To Clean or Not to Clean... That is the Question

So lately I've been spending more and more time at the manfriend's house (having hoards of open free time will do that to you)... Here's the thing though - my man? Not so domestic. I know that men just don't have the eye for detail when it comes to cleanliness that women have, but how can they ignore Mt. Trash Can in the kitchen? And Soap Scum Paradise in the Bathroom? If my living space is not in harmony, I can't concentrate. I mean literally.

I. Cannot. Concentrate. At. All.

Which is why I spent the whole morning cleaning my man's kitchen rather than lounging and watching TV (like him) or sending out trillions of copies of my resume and cover letters. I just couldn't take it anymore!!!!! I couldn't take the film of yuck that layered his stove/floor/refrigerator/microwave. I couldn't take playing 'what's on the bottom of my sock' one more time after I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. I definitely couldn't take heating up a mug of hot chocolate in the microwave and wondering what grossness was left in the microwave to bake with it (yum! added flavor!)

But here's the thing. Have I stepped over a boundary by playing Cinderella today??? Should I have waited until he was inspired to do it himself and then praise him accordingly for doing it (much like how one praises a child for using the potty at the appropriate time)? I sure as shit don't want to take on The Nagging Girlfriend role, but then again, I don't want to have to wonder what exactly that... ewwwwwwww .... is on the floor either. Ah! Such a line to walk!

So today, as I was cleaning, I did the only thing I could think of: I berated him for being a filthy, dirty boy (in a total nonsexual way) and told him that he should be ashamed of his housecleaning skillz (yes. skillz.with a Z). I know. Super mature. I just couldn't help it. With every bucket of dirty water, resentment grew inside of me. I mean. COME ON. He's 30 years old! Is gainfully employed! Has lived on his own for at least a decade!

HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW HOW TO CLEAN UP AFTER HIMSELF?!?!?!

I'll tell you how. Women. Women from previous relationships. and even his own mother, have enabled him to go on without ever having to touch the Spic and Span. My brother is the same way - I honestly don't believe my brother would know how to dress himself without Cupcake (his girlfriend) at the helm of his closet.

Ladies, I think it's time that we teach our men how to fish instead of keep throwing them cans of tuna. Yes. It's going to be a hard, long war. Yes. We are going to have to overlook streaks on the mirrors, missed spots, and inappropriately folded laundry, but in the long run - it's for the best. Just think - after 20 or so years of training they'll be able to finally load the dishwasher, empty the garbage, and throw a load of laundry in just like we do EVERY FREAKING DAY without feeling taxed, over-worked, or slighted.

We can do this! All we have to do is band together and buckle down. Hoo Rah!

Who says...

Santa has to have milk with his cookies?

And yes. That is Breaking Dawn in the background. So what. 

As I poured myself a glass of wine and got some cookies to go with it (it is a dessert wine after all)... I wondered what Santa would do if he found some wine and cookies instead of the usual milk (skim, 1%, whole?) and baked goodies. I believe that Santa would relish in the diversity of the arrangement and slurp that wine down with his pinky held high in a sophisticated manner. :) 

So as 2010 comes to a close, I hope that you all appreciate the traditions around you, but have enough wits  to realize that traditions are only important to us because of the meaning behind them... and if a particular tradition is chaffing you the wrong way, (christmas dinner has to have 5 cup salad... if not, everyone will just DIE so I'm going to drive myself crazy to make it) ditch it, and make a new one. Yeah, your family might gripe a bit because the 5 cup salad isn't at the table, but will definitely appreciate a happier, calmer you in its place. 

P.S. I drank the wine swiftly and can now feel its hold on me... hopefully what I just wrote makes sense... all I can say is, if not, pour yourself some tasty spirits, wait a few moments, and reread this blog... hopefully it will all snap together with some libations. 

Merry Merry

Zimtsterne

No friends. I did not have stroke. The subject title of this blog is in honor of one of my dear german friends who taught me how to make cinnamon stars (or Zimtsterne for all of those in the know) this year. And they are delicious. So yay!!! and woot woot! and such.

Now that I have your attention - I have a question. Would someone please explain to me why shopping carts have flimsy little wheels on them??? Especially in locales that get hoards of snow and slush and other weather unpleasantness? May I suggest that shopping carts should come equipped with all terrain tires with at least some semblance of tread on them.... I mean, yeah. I get it. Shopping carts are primarily used inside. The land of tiled floors and smooth terrain (ta da!) but let's think for a second, shall we, about what happens when we discover that our car is in fact parked outside. In the Icy Tundra. At the end of the parking lot. Which is filled with crazy moving vehicles, crazy frantic people, and crazy short-tempered me. and not in a weather shielded, tiled floor Eden???

I'll tell you what happens. A horrible game of Ice Frogger (or Rain Frogger or Slippery Fall Leaves Frogger or Blinded-By-The-Sun Frogger - the last one has nothing to do with the wheels on the cart, but is just maybe an explanation as to why my retinas put up a fight every time I head to the grocery store). I love going to the store to come out and be presented with a "Cosmic Challenge" (not!).

Do the managers of these grocery stores take pleasure in seeing women struggle with shopping carts that have the steering capabilities of of hot air balloon on a windy day????? I can only assume yes, because if not, I wouldn't have to take my life in my hands when I am forced to participate in the Metal Death Ballet with a full shopping cart. So as you make your many trips to the market to gather toys and festive foods for your loved ones, I wish you God Speed and Good Luck. May you be the Prima Ballerina in the Metal Death Ballet and come out of the experience victoriously clutching your ripened bananas as if they were an Olympic Gold Medal!



In other news, I have graduated from Advil to 'for real pain killers' for my back (yay). Last week, I spent most of my time on my back and legs elevated (DIRTY! Get your filthy minds out of the gutters) to alleviate the pressure on my spine (which was helping) only to be taken down by fate yesterday. I finally left my house to go out to breakfast, and upon returning, fell down a few outside stairs (wooden - not concrete THANK GOD). So today, I am sporting lovely bruises on my arse, back of my thighs and arms, and ego. I still blame the wii for killing me in the first place. The stairs were just karma's way of saying... HAHA we forgot how much fun it was to see you in pain!

The good news is that the 'for real pain killers' have been causing quite colorful dreams. I mean, really. Do you think it would be possible to dream of a world made totally out of corn without them???????? Oh yeah, Lovelies. I said it. Corn. I had corn shoes in this dream. I lived in a corn house. The clouds were in beautiful fluffy corn shapes What an amazingly buttery and delicious dream. *sigh*

The happy pills have also caused:

• Bouts of extreme sleepiness.
• The need to proclaim my undying love to EVERYONE in my phone's contact book... including, but not limited to: people that I do not in fact love or have spoken to in quite some time. WOMP
• An unparalleled ability to sing (or think I can sing. christmas carols. at the top of my lungs. in front of people)
• Me to say yes to future outings and events that I would NEVER have agreed to go to or participate in if I were not hopped up on 'the juice'.
• And lastly, the urge to say phrases like "no huh!" and "you're a butthead" and "why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why!?!?!" when I don't get my way. (super classy. I know.)

And then I wonder why I'm single. :)

Alright. Time to go. There's much laying with elevated legs and hallucinating to be done.

 Happy Monday!

P.S. If you would like the recipe for Zimtsterne, click below

My Neck. My Back. My neck and my back.

Let's give it up for the Friday reference. Yay!

So the last time we spoke, I was brainwashed by Snookie (thank god there is a spray to get rid of that!) and killing myself on the wii fit plus... Well today, I'm smelling of fabulous Icy Hot (it's the new 'now' scent for this Unemployed Diva) and have been bedridden for the past 2 days. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why. Because my wii board is a sadistic bastard who broke my back that's why. :(

Yesterday started off as any other normal day. I woke up, went pee (yes, I went there) and as I was walking back to my bedroom to get ready to wii fit, I thought to myself, "Hey! These socks you are wearing are not a safe choice! You could slip! And fall! And crack your head open! And without health insurance - none of those things sound like something that you want to participate in." So, I simultaneously reach down and bring my leg up to take my right sock off and POP! Goes my back. Then comes the excruciating pain. I almost collapsed in my hallway it hurt so badly. I steadied myself and gimped back to my bedroom.

Ready for the funny part??? The funny thing is that I thought I could just walk off my POP! and would be fine to continue what I had originally set out to do... exercise with wii fit.

HAHAHAHAHA!

I know.

I laughed too (through the tears of pain at how insane I was to even consider it exercising). I even bent over to pick up the wii board to place it in prime exercise floor space... Well let me tell you. After picking it up, another round of excruciating pain racked through my body, and because I couldn't fathom putting the wii board down (because bend = ouchie ouchie owie owie boo hoo), I walked, with the wii board still clutched in arms, over to my bed and collapsed.

And that's how my past 2 days have gone. Bedridden. Barely able to move (I couldn't even lay on my stomach because it hurt even to breathe). Smelling of Icy Hot. And popping Advil like tic tacs (and if you knew me, you'd know that I HATE taking pills. HATE! IT! Swallowing something whole just grosses me out and causes my gag reflex to go into overdrive. Have you ever heard the expression "choking something down"? Well that's me anytime I have to take pills or eat yogurt... I literally choke it down).

Anyway. So there goes my wii fit training (damn hula hoops and marching in a parade and fun balloon adding game and jogging). I'll be lucky if I can walk by next week... let alone Just Dance to the Jackson 5 and Katy Perry... The upside of all of this is that by being incapacitated, I have not been able to make any trips to the kitchen - meaning that I have eaten nothing but random things I can reach... i.e. Snooki's pistachios, bottles of water, a pear, some pretzel chips, and a pudding cup.I can feel myself getting thinner by the moment! Perhaps this is all part of the wii fit training -  starvation portion control and debilitating injuries lots of exercise with rest after.

Tomorrow I'm hoping to be able to actually get out of bed.... If not, anyone want to be my nurse?

O to the M to the G!

So the other day I went grocery shopping... I bought the usual fruits, veggies, fresh meats, some dairy and tried my best to stay on the outer perimeter of the store (all the evil processed food lives in the 7th circle of hell aisles. The closer you get to the center of the store, the more evil and tempting the food... It's where the chocolate covered pretzels and soda live, after all.) I didn't think anything of the groceries I bought until I got home and perched myself in front of the tv.

A commercial for pistachios with Snooki as the spokesperson came on... 

I immediately whipped my head toward the kitchen with my eyes opened wide (like 'there's mysterious footsteps coming up from the basement' opened wide). Sitting in my pantry are the exact pistachios that Snooki was hocking on the tv.

WHAAAAAAAT?

Guys. I think I have been brainwashed by Snooki. I haven't bought pistachios in a hot minute - let alone a $13 bag that I could've gotten for much less at Costco or Sam's Club... I don't even remember putting them in my cart! Oh god. I'm one of Snooki's minions now. I can almost feel the pouf growing and my pale Irish skin getting more orange by the second.  Help me!!!! I. Can't. Fight. The. Urge. To. Fist. Pump. Much. Longer. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In other news, I bought a Wii Fit Plus and Just Dance 2 the other day (so that I could fist pump to my heart's content no doubt) and let me tell you - they kicked my ass. After being a Pussy Cat Doll, a master hula hooper, ninja, and Avril Lavigne's back-up dancer, I can barely walk and/or bend over and/or sit in an upright position comfortably. Who knew that standing on a little board while gyrating and waving your arms could almost kill you??? I surely didn't.

Owie! Owie! Ouch!

It does burn so good though. :) Gotta burn off all of those christmas cookies and holiday treats somehow... Keep your fingers crossed because I think tomorrow I might regain the ability to bend over and put on my socks! Yay!

 

Happy Monday!

Help Me!!!!

Celebrities have invaded my dreams!!!!!

So I was all geared up and ready to write a blog about family and holidays and trying to not take a left on a bridge when it should be the happiest season, but after writing the initial paragraph, I wasn't into it. Not that I'm not into holidays and crazy family stories (read: crazy family and stories about them, not just fun little things that have happened to my sane, normal, and totally not-asking-for-it family. My family asks for it like a homeless person asks for change), but for some reason celebrities invading my dreams sparked more motivation in me (go figure).

So let's discuss my dream shall we? 

Setting: Just an open expanse - think empty warehouse or stage area. All of the players (myself included) are sitting/standing  in a loose circle (think group therapy session circle minus the yucky too-small-for-my-butt chairs). We are stranded in this 'place' which feels like an abyss. It's just us, a gray (or grey) expanse, and some random wingback chairs, cushy leather chairs, stools, and an oriental rug (god my brain knows how to tie a room together).

Lighting: The place is well lit, but there aren't any lamps or overhead lights that I can visibly see as being a light source. It's like radiant light from off in the distance, only more office sunset if that makes ANY sense. Don't feel bad if it doesn't. Someone long ago told me that I speak my own language, and that most of the time she has to translate my words, sounds, and hand gestures into an actual sentence... I guess when I talk it's more like a giant game of charades, but with sound and words clues. I'm an acquired taste, what can I say?

Cast: Christina Aguilera, Aretha Franklin, Kit Kittredge (from that movie that I'm pretty sure NO ONE saw - including myself so I'm a little confused how she ended up there...), Clay Aiken, one of the Darrins from Bewitched (the one everyone liked... not the guy at the end that everyone thought was an ass), and Alec Baldwin

Let's pause right here for a moment to discuss the insanity that is my brain... WTF. Really??? First of all, I don't even watch American Idol. I have never been and will never be a 'Claymate' (I just shuddered and gagged a little just typing it). So how in the sam hill did he mosey his way into my dream????? Kit Kittredge??? I had to google that stupid movie just learn what it was about, who was in it, and how to spell Kittredge... um. Which by the way - in my brain - Kit was played by Emma Roberts not Abigail Breslin (sorry for the cast change Abby. I'm sure you did a great job in real life). Interestingly enough though, after reading wikipedia, I found out that Julia Roberts (Emma Robert's aunt for those of you in the not-know) was one of the producers of the movie... huh? huh? my brain pieced the connection together!!! I'm psychic!!!!!!!!! ok. or just psycho. Sad Face. 

Now back to the set up...

Plot: So as everyone is sitting/standing, I look around and see Christina Aguilera and Aretha Franklin (Christina standing. Aretha sitting on a throne-like chair) arguing. At first, I think they are arguing over who is the best vocalist or performer, but as I tune in, I learn that it is really about a bowl of M&Ms. Peanut ones. Christina wants to hold the bowl and Aretha, who has the bowl in her lap, won't give it up.

Darrin, from Bewitched, is looking around and over his shoulders. He's a paranoid one, that guy is. He won't sit down. He is standing kind of off from the circle wringing his hands together and shoulders hunched forward. I guess after all of those years of Endora just popping in and crazy shit happening, he's a little jumpy. Poor guy.

Alec Baldwin is walking around the inside of the circle (on my precious rug!!!!) shaking everyone's hands and saying, "Hi! I'm a Baldwin. Alec Baldwin. Not to be confused with Stephen, Billy, or Daniel. Those are my brothers. But we're all Baldwins. I'm Alec Baldwin. Not to be confused with...." and so on and so on. I thought, "Damn! He is hot on tv. Shame that he is a schlep in real life." Sigh.

I look to my left and see Kit (played by Emma Roberts) standing at attention with one arm in the air pointing to nothing shouting, "Let's Go! We Have To Save The Day! Come On Gang! Daylight's A Wastin'! Offfff Weeeee Gooooooooo!" I have no idea if this was in the trailer of the movie or makes any sense with who the character is, but that's my brain... Now I feel like I have to Netflix the movie just so I can see if it is better or worse than my imagination.

And what about Clay Aiken, you ask?? Well let me tell you!

Clay Aiken. The second place American Idol Contestant (Aw... whatever happened to Reuben????), accomplished (haha) Broadway Performer, and media looney toon is twirling. That's right, lovelies. I said TWIRLING. Doing graceful ballet moves around the circle while wearing those ballet tights (complete with ball thing to make his junk more pronounced... Yes. I looked. So sue me.Actually. Don't sue me. I'm unemployed. I'm on a fixed income. Suing me would not be very nice. But yes. I did look at a Clay Aiken's ballet tighted junk.) He's prancing and leaping and is SHIRTLESS! Oh. My. God.

It's at this point that I wake up. It's at this point that I say out loud, What. The. Fuck. Was. That. !?!?! It's at this point that I notice that my tv is on with the Netflix screen up. As I look at the screen, I realize that 30 Rock episode 22 of season 3 just played. Not familiar with that episode? Well let me enlighten you. Jack (Alec Baldwin!!!!), begins to bond with Milton, his dad. Milton needs a kidney. Jack doesn't want to give it to him (and finds out that he is not a match), so he calls every favor he has in to arrange a "We Are the World"esque benefit concert... So all of these celebrities are there and sing a hilarious song about donating a kidney. Guess who's in the group?!?! None other than Clay Aiken........ I'll give you moment to digest it all.

...

...

...

I know! It's messed up. I still have no idea where Kit, Darrin, Christina, or Aretha came from, but at least I have some clue as to how this CRAZY dream came about. Damn! I need to stop eating chocolate and watching Netflix before I go to bed. What would have happened if I had accidentally switched on the Auschwitz documentary that I have been meaning to watch?????????? I could have seriously injured my psyche!! Without insurance right now, mental health care is somewhat of a luxury. Wow! That was a close one!

Note to self: do not have Netflix on before bedtime. Just. Say. No.


Happy Friday!