should still be here. It just really hurts. And I hurt for my friends who were still close with the individual because I cannot even imagine what they're going through.<br />
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And then within the same day I found out that my other friends beautiful baby was born. So last week was an emotional roller coaster to say the very least.<br />
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But so that's my little catch up. I joined another dating site until I realized I had to pay for it and then I deleted my account. AGAIN. Maybe I'll hop back on the OKstupid again to see what's up. I'm not even interested in dating I think I'm just bored. UGH!<br />
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Oh, happy Jesus is BAAACK day. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899112315465078431.post-61026883090121625032013-03-19T14:17:00.001-04:002013-03-19T14:17:21.837-04:00Ain' t That the Truth?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've realized there are so many things that I have to do for myself that if I wasn't single I'm pretty sure there'd be someone around to help me with, if not do them for me. I'm not saying that women in relationships don't do these things for themselves, but I just HAVE to do them for myself. Does that make sense? Because I have to do all these things I'm stronger. Because I don't have the option of not doing them.<br />
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Like shoveling snow. I'm so over it. Put a pair of glasses on my face, a scarf around my neck and obscure band on my iPod because I AM OVER IT! The driveway at our house is super steep and EthanRayne (my lovely non 4 wheel drive vehicle) can't do even the slightest of hills in the snow. So I get home. I shovel myself in. This morning. I shovel myself out. Take that mother nature.<br />
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Do you know what else I have to do on my own? Deal with overflowing toilets. Yup. All on me. If I'm home alone and something goes wrong with the crummy downstairs toilet. I'm your girl. Bring it.<br />
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I also pick up my dogs shit.<br />
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I also go to EVERYTHING alone. Which can make me a leper at certain events. Don't worry ladies, I'm not trying to sleep with your man, I'm just trying to get through this event without getting so drunk I start crying. Which I'm getting pretty good at, a thank you!<br />
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And you know what? I have a love / hate relationship with all these things. Because someday being competent in the art of picking up dog poop and digging myself out of the driveway and unclogging a sink or setting up my DVD player (oh yeah, I do that on my own too) will make me an even better catch. I guess anyway...<br />
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But with everything in life there is one thing that gets to me more than others. One thing that twists my little heart. Which is silly because it's the tiniest thing. I can shovel snow and I'm fine. I can clean up toilet water and swing dog shit in a plastic bag while taking a nice little jaunt and I'm fine.<br />
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But the time when I'm like "damn, I'm so single and it stinks." is when I'm packing or unpacking my cooler. For road trips and country concerts. When I'm heading down the shore or going camping. I have to pack my own cooler. Buy the ice. Buy more ice. Empty the cold water and rinse it out when I get home. And that makes me feel even more single than I actually am.<br />
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It's usually the little things that bother you the most. Ain't that the truth.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760090535715106807noreply@blogger.com0