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Things Driving Me Crazy Today

Maybe I need to cut back on the caffeine, but I seem more irritable than usual. Could be a lack of sleep. Could be low levels of sugar (probably not). Could be Tuesday. Could be the cold. Could be too many things driving me crazy, such as:

Taking off a sweaty sports bra. I basically have to dislocate my shoulders to get the damn thing over my head.
Magazines with a special “flipped” section, so half of the magazine is upside-down. It’s stupid. Not special.
Puncture weeds that find their way into my carpet–and the soles of my bare feet.

(They look like devil heads–and they hurt like hell when you step on them.)

Stabbing my eyeball with a mascara wand.
Biting into the frozen center of a “cooked” microwave meal.
The insane line at Texas Roadhouse–and their stupid “call ahead” ploy that never gets you in sooner.
The people who dropped off a couch and entertainment center on the corner next to our house. In the snow.

(Freakin’ rednecks.)

Dirty, gray, concrete-style snow leftover from December’s first snowfall.
The sound made by a fork as it scrapes against a plate. Ewwwwwwwwww.
Blowing my nose 1,000 times a day.
The Fitbit my husband bought me for Christmas. Now, at 10 p.m., I find myself running laps through the house, trying to get my damn 10,000 daily steps in.

(Fitbit: The T-Rex of exercise equipment.)

People so enthusiastic, energetic, dynamic, tireless, bouncy and unrelenting that you need to punch them behind the knees to make them stop moving.
Mirrors.
The price of Girl Scout Cookies.

That’s all. Please resume your Tuesday.

New Year’s Diet Dilemma

So. What diet is everyone starting today?

I visited the Barnes & Noble site, typed in “diet books” and got 125,340 results. Some experts say stop eating anything that can’t be grown in your backyard. (There are LOTS of things growing in my backyard I would NEVER eat.) Other experts promote eating whatever you want, as long as you have a positive attitude. (“I’m positive my a** just grew 3 sizes because I’m eating Twinkies at every meal.”)

(The Cannibal Pumpkin Spice Diet)

So how do you find the perfect eating plan? I’ve scoured the top 80,000 diet books to give you a synopsis of your options.

The Doctor’s Diet: I thought this would be about eating tongue depressors and cotton balls, but not so. Dr. Travis Stork promotes healthy eating, whether you’re a vegan, a Vulcan or a veterinarian.

The Paleo Diet: (Again, misunderstanding. I thought this was an albino diet book. My bad.) This diet suggests eating food our ancestors would have enjoyed during the Paleolithic era. Like mastodon, insects, grubs and pebbles. Mmmmm. Sign me up.

(I think you need to grunt, scratch and wear furry loincloths to get the full effect.)

The Reboot with Joe Juice Diet: Obviously, this diet is about juicing. I hate juicing. Don’t hand me a drink and tell me to guess what’s in it.

Friend with good intentions: Try this! It tastes great, and I have so much energy!

Me: No.

Friend (again): But it’s so healthy!! And fresh!! And yummy!!

Me: That sounds terrible.

Friend (relentless): You’ll like this. It has strawberries.

Me: And what else?

Friend: I’ll tell you after you try it.

Me: Small sip. Umm, is it grass and fish pee?

Friend (former): No, silly! It’s celery, turnip, cayenne pepper, kitty litter and apple.

Me: You told me there were strawberries.

Friend (very former): I lied.

(Some things just shouldn’t be blended together. Squash, yogurt, pinecones and tulip bulbs, for example.)

The Pound a Day Diet: I’ve been on this plan. I gained one pound every day I was in San Francisco last August.

Then there’s the Crazy, Sexy Diet, the Dash Diet, the 3-1-2-1 Diet and diets to speed up your metabolism. If you have a health issue, guaranteed there’s a diet for it. Most diets promise to cleanse toxins, burn fat, end pain, save the world and manage to get you back to your birth weight.

Here’s my diet this year: Eat healthy. Exercise. Go outside. Play with my grandkids and my dog. Stop beating myself up. Start appreciating a body that walks, talks, breathes and loves. I call it the Enjoy Life Diet.

Have a great New Year.

Kids’ Guide to Surviving December

Today’s blog is for children across the country who are pretty sure time has stopped completely. I know you think Christmas will NEVER come, but rest-assured you’ll be screaming around the Christmas tree in no time.

Here are some tips to surviving the next 8 days without going bananas:

Be patient with your parents. They have forgotten how important Christmas is. They don’t remember how it feels to think about Santa and presents and gifts and new toys and candy and stockings and surprises ALL DAY LONG.
Take a nap. Time passes much quicker when you’re sleeping. Sometimes I’ll sleep for several days in a row.
Ignore that creepy Elf on the Shelf. This little weasel is the opposite of what Christmas is about. In fact, if you have an Elf on the Shelf in your house, kidnap him and stuff him into your sock drawer.

(An appropriate place for EotS.)

When inspecting presents under the tree, don’t be too obvious. You don’t want to “accidentally” tear a corner and find you’re getting a pair of socks.
Be okay with getting socks. Or underwear. Or T-shirts. Santa knows these things are important–even if they make crappy presents.
Ask your mom several times each day if tomorrow is Christmas.
Make a list for Santa, and then change everything on your list on Christmas Eve. Just to keep Santa on his toes.

(Tell that sneaky-ass elf to leave your list alone!!)

Watch lots of TV. Get more toy ideas and beg your parents for those toys.
Play with your siblings. If Santa sees you being nice, maybe you’ll get that Xbox One.
Sing every Christmas song you know. At high volume. During dinner. And at 3 a.m.
Practice your times tables, read a book or do science experiments with fruitcake and firecrackers. Your teacher will be impressed you’ve kept up your skills during Christmas break.
Whine. Tell on your brothers and sisters. Fight. (Parents love it when you act like this. They really do.)

Before you know it, it will be Christmas morning. And then you’ll have to wait 365 days until the next Christmas holiday.

A Martha Stewart Christmas

Martha Stewart and I could be twins. She’d be the perfect, talented twin, and I’d be the evil, slightly disturbed counterpart who tried to eat her in the womb. We just have SO much in common.

I picked up the latest Martha Stewart Living magazine at the library (I’m not paying for that) and found her holiday calendar in the front of the publication. I was amazed at how similar our Decembers were with all the parties and decorating and such. Here’s a few examples of our activities that are eerily identical:

Dec. 4: Martha flew to Canada to speak at the Fort McMurray Public Library.

Dec. 4: I picked up this magazine at the Kearns Public Library,

(Uncanny.)

Dec. 10: Martha will stake the tomatoes in her vegetable greenhouse. (That’s darling.)

Dec. 10: I will clean the black, mushy tomatoes out of my vegetable bin.

(See what I mean. Twins.)

Dec. 17: Martha checks her back-up generators to ensure she’ll have electricity in the event of a winter storm and power outage.

Dec. 17: After the power goes out from the latest storm, I will gather all the birthday candles I can find and try to strike a match on the kitchen counter because I’ve lost the striking surface from the box.

Dec. 22: Jude and Truman stop by to make holiday cookies with Martha

Dec. 22: I contact E-Z Restore to fix the damage done to my home during my Christmas Cookie event with the grandkids.

Dec. 24: Today, Martha finishes decorating and cooking for her Christmas brunch. Her menu includes–Oysters with mignonette (?), Buckwheat crepes with mushroom filling (o. . k . . ), Creamed spinach with poached eggs (really??) and ham with lingonberry jam. (I need Rolaids just reading this menu.)

Dec. 24: I frantically shop for last minute gifts. At Walgreens.

(Selling tape and cheap toys 24 hours a day.)

Dec. 25: “Christmas brunch with family and friends–and caroling, of course.”

Dec. 25: Collapse in a holiday heap under the tree with a bottle of Patron.

Dec. 27: Martha remembers the birds this season, and makes birdseed pinecones with Jade and Truman. (Who the hell are Jade and Truman?)

Dec. 27: Christmas is over, people!!! I’m not doing anything else. Feed your own damn selves, birds.

(I don’t think they like your pinecones, Martha.)

Dec. 31: Martha finds room for improvement as she makes her list of 2014 resolutions!

Dec. 31: Screw it all. I’ll be in bed by 10.

How to Tell if You Have Holiday Stress

Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Christmas is fast approaching. Along with shopping, partying, trying not to gain 20 pounds, finding the perfect present for your crotchety neighbor, and avoiding those guilt-inducing Salvation Army bell ringers, stress levels are at an all-time high. There’s a good chance you’ll find yourself in a department store with absolutely no recollection of having walked through the doors.

(If this is you, don’t bother reading. Go on with your freakin’ perfect life.)

Here are ways to determine if you might be overdoing it this holiday season:

You are in the mall–crying.
You’re eating coffee beans straight from the bag.
The sound of “Jingle Bells” makes you want to vomit.
If Santa doesn’t move kids faster through his line, you’ll punch him in the kidney.
Your Christmas wish list consists of drug/alcohol products.
If you hear “Silent Night” one more time, you will pop your eardrums with a candy cane.
Christmas lights are too loud.
Your meals consist of sugar cookies, fudge and despair.
You seriously consider converting to a non-Christmas-observing religion.
People start suggesting the name of a good doctor.
Your Christmas tree is mocking you.

(Stop laughing at me Mr. Pine Tree. I’m doing the best I can!!)

If you hear Bing Crosby’s “Silver Bells” once more, you’ll stab a reindeer.
You decide aluminum foil makes pretty wrapping paper.
Nativity scenes make you angry.
You find yourself in the middle of a Christmas tree lot, handing out uncooked pasta, in your underwear.
You are asked to leave a department store because you won’t stop yelling, “You can’t handle the truth!”
Children avoid you.
If you receive one more happy family Christmas newsletter, you’re going to go all Unabomber.
Your grandma slaps you to calm you down.
Your family hides in the walk-in closet until you go to sleep.

Cheer up! It will be over soon, and you can look forward to a long, cold, dreary January.

(If one more person tells you to “Cheer up!” they might find a dismembered nutcracker in their fridge.)

My Annual Gratitude List

As I’ve mentioned in past years, bloggers are required to create a gratitude list each November. I think it’s written in the Affordable Care Act (somewhere between “quagmire” and “socialism”). Here are the things I’m grateful for this year:

My address doesn’t include the words “Syria,” “Juarez,” or “Detroit.”
I wasn’t involved in a sex scandal. (I wanted to be, but couldn’t make it happen.)
American Horror Story. Specifically Jessica Lange. Oh, and Kathy Bates. And Angela Bassett.
Shaving cream.
Lady Gaga overcoming her debilitating shyness.
Denny’s bacon menu.
Sloths

(My mascot.)

CAPTCHA security codes. (I feel like a secret agent typing the indecipherable letters/numbers.)
Dogs with happy, waggy tails.
The NSA set up shop in my backyard. Now I can feel safe.
Movie theater popcorn.
Miley Cyrus taught us how to appropriately appreciate demolition equipment.

(Thank you, sledgehammer.)

My city has not been used in a headline with the words “typhoon,” “hurricane” or “Anthony Weiner.”
Dennis Rodman is our ambassador to North Korea.
Pie. Any kind of pie.
San Diego.
Kim Kardashian finally found true love. Again.
Swear words.

Twelve Steps to a Perfect Thanksgiving Dinner

In less than two weeks, people will enter my kitchen and demand a perfectly cooked dead turkey, smashed potatoes and chopped veggies. Sounds pretty violent. And although I STILL can’t cook a turkey so it’s done on time, I’ve found a way to make T-day cooking go a little smoother (yes, alcohol helps).

Before Thanksgiving Day:

1. Figure out who’s coming to dinner. Contact parents, siblings, children, distant relatives, grouchy neighbors and obnoxious co-workers to see if they will attend. Chances are, no one will tell you their plans until the night before the holiday.

2. Create the menu. It’s not that hard. Turkey, potatoes (mashed and sweet), cranberries (yuck), stuffing (double yuck), assorted Jell-O salads, vegetable dishes–and lots and lots of pie. With whipped cream. And sugar cookies.

(Don’t mess with tradition. People expect turkey. That’s it.)

3. Divide menu items amongst the guests. Your cousin will bring a jar of pickles. Your aunt might bring a box of butter. Plan on making everything else yourself.

4. Purchase a turkey (and other Thanksgiving paraphernalia). To determine the size of turkey you’ll need, take the number of people attending and times it by 14. Subtract the cost of the turkey, and divide by how many parents you have (this includes step-parents). Add the time you’ll be eating dinner, plus the amount of time it takes to consume a bottle of tequila. Simple.

5. Prepare food ahead of time. Except for the turkey, potatoes, stuffing, rolls, pumpkin pies, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, chocolate cream pie and vegetable trays, everything else can be made the day before.

Thanksgiving morning:

6. Get up. Lying in bed, facing a day full of cooking, relatives, dirty dishes and calories, you might think it’s easier to snuggle back under the blankets and call in sick. Don’t bother. People will still show up. Start consuming caffeine/alcohol as soon as possible.

7. Cook turkey. As mentioned before, my turkey is either still gobbling at dinnertime, or has become turkey charcoal. To figure out cooking time, call the Butterball hotline, 1-800-DUMBASS. Or take the weight of the bird, divide it by the halftime score of the Cowboys game, add an additional 2.5 minutes for each time someone asks if dinner is ready, and subtract time spent crying in the bathroom. Should be golden brown (see above). At some point.

8. Set the table. Unlike Martha Stewart, I don’t have a banquet hall with full service for 25 people. So instead, I gather card tables, piano benches, concrete blocks, unused doors and a couple of old mattresses, and create a festive table with enough chairs for all!

(Eating outside keeps your home tidy. Caution: Not to be attempted during a snowstorm.)

9. Greet guests. You’re probably totally plowed at this time, so don’t say anything stupid.

10. Have a prayer. Even if you only pray when you’re in a plane hitting turbulence, assign someone to give a heartfelt thanks for surviving another year. And bless the food so your guests don’t die from food poisoning.

11. Eat. And continue eating for the next three days. Apple pie is good for breakfast any time of year. Turkey sandwiches are good only if made with leftover rolls. If you can sit with your pants buttoned, you haven’t eaten enough.

(Eat until your eyes roll back into your head.)

12. Call “Not it!” when it’s time to decide next year’s Thanksgiving location.

Top 5 Ways to Increase Blog Traffic (Sex)

Is your mother the only person reading your blog? Are you posting spammed comments so you look popular? Do you wish you could attract more people to your site? Well, today’s your lucky day. Sex. By incorporating these Top 5 suggestions, your blog should reach at least two people by the end of November.

1. Use blog terminology: By harnessing your blog roll and syndicating the content on your RSS feed, under the auspices of links and trackbacks, your search optimizationed guest bloggers will soon nominate yourself for web rings and online blogosphere analytics. Then you can StumbleUpon interaction with the blogeur du jour. Sex.

2. Be yourself. (Unless you’re boring. Then be somebody else): Tap into your “inner voice” while writing your blog. No, not the inner “voices” that tell you to eat a bucket of KFC in the Victoria’s Secret dressing room (sex), but write from your “truth,” your “Self,” your “innate being.” (I need to stop reading Deepak Chopra.) Sex.

(This man listens to the voices.)

3. Be SEO-Friendly: Invite SEOs over for dinner. Since they are running big companies, and are connected to the “little people” in their organizations, SEOs can offer great advice for creating content that is timely, fun and in high-demand. (Some SEOs can be real jerks. That’s okay. They can’t help it. Love them anyway. AAAARRRGGHH!! Damn you, Deepak!) Lots of sex.

4. Follow other bloggers: I must admit, I TOTALLY misunderstood this concept, and spent many hours in my car, camped in front of the home of one of my favorite bloggers. She finally called the police. But we all had a good laugh at the situation, and they sent me on my way. (Little did they know, I cut a lock of her hair when she wasn’t looking.)

(Every move you make, every step you take. . . .)

5. Use key words to attract the online audience: Sex.

Follow this advice, then sit back and watch your views increase incrementally!

Happy Retro Halloween!

Let’s travel back to 1975, when the world was less complicated and Halloween was a day-long sugar orgy. It was a simple holiday; I knock on your door–you give me candy.

Since then, Halloween has become a multi-million dollar business. Leave it to Americans to prostitute fear. And candy.

Costumes

1975: I’d open my costume box which consisted of a plastic mask with death-hole eye sockets and a plastic-tarp of a costume. Or I’d get a homemade princess costume. (And BTW, being a graceful princess is difficult when you have five layers of sweaters under your ball gown, making it look like you just ate a princess.)

(My Wonder Woman death mask.)

Now: You can purchase elaborate costumes all year long. They’re expensive, gory and (for females) crossing the border into Slutville. You can’t just be a princess. You have to be a branded princess–with a history and a back story, and a bustier.

Pumpkin Carving

1975: Before the cool carving kits, all we had was a paring knife and our imaginations. You could carve triangles, squares or circles. That was it. Most pumpkins looked either a) scary, b) startled, or c) mutilated. Someone was always accidentally stabbed.

Now: Pumpkin carving is an Olympic sport. Displays of sculpted pumpkins adorn porch stoops. Intricately designed pumpkins mock my basic smiley-faced squash.

(This never happened 40 years ago.)

Décor

1975: My mother taped Halloween pictures in the front window, and if she was going all out, she’d twist black and orange crepe paper across the window. We were a simple people in the ’70s.

Now: People invest big bucks in Halloween decorations. Front lawns display graveyards, witch covens, torture chambers and colossal spider webs. People spend more on Halloween décor than I spend for Christmas shopping.

(It’s beginning to look a lot like excess.)

School Parties

1975: Classroom parties consisted of four things. First, the Halloween parade where we’d dash through classrooms for fellow students and parents. Second, we’d play Halloween Bingo vying for a black and orange pencil. Third, we would decorate ONE pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie. (My cookie had more frosting and sprinkles than Ke$ha’s underwear drawer.)

Fourth, we would sit in a circle and sing Halloween songs. “Halloween Cat/ Halloween Cat/ Why do you mew and mew like that?/Neither I nor the moon/Like your tune/So SCAT! Halloween Cat” (I know. Pure poetry.)

Now: Schools are doing away with Halloween parties, parades, songs, and fun. What’s the point of going to school if you can’t dress up on Halloween? I’m predicting a rise in drop-out rates.

Trick-or-Treating

1975: Some kids used cute pumpkin buckets to beg for candy, but I had no qualms about looking like a greedy bastard when it came to getting my share of the Halloween booty. I grabbed a king-size pillowcase to gather my candy, never worrying I looked like a homeless Wonder Woman. Plus, the holiday was a night-long event where we’d travel the county looking for homes giving out whole candy bars.

Now: Sanitized versions of trick-or-treating have popped up all over the country. New rules consist of, “Only visit the neighbors we know,” “Stay off the freeway,” “Get home before 7 p.m.” and “Let’s all go as a family!” Babies.

And don’t get me started on Trunk-or-Treating.

Why Ringo Hates Halloween

(I am a good boy. A very good boy.)

Once upon a time, there was a crazy-ass dog named Ringo. Although his family loved him very much, Ringo was a neurotic freak, with a tendency to overreact to. . . well. . . basically everything. Along with canine-induced ADHD, Ringo also suffered from AAA (allergies, anxiety and arthritis), making him an itchy, nervous and crippled doggy companion.

One day, Ringo’s owner (Lady Peri of Kearns) was walking Ringo when, all of a sudden, giant Halloween inflatables popped up on the neighbor’s lawn–scaring the dog poop out of poor Ringo. Barking didn’t scare the scary inflatable spider away. Growling didn’t even phase it. But did that stop Ringo? NO! He growled and barked all the way down the street, turning around to make sure the spider knew he had caused Ringo MUCH anxiety.

(Someone needs a big can of Raid.)

The next day, Lady Peri decorated the house for Halloween. She placed pumpkins, ghosts, ghouls, skeletons, witches and other nightmare-causing props in strategic places–except Ringo was now afraid to come in the living room. He was convinced the witch’s cauldron was going to eat him–or at least take his chew toy. So Ringo jumped on the couch, growling softly, only leaving the safety of the couch cushions to eat. Or to glare in Lady Peri’s direction.

(I hate you, Lady Peri.)

When trick-or-treaters visited Ringo’s home, he went delirious with fear as Hulks, vampires, goblins and Miley Cyrus costumes paraded up and down the porch. Ringo hid behind the La-Z-Boy, hyperventilating into a doggish dementia. Turning to emotional eating, Ringo tried to steal chocolate bars from the big bowl o’ candy Lady Peri had left unattended.

Screeches, screaming, banshee wailing and loud moaning coming from the Halloween CD didn’t do anything to ease Ringo’s terror. His howling didn’t do anything to ease Lady Peri’s nerves.

Finally, the month of terror ebbed, leaving Ringo in a pile of furry panic. Lady Peri took down the bats and zombies, and the neighbors deflated their 6-foot inflatable spider. Ringo could breathe easy again. IMG_20130725_162409

Until the next day when the neighbor’s giant inflatable turkey appeared in the yard.

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