delicious word of the day — “diadem”

January 31, 2008 at 3:59 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 29 Comments

I have been goofing around on this here computer for over an hour, wasting time and trying to stir up some motivation to write something worth writing about on this blog o’ mine. And as I suck on my heaping spoonful of extra-crunchy, reduced fat Jif peanut butter — no, not listed among the Super Foods, but it is MY Super Food — I have realized that I have nothing of substance to offer today. So I will just write anyway.

 I burned off 641 calories on the elliptical today. I think I look stupid on the elliptical. Other people don’t look stupid. Well, some of them do, actually. And I think I’m one of them in the DO category.  I was about 40 minutes in when this one girl mosied on over to the stair climber machine positioned in front of me. She was beautiful. Blonde. Tan. Great body. Amazing legs. Everything I’ve ever thought that would bring me happiness was embodied in her red running shorts and white wife-beater. She bent down to adjust her shoe before climbing on and even I was like, DAY-UM!  And I meant that with the utmost respect and admiration. I would be afraid to bend over in so bold a position with people standing directly behind me. I am quite sure I would  hear the word “DAY-UM!” but I’m not so sure it would come with the same level of adoration I had for this perfect vision that was bending over in front of me. I am going to read “The Secret” again and put out a positive thought into the universe. “I have a fabulous butt.” Let’s just see what I get in return. Meantime, I need to take another lick from my Super Food.

Here’s something. I don’t know why I can’t just post the day-um video. But clicking the link isn’t that hard, is it?

I can’t help  myself. I think I’ve become what they call a groupie, although I’d like to come up with a better term for it.

I’m contemplating a spray-on tan, but I’m scared to death. I just don’t trust that I won’t come out with orange knee caps and streaks down my arms. But if I go to the Bahamas with the guys on the show, they are going to be merciless in their comments about my lack of pigmentation. If I’m going to do it, though, I’ve got to make up my mind fast. So many things to think about!!!! Will I smell funny? Will it rub off? If I shave my legs, will the color come off? Will I be orange? Here you go again:

 Just watch the thing and let me go suck my peanut butter in peace now.



delicious word of the day — “scrumptious”

January 30, 2008 at 3:04 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 28 Comments

I love Emma Kelly more than I love the air that I breathe. But we have now reached that point where I simply cannot take her anywhere that requires sitting patiently on mommy’s lap sucking lovingly on a binky while I take care of business. I learned this lesson the hard way today.

I  had an appointment to meet with a lawyer to draw up a will, leaving everything to my precious bundle of joy should I face an unexpected, early demise. My appointment was at 2pm, which is exactly when I pulled up to the big, fancy lawyer-people building. Twenty minutes later I was finally in his office because it took me that long to loop around 5 floors of underground parking and maneuver my SUV into a spot for compact cars only. I was desperate, people. So I was already sweating when I finally got to the lawyer’s lobby, but at least Emma Kelly was being her sweet self, perched on my hip wearing her lawyer-office best, complete with black patent shoes and black velvet hair bow. And then we went into the private office. That’s when it all fell apart.

Emma Kelly could not be contained. I tried bouncing her on my lap. I fed her cookies. I gave her juice. I even let her chew on an ink pen — it was an emergency! And the whole time I’m just apologizing to the attorney, who kept assuring me it was no big deal and completely unnecessary for me to keep apologizing over and over and over again. That’s when Emma Kelly basically threw her apple juice down on his glass top table, sending that sweet liquid splashing all over his suit — Armani, I’m sure, because things like this don’t happen to men wearing a suit from the Wash ‘N Wear collection. Again, he assured me that this was perfectly all right as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at himself while maintaining his eye contact and composure with me. I WAS MORTIFIED. I asked him to just give me a list of everything he wanted and needed from me and told him to send me the dry cleaning bill and I got the heck out of there.

Needless to say, I won’t let this happen ever, ever again. But I do get the official Bad Parent patch for the day.


“Elvis Ain’t Dead” by Scouting For Girls — LOVE IT WITH ME!

January 29, 2008 at 11:29 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments

Emma Kelly!

January 29, 2008 at 4:40 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 29 Comments

delicious word of the day — “Gnip Gnop” (remember that game???)

January 29, 2008 at 3:43 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 27 Comments

I am so freaking TIRED. I started off the day fabulously. I stepped up on that scale and found that after one day of super fooding, I lost the 4 pounds of water or salt or martini or cheese puff or whatever-the-heck-it-was weight I’d gained over my alcohol and food-fueled Friday and Saturday nights. So that was a good thing. Today, though, I succombed to the loveliness of a lunch that was pork ribs, cole slaw, and fresh-out-of-the-oven peach cobbler. Sorry. I’ll take that over hemp seeds and seaweed jerky any day! But in order to compensate, I did a full hour of pilates and then 45 minutes on the elliptical. And I did go back on the hemp seeds and incan berries (although I skipped the seaweed…sorry!) for supper tonight. If that four pounds is back on that scale in the morning………………well, I just won’t WEIGH in the morning. Avoidance is sometimes a good thing.

I do believe I’m climbing out of the slump I was in. My life/wellness/pilates coach even noticed it today. She actually told me that — gasp! — I was a PLEASURE to train! What??? I have the worst attitude about working out EVER!! I have literally slumped to the floor and CRIED in front of a trainer before! And now, I’m a freaking PLEASURE!!! If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is. I’m even seriously considering taking my yoga mat with me on our fabulous trip to the Bahamas and doing my pilates there. I’m on a roll now and I’ve got to keep up the momentum. 

I was just telling somebody today that yes, I’ve been going through a huge depression. I think I had just stuffed a lot of emotions and anger down deep inside of me for a while because, quite frankly, I didn’t have time to deal with it until recently. I was too busy getting on with the business of being a new mommy. And don’t they say that anger turned inward is depression?  I think mine was just finally manifesting itself. And you know how everybody kept telling me how stupid I was to be depressed and how they were yelling at me to snap out of it because I have such a wonderful life? Nope. That didn’t help so much. In fact, that sort of made it worse because YES, I do realize I have a beautiful, fabulous, amazingly well-tempered daughter, and YES, I have a wonderful job a lot of people would give their right arm for, and YES, I have a roof over my head and an SUV in the driveway and a little money in the bank and life should just be a bowl of pitted cherries, right? Logically, you KNOW you have no reason to be depressed, which only makes you feel that much WORSE about yourself. Depression isn’t always a logical thing. And then I was hit with some back-to-back emotional whammies which were literally making me physically ill until I found myself sitting in my doctor’s office with him handing me business cards for wellness coaches and psychotherapists.  I passed on the psychotherapist because I know me well enough to realize that this was just something temporary and that I was just going to have to live through it. And I did. I lived through it. I lived in it. Hell, I wallowed around in it! But now, I think I’m pretty much done with it. Who wants to live sad every freaking day? So that’s pretty much that. But if I’m not depressed anymore, will I still be interesting? I don’t know. It’s a huge quandary for me.  I know you think I’m kidding about that, but I’m not. People complain when I’m spitting out scorn and disdain, but they’re absolutely BORED if I’m tra-la-la-ing about how blissful and serene my life is. A quandary, I tell you…a quandary.


delicious word of the day — “sassafras”

January 28, 2008 at 3:50 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 24 Comments

I feel like I did a lot this weekend, but then again, I don’t. It sort of went by in a bit of a blur.

 Friday night I was supposed to meet some girlfriends for martinis, but it was looking like everybody bailed on me at the last minute. I am afraid I have never been able to go into a fine establishment by myself and hang out for the evening. I have to be a party of two of more. I HAVE TO. So when it was looking like I was going to be sitting on a barstool alone, I freaked and started calling everyone I thought might have absolutely nothing better to do than drop everything and meet me in less than 10 minutes. That didn’t go so well, but fortunately after an excruciating 30 minutes, my friends did show up. They were two martinis behind me, but they showed up. The place was pretty dead that night, but I ended up having a wonderful time catching up with girlfriends. We ate and drank and told bad jokes and laughed and it was good.

The next day, I woke with a bit of a headache, but Emma Kelly didn’t care one bit about that. So I was up at the crack of dawn playing with puzzles and watching Elmo’s World and reading books until it was time for me to go to that Super Foods class. Every woman there had a different reason for being there, and we all had to go around the room and tell what that was. There was a woman there with no energy. There was another who developed digestive issues. There was another suffering from allergies. There was another who couldn’t sleep. And here comes my turn…and yes, I told the truth. They swear they can help me, so I laid out my cash for goodness knows what! I’ve got bags of hemp seed and seaweed and incan berries I’m supposed to eat. I’ve got powders and pills I’m supposed to swallow. And the woman teaching the class is completely off dairy and she does that whole Raw Food diet where she can’t heat anything over like 130 degrees or something like that. But that’s beside the point. I bought a freaking bag of seaweed and I’m supposed to grow to love it and crave it like candy! Seriously? But hey, if it works, it works. I’m going to give it a good try because I just found out that I’m going to be wearing a bathing suit in front of my co-workers in less than a week. I don’t know if chomping on hemp seeds and seaweed is going to get me in bikini shape, but polishing off that bag of cheese curls like I did the day before I found out about going to the beach with my fellow workers surely wasn’t going to do the trick.

Anyway, after lugging home my bag of health, I had to get ready for Van Halen. I decided to just go for it and wear the naughty outfit J-Si had picked for me. I tried it with a couple of bras and it just didn’t work. It was braless or not at all. I figured if there was ever a time to go braless and have that be completely acceptable, it would be at a Van Halen concert. I cannot tell you how awkward and uncomfortable I was the entire time I wore that shirt. I kept hearing the “nasty boobies” comment from that hateful listener ringing in my ears and I don’t think I was the least bit paranoid — men were looking at that big expanse of skin. And who could blame them?? I might as well have had a “For Hire” sign dangling from my neck! I tried to play if off like, “I dress like this ALL the time.” But it was no use, I was miserable. I kept my coat on 90 percent of the time. It was just embarrassing. But let me just say this — David Lee Roth has the most amazing body and he is what — 50 something??? I couldn’t believe it! Rock hard abs and those cute little thingies on the side of his waist. What are those? Obliques? I don’t know. But wow.

And no, despite the hoochie wear at a Van Halen concert, nobody approached me. Nobody flirted. And except for the occasional glance at my business up front, no attention whatsoever. I don’t really think that was the right place to meet a single man anyway. I swear, the majority of the men there were traveling in herds. They all left their wives at home so they could go to a rock concert and play their air guitars and throw their rock hands up in the air without their wives glaring at them in embarrassment.

 Sunday I went to the movies by myself again to punctuate the fact that I’m gloriously alone, and then I went to the gym to work off the bag of cheese curls from two days ago. After that, J-Si came over to throw away something from my closet and then I enjoyed a dinner of tuna, brussels sprouts and hemp seeds. And that, my friends, is how you wrap up a weekend.


delicious word of the day — “Emma Kelly”

January 25, 2008 at 2:58 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 35 Comments

My daughter love me so much it hurts. Literally. She smashes her face into mine and grinds her eye sockets into my cheeks and every once in a while she gets so overcome with emotion that she head butts me right in the nose. It hurts so bad! Something inside of there is broken or splintered or damaged in some way, I just know it. So what do I do to discourage such behavior? I’m teaching her to wrestle with me. I LOVE IT! She crawls on top of me and I let her writhe around while I make noises like she’s actually doing damage and she loves it. It’s just one big brutal love fest around here.

I got my hair did today, so I automatically feel a bit sassy. Just something about gossiping with your hairdresser gets your juices going and then you end up walking out of there with kick-ass hair. It’s just a good thing. If I was rich, I’d go have my hair blown out every single day of my life. I know a rich person who does that. That is so freaking cool.

So I finally broke down in a sassy moment and texted that guy who got my number on Saturday night. I asked him if he had some sort of 120+ hour rule as to when he calls a girl back. Yeah. Still waiting on the response to that one. It’s only been 8 hours since I sent it. You think he’s playing hard to get?

I’m actually going out with a girlfriend or two or three or who knows how many tomorrow night. We’re going to go to an Italian restaurant where the owner loves me and buys me martinis. At least, he USED to love me and buy me martinis. That was before I was married, divorced and walking around with a baby on my hip. Now he says he wants me to set him up with some hot 20-something with no kids. Why not? I’ll pimp for free martinis. 

I’m going to go to bed now. I want to have a good day tomorrow. I’m meeting with the wellness coach to try pilates. Plus, I need to wake up early enough to try this Super Food drink thing she wants me to be taking twice a day and I’ve actually taken it, um………..I haven’t actually gotten around to taking it yet. But I will try it tomorrow. I WILL have it before I walk out the door for work. It’s supposed to make me have energy and stop my cravings for bad things. I hope it doesn’t make me stop craving martinis. The free ones are exceptionally delicious.


delicious word of the day — “Pamprin”

January 24, 2008 at 11:54 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 37 Comments

The meeting with the Wellness Coach went about as well as I expected. I sat there with my arms folded — a totally involuntary instinct which, once recognized, CONSUMES my every thought. “Does she see this as a defensive pose? Does she think that maybe I’m just a little cold? It IS a little cold in here. If I uncross my arms now, will that be too obvious? Will it look like I’m trying to prove to her that I’m NOT defensive and that I’m just more comfortable sitting here with my arms folded across my chest? AM I defensive? What am I defensive about? Is she going to make me cry. I am NOT going to cry! I’m just going to sit here with my arms folded and NOT CRY!” Meantime, she’s going through her entire spiel about helping me find my wellness, but I can’t hear anything she’s saying because I’m having this HUGE conversation with myself in my head.  I think she senses I’m not really there because she snaps me out of it with a question, “What are your goals?”

Goals? Do I have any goals? Have I ever? Saying I’m going to do something and then never doing it — Does that mean I actually had a goal that wasn’t realized or was that an example of me just running my mouth and never actually intending to do anything about it? So that’s not really goal-setting, is it? That’s just talking. So do I have goals now? What do I want to get out of this? Here’s what I came up with:

I want to lose about 10 pounds and firm up my butt.

I want to develop self-confidence and not automatically assume everyone who meets me hates me.

I want to dump the bag lady syndrome once and for all.

I want to break through this creative block I’m experiencing.

I want to wake up with energy and not battle the snooze button every day.

I want to poop. A lot. Like once a day. TWICE even!

Do you know how long it took for me to come up with that list? I sat there and struggled and stressed and delved and despaired until I came up with that stinking list! Session over! I want to go home now! But no, she wanted me to lie down and breathe. Absolutely not. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. I would feel stupid. So you know what? I didn’t do it. I am very difficult. I am going to make this woman re-think her career path. She also has this idea that she’s going to get me to eat Super Foods. Well, we’ll just see about that.


delicious word of the day — “incognito”

January 23, 2008 at 1:58 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 47 Comments

I am so freaking BORED. I think I’m going to have to take on a really huge, expensive project or actually — gasp! — pick up a hobby. BLEH! I HATE hobbies! I’ve never wanted one. I’ve never had one. I don’t even like the word “hobby.” There’s nothing delicious about that word whatsoever. To have a hobby implies that one has a passion for something, and people who are passionate about something have always frightened me a little. Basically, I just want to do stuff to kill some time during periods of boredom. I don’t necessarily have to classify what I end up doing as a hobby, though…do I?

I’m meeting with a wellness coach on Wednesday at noon.  Ya’ll write that down, now.  I’m sort of dreading the initial meeting because I’ve already had to fill out a very lengthy questionnaire that, quite frankly, left me in tears of frustration. I don’t want to answer questions about my ability to transcend or my problems with intimacy. I just want somebody to tell me what to eat so I can lose ten pounds, clear up my skin, poop on a regular basis, and be freaking WELL, dang it! After that inital Q&A, my “Wellness” score was 36.9 percent. THIRTY-SIX-POINT-NINE PERCENT!!! That means, my friend, that I am 63.1 percent NOT WELL! Believe it or not, I scored lowest on eating; second lowest on playing and working; and third lowest on finding meaning. What the hell does THAT mean?? I scored highest on self-responsibility, which means that I at least accept blame for every freaking thing that is wrong with me. Ugh. Getting well is not going to be as easy as I thought. Maybe THAT can be my hobby.


delicious word of the day — “piddly”

January 21, 2008 at 11:18 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 26 Comments

I am tired. This holiday weekend has worn me out. Friday night I took my neighbors out for a low-key dinner and I was in bed by 9pm. Not so naughty. Saturday night, it started with a Bat Mitzvah. My date was Big Al because a) he was also invited to the Bat Mitzvah; b) Bartendica had to work; and c) I never have a date because married men always have some lame excuse.  Actually, I hope everyone realizes I was kidding about C. Anyway, so Al and I went together. Going with Big Al meant, of course, that the night would include more than just the Bat Mitzvah.

We went from there to a swanky bar for cocktails and calamari. It was there that I picked out a guy I thought was cute and Al finagled an invitation for me. After all these years, I still haven’t figured out how to approach a man and just say “Hi!” Just can’t bring myself to do it….If I’m rejected, then what? I don’t THINK I would drop dead from embarrassment, but why risk it? So I don’t. But Big Al is bound and determined to be my matchmaker right now, so he finagled an invitation. Apparently I made a huge blunder when I told this guy that he reminded me of my best friend’s husband. Al pretty much spit his calamari in my face, “Kellie!! Never EVER tell a man he reminds you of anybody’s husband! Don’t even MENTION the word ‘husband’ when you meet a man!” Seriously? Anyway, Al excused himself to go to the restroom and I was left to fend for myself. Man! Carrying on a conversation with somebody you just met is HARD. Anyway, hubby look-alike tells me we should go to the club where he’s going, but Big Al has plans for us to go to a club where his buddies are going. I forced him to go to hubby look-alike’s club first. And then when I got there, I was like, Now what?? Was I just supposed to walk up and say, “Hi! I followed you here! I’m freaking pathetic!” Big Al said yes. That’s EXACTLY what I was supposed to do. Ugh. So I mustered up what little nerve I had and went up and said, “Hey! We’re here!” and hustled back to a neutral corner. Fortunately, he followed me.

We spent the next half hour or so making small talk. He FINALLY asked me for my number, and me and my insecure self had to ask him to repeat the question, just to be absolutely certain HE was sure he knew what he was saying. So I gave him my number. Big Al and I left. And that was that. And now? I wait. Will he ever call? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s okay either way.  I’ve actually been purposely loading up my social calendar with lots of fun stuff for me and my girlfriends. If a man comes along and wants to be squeezed in there somewhere, good. If not, I’m busy anyway.

I did hang out with Shanon for Fun Day Sunday and yes, fun was had by all. I watch J-Si almost get into a bar fight with some really cute guys. Testosterone. Bleh. And then I bought J-Si a shot when his Chargers lost. Poor thing. I wanted to buy the cute guys he almost got into a fight with a shot, but for some reason, J-Si wasn’t down with that. See? Even when I TRY to be naughty, I’m not allowed. It’s just too much work.

 I’m thinking my naughty campaign has about run its course. But I may still get a wild hair every now and then. It just made me feel guilty to even talk about being naughty. I’d rather it happen organically and on a case-by-case basis. Forcing it is frustrating and downright exhausting.

Okay, I’ve got to go tend to my daughter who just woke up grumpy from her nap.


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