You are what you eat, and I am garbage (language and dramatic flare warning)


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via pinterest via someecards

via pinterest via someecards

Look through your robot friends and behold me, the weak, pathetic human caught in the mist of your interweb. Commence the judging.

I have spent the last month in a complete state of ruin. My body has decided to go rogue and do whatever the fuck it wants whenever the fuck it wants to. Which, to be fair, it has always done. But now it’s like Uma Thurman from Kill Bill. There’s fucking BUSINESS to be had. It’s on road to kill. Phasers set to decimation.

Yesterday, I told my doctor the foods I was cutting out. He approved. Then he suggested I cut out coffee.

You want me to what? 

“Coffee,” he said, “It’s acidic. It has to go.”

“What about black tea?” I asked, once I’d regained the ability to move my lips and make sounds.

“Nah, I’ve seen people with stomach problems who drink TONS of black tea.”

But…what am I supposed to do in the mornings?

My doctor then advised to replace coffee with water, sitting with exercise, exercise with MORE exercise, not sleeping with sleeping, and depression with rainbows.

He ended our discussion with, “You have to believe you’re going to get better.”

Dude, you just told me to cut out all the foods I love. I’m guessing you’re saving the sex, internet, and tv abstinence talk for our next appointment. Gotta give me something to look forward to in my next pep talk.

The past few days/week, I have been attempting to curb my diet. Eat certain foods, avoid others. There was a way, a path, a plan. Currency was offered. Goods and services were exchanged.



That plan has all gone to shit thanks to a grocery store employee.

I’ll admit, I’m partially responsible. I went to the store today, barely cognizant of the day or time since I’ve become increasing apathetic towards food and have stopped eating meals. I’ve been depressed about my state of affairs, and because of that, I’ve basically eaten nothing worthwhile even though my husband and myself have gone to the store every honking day since Saturday.

Today, I had one purpose: find edible, dietary approved cookies. I asked an employee, and he led me to about 7 products upon request. In line I noticed, alas, the cupcakes had dairy and had to be returned. The cookies, however, still looked fine.

Once I’d returned to my modest castle, I began putting away the items that I’d bought–too many on account of going to the store hungry (banana chips, self? Really?). I beamed widely at my prize, my cookies, my–

What the fuck is that? No, what the fuck is that?

That is dairy.

So I made a smoothie. A sandwich. Rice. Broccoli. Fake cheese on a fake casserole. I consumed these things. But my body refused to give in.

“Noooooo!” it howled into the wind, collapsing into sobs. “We wanted the cookies!”

“There’s dairy,” I stomped, adamantly. “You cannot have this thing.”

“But we waaaaaaaants!” the stomach wailed in an Oscar performance imitation of Golum from Lord of the Rings refusing to enjoy any single piece of food I put in front of it.

I even tried to appease it with alcohol. Come on, now. Remember alcohol? You used to like alcohol. 

This is more like it, the body responds. I think we can make it. I mean, we’ve been to the store like every day since forever. We’re not going back tonight to return the imposter dessert whose figure we were assured was innocent tonight are we? 

No, I agreed, we’re not. It’s one day. You can survive.

Despite desiring sleep, I restlessly resisted the dance of dreams and continued to flit away my time until…

Until I walked to the kitchen, opened the cupboard.

What are you doing?

Walked to the couch where I parked my ass, my weapon in hand.

You know *exactly* what I’m doing.

Opened the package, and released the poison into my foodhole.

Cookie after malicious cookie was stuffed into my mouth as I barely bothering to chew or breath, and when I did, I made disgusting gnashing noises. These cookies fall apart with the consistency they’re SUPPOSED to, I thought bitterly, and (you know him as Newman from Seinfeld) Wayne Knight’s character, Dennis, from Jurassic Park flashed into my brain as it always does when I chow down on junk food. Golum and Dennis had a love child, and it’s this moi. I am that ugly end result.

Dear immune system, forgive me for I have sinned.

Upon eating half the bag, I went to the kitchen to find some REAL food. I pulled out the hard boiled eggs I made yesterday morning.

Frozen. They’re on the top shelf of the fridge, and they’re rock solid. That…that sounds about right. My luck would include frozen eggs.

Winding down now that the demon has asserted its power over me. Foodgasms were had, shame was reassessed. I came to report to my blog, not only to vow to do better next time, but to show the other people in the world that you’re not alone. I too ate that thing I shouldn’t have.

My goals for tomorrow include boiling eggs (new eggs, not the disgusting rocks that now occupy the garbage can), eating them instead of accidentally freezing them, going to the store on a FULL stomach, and getting the dietary recommended cookies. And not tearing into them like some kind of helpless tazmanian devil, which shouldn’t be a problem since I’m sure they don’t have the same constrained taste module.

Good night, World. Wish me luck tomorrow.



The Pit of Despair, ie, I’ll Most Likely Kill You in the Morning


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JGL in 500 Days of Summer via

JGL in 500 Days of Summer via

My hope when taking on this blog several years ago was to fill a void in me that longed for connection (I was homesick), strengthen my writing, and leave behind feelings that caused me discomfort.

It bothers me that I give so much of time to my physical well-being, and it’s still so rotten. My preference is to avoid talking about it, but sometimes there’s no avoiding it. In my better moments, I’m basically Wesley in the following picture. ESPECIALLY AT DOCTOR’S OFFICES. Like, “Oh, I have that now? I’d prefer not to sign up for this, but since I’ve been volunteered against my will like Hunger Games…let’s do this.”

Princess Bride via

Princess Bride via

Tonight, I missed an important Fellowship of the Rings (i.e. a wedding) due to pain. The good news is, it wasn’t mine. The bad news is, it’s not going to be the last time I miss a fun event. I’ve been more absent than not this year. It’s been rumored that talking out these things can help, and so I cannot avoid it. It’s the middle of the night, and every half hour for the last day has been spent trying to appease one part of my body or another that is in discomfort. It is like spinning plates.

Internet search for spinning plates. I tried to find the first picture with the biggest number of plates that also contained people spinning them who looked less than thrilled. So like this, but like 1 person vs. 100 plates, give or take

Internet search for spinning plates. I tried to find the first picture with the biggest number of plates that also contained people spinning them who looked less than thrilled. So like this, but like 1 person vs. 100 plates, give or take

Lying in bed tonight, yet another part of my shit body decided to squeal with unhappiness. I hate to say bad things about my body, because bodies are incredible. Even in a weakened and compromised state, I’m still thinking, feeling, hearing, seeing, moving (in recent cases, writhing), and tasting. These are incredible feats.

I fucking hate John Mayer’s music, but he’s right. My body is a wonderland. Although, lately, it’s more like a haunted theme park. Exciting in terms of there’s always something going on, but in a scary, confusing, you’re-probably-going-to-break-down-and-get-tortured kind of way.

Frustrated with the fact that yet another day of failing to improve had passed, I realized that most of my year has been spent this way. Again, there is much I have to be thankful for. But it was one of those breaking moments.

Princess Bride via

Count Rugen, Princess Bride (via

So if you’re looking for me, I’m over here lying down.

Wouldn't dream of it (via

Wouldn’t dream of it

I’m sure there are many of you out there who relate to my tale. Perhaps you aren’t one of the “lucky” ones, but you have a friend who has some health problems. Bear with them. They are going through a lot. The below is likely their life motto next to “get used to it.”


But sources tell me that things have to get better eventually. I realized that the phrase, “Get busy living or get busy dying,” is a pretty bad slogan for someone whose immune system can be described as anything higher than medium. By all means, enjoy life as much as possible, but that command sentence should not be carried out. Repeat: do not interpret literally.

If things go well, and you “get some rest, (‘cuz they’ll) most likely kill you in the morning,” and you live through it, you might just make it to a brighter day. I hear they’re making a second season of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.



Mistakes, Me, and You


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Today, I almost broke my husband’s computer. It happened this afternoon and would have been terrible. I tripped on the chord and the mini laptop plummeted to the floor. I tested it, and it appears to be fine at least temporarily.

However, partway through our evening, I remembered and made sure that I notified him.

One of the most troubling things I’ve found in harmonizing with other human beings is when a situation arises where honesty is demanded, and people take the easy way out by lying.

I’ll admit: I am not above telling a lie or two. Everyone has. I’m not claiming to have undergone some change where I only speak with radical honesty. However, it is an under-appreciated moral that I find urges me to constantly try to be a better person.

“I almost broke your computer today,” I told him. “But I didn’t. The chord is now bent, but it still plugs in and charges. I just wanted to make you aware. I didn’t mean to do it.”

When I was in college, I took a class where I watched a video presentation by Carol Tavris about anger and how anger is often primarily a case of miscommunication and misunderstanding. I’m often amazed at how valuable certain experiences and educational resources are. Experience is what we collect in our life. We can collect things, people, and career milestones, but when it is all said and done, experience is what we have to show. It can be pleasurable like a vacation or a document we read that influenced us. Either way, the takeaway can be immeasurable and touch our whole lives.

Her video also prompted me to read a book she wrote called, Mistakes Were Made (but not by me). I read it a few years before I went into the working world, but it was something I took with me and tried the best to put into action.

Tavris writes this in an interview:

Consider two students who have the same attitude about cheating. They don’t think it’s a terrible thing, but they know it’s not a good or honorable thing either. Suppose that they now have to take a test—say, one that’s going to determine whether they get into graduate school. They freeze on a crucial essay question, and suddenly the student in front of them, the one who has the most beautiful and legible handwriting on the planet, makes some answers visible.

Each of them makes an impulsive decision: One cheats to get a good grade; the other resists cheating to preserve his or her integrity. Now they will justify the choice they made. The student who cheated will minimize the seriousness of cheating and thereby become more vulnerable to cheating again. The one who resisted cheating will become even more adamant that cheating is unethical and wrong. Over time, through the process of self-justification, these two students will move further and further away from each other in their beliefs about cheating. It is as if they had started out at the top of a pyramid, close in their beliefs, but, having taking a step down in different directions, by the time they reach the bottom they are far apart. Moreover, they will come to believe that they always felt that way about cheating. Elliot developed the metaphor of the pyramid from an early experiment that Judson Mills did with children, which got precisely these results. The kids who cheated justified their behavior, and so did the ones who resisted.”

Many valuable lessons I learned from it are still at the forefront of my mind when I am in situations where I need to own up to something. It’s hard to be honest when honesty is demanded, especially when the larger situation needs deconstructing.

Certainly the fact that I didn’t break Parker’s laptop made the story easier to relay. However, grappling with the decision to tell the truth does something else. It asks us why we are lying. What are we afraid of? If we lie, is there a worse consequence? Mark Twain once said, “If you tell the truth, you never have to remember anything.” Sage advice.

One of the things you need to do if you’re attempting to tell the truth is make the other person understand your side of the story. Smaller stuff is easier. That’s where it starts. Uncomfortable with the thought of ‘fessing? You’ll feel better after you do.

When I lived in a house with lots of people, someone was filming a funny short video in our shared bathroom. I had a plant with a glass bulb watering system in it. Because I suck at watering plants.

When I came home on Sunday, the bulb had broken. My plant had spilled all over the bath room. I calmly asked my roommates who all said they knew nothing about it. But then I saw the video online of my roommate. In the bath tub. Next to my plant.

It’s possible that he was telling the truth. It could’ve been set somewhere unsteady and spilled long after he’d vacated the bath room. But he could’ve explained the fact that he was in the bath room in the first place. That he WAS near the plant. Instead, he insulted my intelligence by denying knowing anything about it, and then posting the video later.

I may be naive, but I am not a fucking idiot.

Things like this have happened before and constantly. People will tell me something, and then I’ll find evidence to the contrary. Then they will deny the evidence.

Now they have broken my trust. Their betrayal will remain in my memory FOREVER. If my roommate had confessed, I would’ve forgiven him. Accidents happen. People make mistakes. But admitting you made a mistake is one of the best things you can do. If you do something wrong, you’ll want to cover it up, but that will only make you and whoever discovers the truth feel worse. I am still friends with him, but every time someone lies to you, they become a little further away emotionally. I’ve dated two people who have done this excessively: a pathological liar, and someone who only lied about some of the most important and sensitive material when it mattered most.

“There is only one sin. and that is theft… when you tell a lie, you steal someones right to the truth.”
Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

I guarantee you that something you have lied about, someone else has discovered. It may be years and years, and they never confronted you about it. I know I’ve done it to someone else, and I assure you that you have too.

There’s a friend I once worked with at a job I hated. She was very good at her job. I was not. She gave me nothing but understanding and kindness as she tried to train me. In short, she gave me everything. Every time I made a mistake and she found it, I would confess. One time I said, “I can’t help it. I keep screwing up. I’m trying so, so hard, and I can’t get it right.” We were cleaning a room together. She said, “It’s okay. You’re learning. You’ll get it right eventually.”

Later, when I left that job, she told me about our third co-worker in the same position. This girl had lied constantly even when we both knew the truth, and she refused to give it to us. There were dozens of little lies here and there. My friend said, “She makes mistakes, but she never admits to them. I always appreciated how when you made a mistake, you would own up to it. She still doesn’t think she does anything wrong.”

It can also be best summed up as, “Someday, you’re going to be telling the truth, and no one will believe you.”

Decide what person you want to be, but when you pick a person, do not try to be a big person by saving face. Instead, make amends and admit fault, and in the end learn from your mistakes. That will make you the biggest person.

Karaoke Ben + Mary = Greatest Hits Forever


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My apologies for the formatting. I’ve been trying to fix it. I CAN’T.

Zooey DeSchanel via

Zooey DeSchanel via

Last night, I emailed my friend Ben who by this time next week will be a married man. However, I accidentally emailed my OTHER friend Ben first. Who is also engaged to someone named Mary. It’s been very confusing, since Parker only sort of knows both of these people. When I say “My friend Ben,” he’s always like “Ben who’s engaged to Mary?” and I’m like, “That’s two Bens.” And then he says, “Is this the Ben we karaoked with?” and I’m like “Yes.” So for those who are confused, this is Karaoke Ben. I can never, ever karaoke with my other friend Ben, because that will cause no end of confusion, and this clarification will take even longer than it already does.

Anyway, here’s my email to Ben:

Hi Ben,

The big day approaches! Parker and I are very excited to see you soon. I had planned on seeing if you wanted to get together before the big day for some karaoke. We should totally do that at some point. It’s not like marriage changes how awesome karaoke is. But I’ve been having some health problems, so I haven’t gotten the chance to ask you yet. Karaoke? Someday? Introverts unite at some point maybe to be social for a few hours and then go back to their caves for an extended period of time?
Top Gun via giphy via

Top Gun via giphy via

I think yes.
Until then, I’ve been having trouble finding the gift that will top all others at your wedding. I want something that says, Ben and Mary forever (this is clearly truer than ever since I have another friend named Ben who is also engaged to someone named Mary, hence the message I accidentally sent him instead of you at like 11:30 last night. It doesn’t make it any less special). Something to capture the essence of how momentous and unstoppable you two are.
I’ve narrowed it down to these.


Obviously, this is the best choice. I mean, it says both “Mary + Ben = magic” and I’m like 90% sure these fantastic creatures live forever. I fear, however, that that price will be either too much (not that you guys aren’t worth it, but I’m just guessing these beasts of beauty cost more than the boat Parker and I live on) or that I will have to trade something I don’t have and obtain it in an overly complicated manner. I mean, how many female, virgin friends do I have to send to meet the buyer in an open field? That comment is weirder if you haven’t looked at the picture yet, so please do. I’ll wait.

Which made me consider the next option.

2. Untoppable Exit

This option is more doable. I mean, imagine your exit from the reception! Epic, am I right? Maybe less so since you won’t be adroit at riding it. YET. However, my fear is that by the time I get around to deciding whether to get this prehistoric mare for you, she will be gone. I don’t like to be pessimistic, but I have to have a backup, backup plan. Probably.

Which brings me to
This one is a little less impressive initially, but I urge you to look closer. I mean, this says “I love music. I make most of my living room into a dojo of dancing.” Also, I know you guys have at least one cat. Which means that when you’re not blasting Styxx or The Police, the cat could climb to the sky as all cats are want to do. Perhaps it could be her “somewhere to hide, to keep me aliiiive.” Watching Mary tackle this bad boy when she boards the plane is a priceless image that would make the purchase of these WORTH IT. However, I don’t want to be inadvertently responsible for your neighbors killing either of you. That would be like the WORST gift.

4. Woodland Creatures Come in Peace

This one not only says “We are one wacky, hip couple,” but you will always look at it with fond memories of your wacky friend, The Weird Button, who passed it on to you. On the other hand, it kind of reminds me of one of the gifts from the movie, Gone Girl. And isn’t your sister named Amy? Which would be super bad juju starting out for the two of you.

Also it looks like you need a truck to remove it.
I know I shouldn’t ruin the surprise of the gift, but really, I just wanted to get you excited for all the possibilities. And there’s always the unseen possibilities like, money.
See you soon!
Your friend,
The Weird Button
Thanks to The Best of Craigslist. There’s a lot of solid gold here. Obviously, I didn’t write all of those entries. Feel free to lose yourself in the funnies.
Mean Girls via giphy via

Mean Girls via giphy via

Speaking of which, what is the best wedding gift you’ve ever received? What’s the worst? What about the best wedding gifts you’ve given other people? Tell me in the comments! I’d love to hear.

Take Care of You


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source:, Parks & Rec

Today is one of those rough days, where I want to do ever the increasing number of productive things but am overwhelmed by anxiety, depression, pain, and burn out.

I’ve done like 4+ productive things, which is an incredible feat for me. Right now, I’m taking a break from that by blogging and pre-ordering a book. It comes out around my birthday, which is perfect, because I’ll be using birthday money. It is a humorous account from one of my heroes about her health problems.

The book is called Furiously HappyThanks, Jenny Lawson for being my inspiration!

A month or so ago, an article called “Can Reading Books Make you Happier?” (spoiler alert: YES) introduced me to the term bibliotherapy which is defined as therapeutic relief through reading. So this purchase is towards my well being and happiness. Thanks in advance, hero!

Speaking of bibliotherapy, it’s time to go pick up my new book that just came in from the library and drop off the pile that I recently received!

Source:, Mr. Darcy

I plan on doing at least one more productive thing before the end of the day (besides resting). Onward!

Can you relate? Do you like books? Do you have a topic suggestion? Lay it on me! I’d love to hear from you. :)

Please Speak After the Beep


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This week, one of my dearest friends, Frost, is gettin’ hitched. Frost lives out of state, and due to my health condition/restrictions, I am unable to attend the wedding. I was bummed before, but with the week looming large, I am getting sadder at the thought of missing out on sharing a big celebration with an old friend.

I’m beyond thrilled that Frost is entering into this new phase of his life. For myself, getting married was something I always longed for, and now that I am married, it’s hard and painful to remember what it was like most of the time before I was a “we,” back when I was just a “she.” Of course, I am still the same person…but I’m also altered, like an element exposed to extreme temperature. Some of it is marriage, the rest just that people change (hopefully, they evolve) with every year.

I’m hoping that some point over the course of the week, or possibly the following week, that I will receive a video from a friend of a glimpse of Frost’s special day, a few moments where I get to see through the magic of technology the magic of love. For love of my friend, and because I love bearing witness to the power of love.

Confession: This takes me back to age 12. If gently nudged, I could probably post a slew of girly, embarrassing memories that could prove to be more interesting than this post. Who’s to say?? If you challenge me, I may give in. 

But if I had to, a voicemail from Frost himself would do.

You see, Frost holds a special place in my heart for voicemails. Wifey can send me the best laugh-out-loud texts that send me into delightful belly aches.

About 7 years ago, Frost graduated from college and we resumed some of the friendship we had shared from our high school years. We used to spend hours at a local pizza joint pouring out stories from our childhood while we readied ourselves for our weekly bowling club meetings.

But we weren’t quite as close as we’d been before. I was beginning to experience the next levels of love pangs and an end of university/start of real-world breakdown. Some dark days in a new-to-adulthood kind of shit was hitting me for the first time. My high school pal couldn’t wallow with me the way I needed, and although we had some fond memories, there are points in your life when you need a breather but not a severance.

A year later, I was married, Frost was in grad school, and we were living several states away. But we still talked, even if I was horrible at initiating this. Despite his harrowing ongoing education, Frost kept in contact with the added weight of a health condition that arose while he was away. Even when our worlds felt very dissimilar, I could still count on quarterly chats from him that lasted an hour or more. I looked forward to our conversations, and his calls relieved the ache of lonliness being so far away from home. Occasionally, a “how’s it going” email would pop up. I went to visit him in the mountains, and he came to Central Time to see me.

When my husband and I got married and moved, some of our friends drew together in solidarity and strength during our absence. Parker noted that the friends who banded together to form new friendships are the ones that lasted. Since Til didn’t hang out with us before Parker and I got married, he was stunned to hear tales from a few of Frost’s parties. His house was the natural solution to the question, “But where should we gather?” and I imagine in the next few years with Frost’s tying the knot, it will be the answer again.

Not only is Frost a caring soul with a pursuit of knowledge and responsible for one of the best running commentaries against a basketball game, but he leaves his mark on the world. He had some extremely memorable parties that I was reminded of not but a few days prior.

At one of his birthday parties, Wifey (my old roommate, to be clear) was out of town on a camping trip. Ever the vigilant friend who always liked his friends to know he was thinking of them, he left her a handful of voicemails over the course of the night to regale her with our antics and lightly chastise her for her lack of physical presence at the momentous occasion. They got more and more hilarious as the night went on.

Several times over the summer, Frost would leave me (and no doubt, my friends have their own experiences of this) recorded calls wherein he stated that he missed me. Once, I got one that said only said, “Jen, What the f—” only to be interrupted by the Recorded Polite Woman stating “END OF MESSAGE!” I’ve received a lot of voicemails in my life, but that is in my top 10, and one of the only ones I can recall by heart (I should add that several belong to my husband since sometimes he calls and sings sweetly into my voicemail box, just because).

So dearest Frost, I wish you well on your upcoming nuptials. May you cherish each other, grow together, and have everlasting happiness. And don’t forget to leave me a voicemail.

Independence Day: Welcome to Earth


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Google images

Google images, Independence Day (1996)

It’s been almost 10 years since Will Smith, Randy Quaid, and Jeff Goldblum saved us from aliens, but the world is still here, and we’re still celebrating. Oh. Someone just told me that there’s actually an older, historical reason we celebrate Independence Day that has nothing to do with a movie that also happens to star Adam Baldwin from Firefly and Burn Notice.

I am really excited about today. I enjoy the 4th of July. Hot weather doesn’t trouble me nearly as much as cold weather does. My body seems to do better in warmer weather, so I feel more in my element today than I have in quite awhile. The other reason I’m feeling good, is because I got the pleasure of celebrating a 3day weekend. In my personal opinion, I think every weekend should be a 3day weekend. It always puts people in a good mood, they tend to get more sleep, see more friends/family, do shopping (good for the economy), and for those of us with health issues, these are important for overbooking our calendars with activities we aren’t normally able to accomplish in the short span of a regular weekend since it requires loads of rest and relaxation from a long, painful week.

A friend of a friend posted an extremely negative article about living in America. I didn’t read it, because both my mood and the weather are fantastic, and I don’t enjoy it when people rain on my parade. Literally or figuratively. Also, I don’t really like parades, and I’m a lesser fan of ice since most companies insist their employees still go to work. So I guess what I’m saying is “do not Mr. Freeze on my pool party.” That sounds a lot more accurate.

On America’s great day of freedom, here is what I have to say: I’m a fan. No, this country is not perfect, and there’s plenty of terrible things that happen both here and other places. HOWEVER, I also think there is a lot of good in the world. Maybe I sound a little like Anne Frank, but think about how many people look up to her. She lived in a very sad situation, but she wrote beautifully with words that still are capable of bringing tears to our eyes. There are a lot of wonderful people in this world, and there are a lot of despondent, under-developed areas on this planet, both politically and economically.

Today, we remember all the people who fought bravery, both as soldiers and activists for our freedom in the United States of America. Interpretations of this may vary, but there you you go.

I will also celebrate traditionally by making for the first time ever my grandmother’s punch recipe that she implemented at every birthday and holiday party we went to at her house, and the delicious dessert I created in high school which consists of making a treat that requires minimal effort while maximizing tastebuds for a mouthgasm. Let freedom ring.

But before that, I will take Sheryl Crow’s advice and “soak up the sun.”

Another Google image search

Another Google image search, Independence Day (1996)

Why We’re All Gob Bluth


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Gob Bluth is my favorite Bluth by a landslide. Maybe he’s your favorite too. But have you thought about how similar you are?

1. You don’t think like everyone else, but you have great ideas.



2. You’re a huge flirt, although not always on purpose.

3. You can make things look great. So great that people get jealous.

4. And you have a way with words.

5. Even if you’re not great at listening…

6. Or very good with money…

Gob Bluth does math - Imgur

really bad with money.

7. Still, you always dress to impress.

8. You DO make mistakes. Frequently. But you own up to them.

9. You can really get everyone fired up.


10. And you know how to make a hell of an exit.

You’re quite impressive.

Thanks to Arrested Westeros for combining two of my favorite shows!

One thing

One of the things I try to do when I’m home sick and in pain is accomplish something. It doesn’t matter how large or how small. The point is to do a thing I wouldn’t do if I were working that day. A phone call. A letter. An errand. A chore.

Or a blog post?

Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Do something every day that scares you.” For me, it’s more like “do one thing each day that helps or inspires.” These things don’t “scare” me. If I did one thing every day that scared me, that would be the same thing each day and it would be keeping my life the same.

I did fail to do a bunch of things today. I failed to make cold-brew, but I did learn how to make it. I failed to call my student loan people and reduce my monthly payment, but I did research some potential doctors/medical providers to help me overcome physical pain.

Now I’m going to go to my appointment and lie down for awhile. It’s a little depressing how excited I am to rest.



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Earlier this year, I was involved in a car accident. When I say it, my mind goes into a completely horrifying warp, near-death experience kind-of-place. Which is sort of the case regardless of the actual outcome when you have watched that Mystery of Natalie Wood documentary too many times and spent too much time contemplating, “How DO I think I’m going to die?”

Spoiler: Probably not like this. But I’m not ruling it out. Source:

Truly, it could have been much, much worse than it was, and I’m very grateful it wasn’t. For example, when medical professionals have asked me about my bath room habits, they’ve had to specify, “Has this accident made you incontinent?” and I’ve thankfully been able to say, “No.” The first week after it happened, my body was still absorbing the shock, so I kind of felt like I had taken a fork and shoved it into an electric outlet. When it occurred, I was also a week into some weird cold/flu that I’d avoided going to the doctor for or staying home, so when I went to urgent care after it happened, they informed me that I was running a fever, and I should be lying down regardless. When I went back to work, none of my co-workers were aware I’d been in a motor vehicle collision since our entire office was suffering from mild to extreme cases of the plague, and they all greeted me with, “We’re so happy you’re not dead!” to which I replied, “Me too. You have no idea.” From now on, these two gifs will represent my only forms of transportation: laughing, animated horses and skateboarding and…birds? Just kidding, I’m terrible at skateboarding.

Source: via

Source: via

One of the outcomes was that I had to go back to physical therapy. This was scary for me, because when I was told I had to go to physical therapy a year or so earlier for a work-related injury, I became oddly convinced that at some point I would have to return to PT since I have ongoing health conditions that aren’t just going to disappear. This made me super depressed and nervous about going in the first place. The primary reason I eventually went was that my pseudo-step dad told me that I could either go now and avoid surgery or have to have surgery and be forced to go to PT to help myself recover AFTER. Pop culture also played a role, because I had to make it sound awesome, so I began to channel Charles “Professor X” of X-Men Xavier and John Locke from Lost.

The cool thing about PT is that the process forces you to take an active role in your own well-being, and if you are sort of a control freak like me, it’s nicer than just sitting around being anxious. Going back a second time also brings about that whole hindsight 20/20 factor, where you begin to realize both your limitations and also your strengths. You have to spend each week assessing your body on your own time so you can go back to “class” with questions. I’m a query-based learner, so it’s imperative for me to know which muscles I’m stretching, brain-storming/pictures/examples that I can use to remember how I’m supposed to be moving in order to do the stretches when I’m not accompanied by a professional, and where I’m supposed to be in the whole “healing” process (it’s in quotations, because sometimes it’s not as straight-forward and continuous as I hope it will be).

Yesterday, my instructor was all, “Okay, we’re going to use the equipment in here today!” and to avoid physically shuddering and looking weak, I was like, “All right, let’s do this!” I decided to accept the challenge. First we started with leg-based strengthening, and I was mentally, self-congratulating. See? I can do ALL the stuff. I am a bad ass, rock star.


Dean distracted me with talking while I tried not to boast too hard that I do all this stuff, and aren’t I cool? As if to prove the opposite, he was like, “Okay, now let’s work on your upper body.”

Okay, it wasn’t quite this bad initially, but I just found the infomercial section of, and this is the best interpretation I could find of trying to get control over my back pain. Source:

That’s when I remembered I was not Popeye, even if I DO try to eat spinach (but not out of a can because that’s disgusting, you guys). I started to feel it while I was doing it, and the discomfort became more obvious in the minutes to hours afterwards.

Here’s where my mistake came in. Dean told me to trust my body and not overexert it. I said, “Should I do any more stretching when I get home tonight?” He said, “No.”

Stupidly, I went home and did aerobic exercise for another 20 minutes.

Because people are always telling you you can out-think your problems and it’s mind-over-matter, but when my instructor tells me not to do something, I don’t say, “What if I just exercised a little more and didn’t stretch?” Because I really, really want to be infallible.

Also, I’ve been:

A) Rewarding myself with tv for exercising. Consequently, doing the thing I love without the thing I don’t love felt lazy, like I was cheating, and…

B) I’ve been using exercise to dismantle the bomb that is my paralyzing anxiety. Because it quells it into silence. While I don’t love the action-based part of it, I like the result.

Source: (Emily Deschanel, Bones) via

Except now I am sitting at home in pain losing money by not working which is significantly less intelligent than just listening to the advice of the wise.

Adults are always saying that teenagers “think they are superheroes,” and are untouchable, but I for one definitely fall prey to that kind of idiotic thinking now more than I ever did when I was young. Because as an adult, you are expected to have “all this shit figured out,” do everything all the time, and never, ever show weakness either emotionally or physically.

It’s hard to explain why I do this without using these amazing Friends quotations that are supposed to represent different astrological signs. Although PERSONALLY, I would swap Cancer and Virgo’s, and come up with different ones for Taurus, Leo, and Capricorn. The most accurate ones are Aries, Libra, Scorpio, and Aquarius (except for my friend JR who is always the exception to that sign). I will rework this later. Check out Libra’s.

Not sure if this is from fuckyafriends tumblr or fuckyachandlerbing tumblr. So I'll source both.

Not sure if this is from fuckyafriends tumblr or fuckyachandlerbing tumblr. So I’ll source both.

I’m aware that some of you don’t believe in astrology, and that’s fine. But “I couldn’t say no twice,” completely describes why I’m trying to no longer be a part of customer service, and also why I actively seek to never, ever, EVER be anyone’s boss. “I guess I’m going to Yemen.” But not really, because my back hurts.


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