Tag Archives: musings

A Good Night for a Drunk Run

17 Apr

I shouldn’t really say I update on Wednesdays if I’m not going to get off my rear and post before midnight, right?

I was off my rear, though. I’ve been off my ass since 7 this morning; I just wasn’t typing. Typing has, however, been the only thing I’m doing every other day of the week, all the time, always. I have had so many papers due for school in the last few days that I’m not sure there are any more thoughts in my brain.

For those of you just recently joining the jackie show, it would be helpful for you to know that I am currently enrolled in a dual masters program while also employed to pay the ba-dillios.

Those are bills. Ba-dillios are bills.

So anyway, I’ve been a little busy. But good busy. I’m happy busy. I’m just also out of things to say that are worth saying. Sometimes I stare at the screen for an hour and nothing gets written. Last week, I wrote a paper 3 different times because the first two attempts were a total fail.

I am not failing, however, at my 365. We’re rolling up to the 1/3 mark for my fitness 365, wherein I resolved to do something active for at least 20 minutes a day and have since conquered two Jillian Michaels DVDs and almost finished training for a 5K. No, I’m rocking that party hard. Allow me to regale you with a glimpse of Jackie Present (that is to say the current Jackie who is motivated and no-excuses and trapped by her own very public announcement to not fail or make excuses.)

It was yesterday. I woke at 7am to try to finish a research paper due that night, I went to work, I came home, I tried to finish the research paper again, I went to class late and turned it in, went back home to start a research paper due the next day (idiot) and instead decided to go celebrate my hard work by attending Dave’s open mic.

There, I had a few drinks in the fashion and manner typical of a classy lady. And just when I had almost freed my cares from thoughts of finals and writing and taxing schedules, I realized: I hadn’t run yet.

It was 2am.

You see, I specifically set up my 5K training program (wherein I transform from human Cheez-It disposal to competent jogger in several weeks) so that my final day of training is the day of the race and the first official time I actually run 5 english semi-miles. That means that if I skip a day, I am seriously in danger of being unable to achieve my goal. And if I fail to achieve the 5k, I seriously endanger my ability to finish the 10K in September, thereby bringing my 365 to a dramatic and successful semi-conclusion to ride the home stretch into the end of the year.

It’s an elaborate and volatile plan and my sudden decision to enjoy a few classy lady drinks was putting it in danger. So I ordered several coffees like a champ, left the bar at 3:30am, and went home to put on my running gear.

And proceeded to run. Semi-sobered and exhausted, I launched my flailing limbs across the great pavement plains of my neighborhood. Also, I brought Dave. He’s the best.

I came home, thoroughly pleased with myself and thoroughly exhausted at the realization that I had been up for nearly 24 hours, fell asleep in a pile of sweet satisfaction, and fell asleep until the next afternoon.

When I woke, I celebrated with chocolate. And hot dogs. It was a slippery slope; I’m now cuddled up in bed with an empty plate of pizza to my right and staring at the bottom of a bag of chocolates I’ve just obliterated.

A girl’s entitled to a little visit to Fat Jackie’s Paradise as a proper celebration, isn’t she? Maybe not. But I’m doing it anyways. Leave me alone.

So listen: to all the ducklings attempting The Gauntlet 30 Day Challenge right now, you’re about halfway through. If there hasn’t been a day like this already, there soon will be: you’re going to have a day when your schedule spirals out of control and before you know it, you’re holed up in some bar somewhere, drinking in celebration of your dedication only to find you’ve failed to remember to do your 30 Day Challenge activity.

And when that happens, you’re going to have to suck it up and go drunk running at 4am. Or work to better your small business. Or read a new book. Or cook a challenging meal. Or apply to a job. Or whatever it is you crazy kids are doing out there.

Oh, and congratulations. You’re halfway to being filled to the brim with awesome sauce.

Puppies and Sprinkles,

Jackie ♣

Oh. I couldn’t find a picture appropriate for this so instead here’s a picture of a human feeling up a cat. Warning: Not suitable for work.

cat

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Me and Miss Bojangles

10 Apr

bojangles cute

If you were avoiding my blog posts because they were all about The Gauntlet and, like church on Sunday, you stayed away for fear of true conviction, I have good news: it’s over for now. Business as usual until further notice.

So I went ahead and got myself a puppy. I’d like to talk about it.

Well, it’s not my puppy. It’s my neighbor’s puppy. They’re going away for a while and are going to need someone to dog sit. As many of you know, I have a serious puppy problem. I want a dog very badly but for several responsible adult reasons, I have avoided the urge to adopt one (no money, no yard, no time). In the meantime, I have nursed my desire in other, somewhat unhealthy ways. For example, I fantasize about opening up my own Puppy Amusement Park. Also, I stalk them when I’m out for a jog. Frequently I will talk to them through cages at dog adoption events all about our futures together while crying tears of hope married with shame. 

For all these reasons and more, I’m glad to be all set up to dog sit in several weeks and that I have a lot of time to plan out her stay with me. Oh yes, the dog is female. And as is The Jackie Blog standard, names are changed to protect the innocent. Henceforth we’ll call her Miss Bojangles. 

Miss Bojangles will be staying with me for quite a few days. Puppy fever sets in pretty heavy in the springtime because a lot of glorious furballs are out for a walk and it can be really easy to forget that dogs are money-gobbling, excreting, puking, whimpering pains in the ass when they look so cute and happy in the sunshine. This is why I need some quality time with Miss Bojangles.  She’s got big ol’ Basset Hound eyes and jowls so big you could hide jars of jam in them. I have plenty of time to soak up that adorable, droopy face while simultaneously being reminded that trying to coordinate a drive-by to the apartment every 5 hours to tend to her bodily functions is an inconvenient, gas-guzzling, never-ending truth. 

It will be good for me. Like puppy boot camp.

I’m taking note of things I’ve always wanted a dog for so that I can take full advantage of them while I’m dogsitting. Mostly, that means I plan to carelessly drop a lot of food on the ground while I’m cooking. And to encourage her to chase Hobbes around in the hopes that the sight Miss Bojangles’ flappy, wavering jowls chasing him will inspire a few pounds of fat to be exorcised from his fat, fleeing body. And walks. There will be lots of walks.  If she weren’t so old, I’d put a reflective puppy vest on her and bring her running with me.  

I may or may not include the use of public puppy parks where I may or may not pretend that her name is really Miss Bojangles and that I am her owner.

Of course I have my concerns. Like that she’ll eat my cats while I’m away, or take an enormous dump in the middle of my living room out of homesickness or that when it’s time to give her back to my neighbors, I’ll  instead rent an RV and go cross country with her, claiming that we were always meant to be together and that no one can understand our love.

Then again I can’t really afford an RV at this time in my life. So I guess we’ll have to steal one. Which I guess would make Miss Bojangles an accomplice. Which is pretty great since I’ve already hooked her up with an awesome criminal name.

 

Come to think of it, I’m going to need a decent criminal name myself. And a good article on how to hot-wire an RV. And probably some disguises for our getaway.

Good thing I’ve got a good head start. 

costume♣

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You’re Gonna Miss the Train

3 Apr
This is the awesome train. It's leaving soon.

This is the awesome train. It’s leaving soon.

I’m sure that you thought since we’ve passed April 1, I’m going to leave you alone about the whole Gauntlet thing.

But I’m not.

This is my last chance to convince you that in 30 days you could be better at something you suck at, proud of your progress, and filled with hope for a future full of sunshine and unicorns.

You know this. You’ve heard this. And there’s something already on your mind that you might try but you’ve filled your head with excuses, tried to talk yourself out of it, and generally been a big, sucky baby. Haven’t you? You big, sucky baby.

I was a big sucky baby once. Actually, I still am. It’s why every once in a while I still get out for a good old fashioned Lollipop Tuesday. In fact, I have something incredibly embarrassing and pee-inducing coming up this week.  And then after that I have to run a 5K. And then after that I have to run a 10K.

These things are not easy for me. They’re not easy for lots of people. Everyone is working, not getting enough sleep, needs more time to relax, and all those other things that get in the way of taking care of your own needs and desires. Let me assure you that even though I’m in the midst of a fitness-related 365, every day is a challenge. The good news is that all you have to do is 30. And even though the intrinsic rewards should be plenty to make you feel like it was worth your time, I’m throwing in the chance to win a $100 Visa Gift Card just for participating. 

Today’s shout out for joining The Gauntlet goes to Georgia’s Bath Products, who has decided to spend a little bit of time every day for 30 days doing something to improve her small business. That’s pretty fantastic. You can follow her journey here. Or you can just drop by and tell her how awesome she is.

In addition to Georgia, I’ve had people contact me to share stories of their challenges and the ways they’re going to get involved. They include:

  • Reading every single day to help conquer a pile of books that have accumulated on the wish list but have never gotten lovin’
  • Writing of all shapes and sizes – novels, paragraphs, blogs, poems… Did you know April is National Poem Writing Month, also known as NaPoWriMo? How perfectly aligned this all is. 
  • Fitness, fitness, fitness. This comes in a variety of forms – yoga, stress relieving activities, doses of sunshine – people everywhere are using The Gauntlet as a good excuse to take care of themselves and see what sticks after one month.
  • Job hunting.  What a great idea, right? If you’re unhappy with your current money-making situation, why not do one thing every day to better it? People are vowing to browse job boards every day, apply for jobs and internships, and work on projects that will better their positions in the workplace.

So what’s the thing nagging you? Is it a house that needs spring cleaning? Is it a project that’s sat in the corner of your room forever? Is it something you’ve been all-talk and no-walk about for an embarrassingly long time?

The Gauntlet was set up so that you could easily start April 1st and end April 30th, with over a week to spare to contact me to tell me you completed it. But you can start any time. And you can start up until April 9th and still be on board for the $100 Visa gift card and a host of other folks supporting your endeavor out there in the blogosphere.

So comment below or click that link on the top of the page or on the right sidebar that lead to the rules and deadlines for The Gauntlet. Drop a line about what you’re going to commit to, or find your favorite form of social media and tell me there. Use #TheGauntlet for me to find you on the Twitter Machine.

This is my last push for The Gauntlet – next week I won’t be trying to convince you of anything. I’ll be talking about my cats or something. And hopefully you’ll be 1/4 of the way toward being infinitely more awesome.

By the way, once upon a time I was a big fat whiny baby with a lot of excuses who ate a lot of pizza and didn’t get any physical activity aside from walking from my front door to my car. And then I logged into Sparkpeople yesterday and was greeted by this:

sparkpeople update

 

You know, just saying. Progress can only happen if you start. 

Peace out, kids. I hope to hear from you. And thanks for all your cheerleading thus far. ♣

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Board the Awesome Train

28 Mar

There is no room in your brain for new content from me today. 

Because it should be filled to the brim with ideas for how you might best conquer The Gauntlet.

That’s right: The Gauntlet. I told you all I wanted to have a contest wherin I give you an incentive to better yourself from the lazy pile of slop that you are now by bribing you with American dollars. I polled you about how you’d best like to be challenged and you said I should  incentivize you to a 30 Day Challenge. I threw down The Gauntlet, gave it a hashtag, announced the rules and prize, and set you about brewing up a plan.

Have you been brewing?

I’ll tell you about some of the people who have been. There’s Samantha Owens, who feels like she needs to relax, balance, and organize her brain.  She’s going to knock those out by doing yoga every day for 30 days. She blogged about her throwdown here. There’s also Grace Bell, who is pregnant, achy, and having trouble getting enough time outdoors. She’s afraid that as she gets more pregnant and more achy, she’ll just be more and more unlikely to go out.  So for 30 days in a row, she’s committed to getting 20-30 minutes of time outside her house.  To make sure she sticks to her guns, she even dedicated an entire page of her blog to it so that she can give regular updates, and others can give her regular encouragement. Follow her journey here. 

Everyone has different goals, is at different places, and needs different things. So pick just one little sucky thing about yourself and see what happens when you battle it head on every day for thirty days. Maybe you need to improve your physical, emotional, or financial health. Maybe you need to get more sun. Maybe you need to find more time with your kids or read more often or be more creative. Whatever. You can start any time, but the timing is such that you can easily start April 1st, end April 30th, and then still have several days to submit your entry. That means you still have plenty of time to cook something up and go for it. While you’re working all those cobwebs out of your brain, go check out Samantha’s and Grace’s attempts at awesomeness.

I want to do my part, too. So here are a few tips to get you started and keep you going. If you’ve been following for even a short amount of time, you know that I struggle.  I frequently finish my day to find that my underwear was inside out all along, I take on too much with too little time, and I will always prefer a box of 50 Munchkins alone in my bed to going outside my apartment. A gal like me doesn’t conquer a challenge without some built-in motivators. So here’s some lovin’.

1) Use The Gauntlet Rules & Discussion Page 

If you direct your pupils to the right side of this page, you’ll see an enormous Gauntlet. If you click it, you’ll go to a magical page buried deep in the recesses of this site that lists the official rules, deadlines, and has a section for comments where you can discuss your own progress and connect with others. Go, read, encourage and be encouraged.

2) Make a Motivation Board 

Nothing like staring at the several measures of my fatness to get me moving.

Nothing like staring at the several measures of my fatness to get me moving.

I have no patience. I can’t even wait for people to finish their sentences so I have to refrain from finishing them. It’s a serious and chronic issue. So as one might imagine, I don’t like to wait for results. To help ease my anxiety and keep me looking forward, I made a motivation board and threw it on the back of my bedroom door. I house all sorts of information there, like before/after pictures, weight and measurement tracking, current workout programs, an envelope full of rewards, and a current short-term goal. On days when I don’t feel like working out, I look at the board, stare at the before and after, remind myself of the short-term goal, and think about the beautiful rewards in that envelope that I can draw from when I complete it. You can make this for any challenge; a motivator board can be made of inspirational pictures and quotes or a calendar where you cross off your accomplishments, or post interesting articles.  It’s whatever you want it to be and it can be your most helpful tool in this process.

3) Tell a Bunch of People

It makes all the difference in the world to know you’re accountable. I frequently want to back out of things after I sign up for them so I try to talk about them as much as possible. On difficult days, the embarrassment of writing a post about how I gave up is enough of a motivator to get me moving. Do whatever works for you; post on Facebook, throw it on Twitter, email a friend with progress updates – whatever you need to do. 

4) Get Inspired

If you need some motivation, tweet at me. Email me. Go to The Gauntlet page and talk to others. Look up articles about what you’re doing, about other people doing 30 Day Challenges – about anything. 

5) Freaking Do It Already

The whole point is to stop  making excuses and accept that there are ordinary people with regular struggles just like you all over the place doing more than you are with what they were given. Someone out there wakes up earlier than you, goes to bed later than you, and has more responsibilities than you who isn’t using those things as excuses. This is an experiment.  You’re not committing to a year.   You’re committing to 30 Days. Every single day, for 30 Days. What’s stopping you?

So that’s the deal, ladies and gents. The next time you hear from me, you will almost be out of time to join the challenge. Remember to let me know what you’re up to by tagging #TheGauntlet on Twitter, emailing me at jackiemarie@gmail.com, or commenting on The Gauntlet’s page. 

After all…I just signed up for my first 5K. Don’t leave me hangin’ here. ♣

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The Gauntlet

20 Mar

gauntlet

The time has come, the walrus said, for you to do something with your damn self.

Actually, the walrus wanted to talk about many things like shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings. But I want to talk about you. And how it’s go time.

I’m throwing down The Gauntlet.

Let’s start with the nitty gritty, for those of you just tuning in. In 2011, I launched a 365 Project and vowed to post every day of the year. All I wanted was to accomplish a resolution and point to a black and white goal to say I achieved it, but in the process I became an accidental advocate of 365 Projects for how the deliberate, applied effort at something over the course of time can help you eliminate excuses, set yourself up for success, and get you closer to your goals. Because the postaday challenge in 2011 did so many wonderful things for me (even though I hated it very, very much, very, very often), I decided to use 2013 to do another 365 Project. I’ve dubbed it Project Fatass 365 and have vowed to work out every single day for at least 20 minutes, culminating in a 10K at the end of the year.

To put things in perspective, I used to eat an entire Freschetta pizza and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s after dinner. With no shame. At my lowest point, I hid delivery boxes of pizza under my bed and went unshowered for several days while encasing myself in a protective layer of lard.

So I’m about 1/4 of the way through my second 365, and I’m feeling pretty frisky. A few weeks ago, I told you all I was in the mood to issue a reader challenge and asked you what you would prefer: A Lollipop Tuesday Challenge or a 30 Day Challenge. Much to my surprise, 60% of you were willing to participate in a 30 Day Challenge, and 40% a Lollipop Tuesday Challenge.

Really? Most of you would rather do something for thirty days in a row with no cheating than go do one daring thing in thirty days? I find that surprising. And impressive. So I give you: The Gauntlet.

Here’s the skinny, kids. I’ve posted the rules below and will later add them to the right hand side of the page for easy access. Check them out. Complete before midnight, EST on May 10th (that’s 11:59:59 EST on May 9th, people) for the chance to win a $100 Visa Gift Card.

That’s money. That’s real money. Shoes or food or a puppy or anything at all can be yours. You can focus on the intrinsic rewards of becoming a more awesome person, less of a pathetic weakling, and acquiring a far superior set of conversation topics, but it might help to picture the puppy around Day 15.

Oh, and of course I’ll feature the winner in a post about how awesome they are here on The Jackie Blog in May.

So that’s the deal. I wrote a blog post every single day for 365 days in a row and now I’m agonizing to Jillian Michaels workouts every day for 365 days in a row. Lets see what you can do over there on your end in 30. I’ll bet it’s spectacular.

I’m so looking forward to this. You’ll be beautiful, I just know it. ♣

The Gauntlet

1) Think of the thing that you sincerely suck at that you want to improve. It may be writing, being physically active, spending more time with your family, reading, cooking – whatever.

2) Identify one thing you can do every day that will get you closer to that goal. Examples: to get better at writing, write for X amount of time every day or X amount of pages every day. To get more physically active, commit to X number of minutes working out each day. To be a better cook, commit to cook a full meal at home every single day. You can take photos, call people, create things – the world is your oyster. But pick something measurable. At the end of the day, you should be able to clearly state that you either did or did not complete your activity that day. No gray areas.

3) Conquer the monster. 30 Days in a row, no cheating. 30 Days. No. Cheating. We take the honor system very seriously here.

4) Share your experience and any related pictures or evidence with me in 1000 words or less via email at jackiemarie@gmail.com with the subject line: 30 DAY CHALLENGE. You can either email me about your experience directly, or post about your experience on another platform and email me the link. Deadline: Before midnight, EST on May 10th, 2013 (that’s 11:59:59 EST on May 9th, folks).

5) Winner will be determined by degree of sheer awesomeness and win a $100 Visa Gift Card and a feature on The Jackie Blog. Good luck!

Tell me how it’s going on Facebook, or on Twitter using hashtag #TheGauntlet (@thejackieblog). I’d love to encourage you. Or openly mock you. But mostly encourage you.

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I Am Adult; Hear Me Roar.

13 Mar

Tonight I had a bit of a chocolate craving and I didn’t want to give in so instead I went out for frozen yogurt and then bought 5 bags of M&Ms and ate 3 of them.

It happens.  I don’t like it, but it happens.

I still have to do the last day of Level 3 from Ripped in 30 tonight, so right when I’m going in and out of Table Top and my triceps are screaming bloody murder and the pot of jelly I store in my belly is rattling around on top of my human table, I will certainly regret this.

Oh, and there’s a string cheese wrapper right beside me too, I just realized, so I guess I ate that too.  I must have trance-chomped that to death. Add that to the jelly pot as well.

Roar.

Roar.

I’m having one of those days where I don’t want to do anything but I have a lot to do so I only pick the things that are fun and leave the rest “for later”.   That means that in a few days when I’m really under the wire, I’ll slam out all the things I have to do like super woman and then retire to play video games as a reward until I pass out in a pile of my slobber and Doritos crumbs. When I wake, I will question my ability parent another human being in the future.

For example, I needed to do laundry today. Like, really needed to.  Like, wearing my last pair of even remotely acceptable underwear needed to. Tomorrow I’ll have to wear a skirt and keep a no-underwear secret all day, fashion a new pair out of some scrap fabric, go to the store to get more underwear, or go out tonight after Jillian Michaels, get cash from an ATM, go to the store and get quarters, and then come home and do laundry.

Instead of doing any of those things, I’m watching Pretty in Pink. Poor Molly Ringwald and her thrift shop taste. If she only knew that a few decades later, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis would validate her opinions on secondhand clothing and rich schoolboy Blaine’s friends would find her quirky and cool in a topical sort of way.

I also need to do the dishes.  I’ve been neglecting them for so long that they are starting to develop a funk. I will continue to neglect them until I am unable to feed myself without first washing dishes. Then I will curse my childish ways, wish I would maintain a stricter dishwashing regimen before they get overwhelming, and again question my ability to parent another human being in the future.

My days are full of self-doubt. Underwear and clean dishes and trying to eat less than 5 bags of M&Ms a day: adulthood is a high calling.

Well, now I’ve put it out there.  I’ve just pushed it into the magical world of the Interwebz and now I look like a big, unambitious sloppity slop.  I feel all accountable and whatnot.  So here it goes – I’m going to close this laptop, do Jillian Michaels, get so angry from my jelly belly and her constant yelling in my face that I take out my rage on the tower of dishes in the kitchen, and then I will clean the house until I find enough quarters in the cracks and crevices of my hermit nest to do a proper load of laundry.  

And tomorrow I will wear my clean underwear and eat off my clean dishes and rub my less gelatinous stomach in pride.

I am Jackie. Hear me roar. ♣

P.S. I’ll soon announce the details of the 30 Day Challenge or the Lollipop Tuesday challenge for you all to take part in. I’ll also announce a prize related to said contest. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go here to read more and vote on which adventure you would prefer. Polls close soon.  Try not to pee yourself with excitement. If you have any questions, I’ll be in the kitchen.

 

 

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I Fought the Law and the Law Didn’t Win

6 Mar

Happy Lollipop Tuesday, my dearest dearies. I so adore you all that I’ve decided to go to a gig with Dave, whip open my laptop, and tell you about a time that scared me out of my wits instead of socializing with humanity. Because right now I’m having trouble with a big girl decision I recently made. I decided to try to do something very difficult and it’s scary and adult and since those sort of things make me want to curl up in a ball with a block of cheese and a bucket of hot fudge, I thought I’d instead open up this laptop and be reminded that I am the creator of Lollipop Tuesdays and I shall not be daunted by the great open plain of adulthood. After all, I have gone to a pole-dancing class and reenacted The Battle of Manassas and competed in the World Pinball Championship. I shall remind myself that even though I’m scared to death to go outside every single day, I do it because by golly, my resume reads like an adventurous person and I do therefore I am, dammit.

So let’s talk about the time I decided to represent myself in court.

Oh! Happy Lollipop Tuesday ladies and gentlemen.

Once upon a time I worked at a fudge factory. I know that sounds ridiculous but it’s true. I was the office manager and I signed sheets for people that read “fudge packer” because that was literally their job and I tried every day to be mature about the whole thing. But then they kind of lost some money and had to lay people off and I was one of them. So I claimed unemployment for 5 weeks and then began working for the woman who wears fashion capes to work and I felt like Anne Hathaway before she quit to pursue a writing career.

That’s where you all come in. Right there with that Jackie who is an executive assistant and blogs about being the Jane Goodall of the corporate jungle.

Anyway, here I am three years later being all zen with my recent decision to go to grad school for two masters degrees at the same time, and unemployment sends me a random piece of paper in the mail that states that I was not laid off three years ago, that they were taking the money back they gave me from insurance, and that if I didn’t agree with the charges of fraud, I had the right to hire an attorney.

Let me tell you, that’s some seriously adult stuff right there. I miss being a kid when I get a letter like that in the mail.

pigs in space

This is what my friend drew at the bar while I sat on my laptop and wrote a blog post instead of talking to her. Let”s call her Navi. All hail Navi.

As it turns out, I couldn’t afford a lawyer and hiring one would have been the same amount that they were going to take away from me so no matter what I was screwed unless I could 1) represent myself and 2) win. But I was scared and the paperwork was confusing and I wanted to play video games instead. So I told myself to make it a Lollipop Tuesday, told everyone I was going to do it so I couldn’t back out, and did the dang thing.

Let me tell you: it wasn’t fun. There’s a lot of really complicatedly simple and stupid paperwork to do and then you have to ask people who know you to go to court and be like “yeah, she was laid off. we all were” and then go to court and swear to tell the truth and sit in a tiny room in a tiny place with a tiny man who is very stern and records you and asks you the same questions over and over and then decides if you’re lying and mails you a letter to tell you so.

I put myself on autopilot so I can’t remember much except when I was waiting in the lobby to review my file (that’s a real thing. It’s pretty much like it is on the movies, don’t worry. You just act like you’re demi moore in a few good men). There were a bunch of lawyers there with briefcases looking very serious and I realized that all I was doing was staring around the enormous room like an idiot so I tried to look busy and got out my phone and contorted my face very seriously and played Hay Day.

It’s like Farmville. I’m embarrassed that I play it but I do. I’m sorry. I’m trying to quit.

So I planted digital corn and milked digital cows very seriously and when I was let in with my witness, we told him all about the day I was laid off 3 years ago and he was all stiff and grumpy and we finally made it through to the end. He tells us we’ll get a letter in the mail and ends the recording and hits the gavel and we’re done.

And then something amazing happened; he began to tell us his life story.

I kid you not – the moment that gavel landed, he suddenly lit up, and began to tell us about the first time he went to court and about how it’s a procedure people used to know and now no one does anymore and how he got his pilot license and how one day he got pulled over by the police for speeding and got out of the ticket and a bunch of other things I really couldn’t hear because I was thinking about the cost for parking in the garage next door while I listened.

But I listened. Because this guy was about to send me a piece of paper in the mail telling me if he liked me or not and I didn’t know what else to do.

And then two weeks later I got a piece of paper that said he believed I did get laid off from and I could go about my life in peace.

I fought the law and the law didn’t win.

That’s the moral of the story I suppose: I can do anything. Anyone can do anything. We just tell ourselves that we can’t and if there are people out there who can climb Mt. Everest and stand up for social injustice and be social workers and make products that change the entire world, I can suck it up and go to court.

So tomorrow I will embark on my new journey. Because it’s an incredibly small thing to do in comparison to all the things people are doing everywhere else. And someday I think that’s how you become one of those people: by being bold.

Please excuse the sincerity of this post. And the fact that I’m ending it with a quote. Just pretend it didn’t happen and go read one about how I can’t stand being trapped in an elevator.

Every day I’m hustlin’. ♣

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Sometimes I Like to Drink Naked in My Lobster Suit

27 Feb

Well, I can no longer take all the fat on my stomach and smoosh it together with my hands to create an enormous pouch of jelly.

So that’s nice.

For those of you unacquainted with my fatness, allow me to introduce you to Project Fat Ass 365, wherein yours truly has committed to work out every single day of 2013 for at least 20 minutes. For someone who just posted last week about how all her dreams could come true if she were allowed to make money to lie in bed and do nothing while NASA pokes and prods her for the betterment of society, working out is kind of epic.

So I’m two months in and I have a bit of a confession: I skipped a day.  For one entire day I didn’t do anything workout related. I tried to make up for it by doing two Jillian Michaels workouts back to back the next day and then going for a jog.  If you know anything about Jillian Michaels workouts, I hope you see that this was a worthy punishment.  At any rate it made me feel terrible enough to never want to have to do it again.

I’m glad I got that off my chest.  I hope we’re still Interwebz friends.

I’m starting to finally notice some pretty nice byproducts of exercise, primarily the aforementioned lack of a kangaroo pouch full of lard.  I also went to an interview recently only to find that my smallest tool costume ( AKA office clothes) don’t stay on my hips, which is both exciting and annoying because I’m currently riding a steady wave of poverty. 

It would be more cost effective to buy 4 bags of Doritos and keep the pants I have than to invest in smaller pants. Fact.

But alas, I made a pact with myself and made it public, so I shall trudge on. Let us not forget that it’s been four years since I’ve been in a body of water at summertime for fear of my own spectacularly thunderous thighs.  I wore cardigans all summer long because I’d rather sweat than vex others with the sight of my flappalicious arms. If I sat on furniture, I would reach for the nearest pillow and place it over my stomach so that others couldn’t see the pile of pudge that would shift forward to rest on my lap like a lard kitten. It would be really nice to not have to do those things anymore.  If I keep trucking ahead and let Jillian Michaels yell at me for just twenty minutes a day, I might actually throw on some arm floaties and jump in the deep end this summer.

Not to mention run that 10K that’s looming over me in September. That’s a killer. Why did I say I’d do that?

A typical day in my apartment with my fatness. And my cat. And my lobster suit.

A typical day in my apartment with my fatness. And my cat. And my lobster suit.

For those following along at home, I frequently tweet about my hatred of Jillian and all things pudgy on myself, so you can click the fancy button on the right to follow me on Twitter.  Occasionally I will check in with progress in my weekly posts, but for the most part I would rather spend this time focusing on the nuances of human behavior and society that make me want to board myself up in my apartment and never leave.

That’s been the tradition around here, anyway.

I’ve been courting the idea of a contest here on the bloggity blog.  It’s been quite some time since I’ve raffled a t-shirt or offered a gift card for various input. Except this time, I wouldn’t ask for Lollipop Tuesday ideas or macaroni and cheese recipes; I would challenge you to attempt a Lollipop Tuesday yourself or to do something every single day for one month to compete for a prize.

I’m not sure if this is a way to motivate you to go outside your comfort zone or a way to motivate me to keep doing what I’m doing.  Either way, we all win – yes? 

But before I put all that effort into things, let’s do a little market research. Let me know if you’d be interested in participating by answering the two snazzy surveys at the bottom of this post, and if you have any thoughts, ideas, or objections, feel free to spam the comment section – especially if you have a suggestion for a prize that would motivate you.  Be reasonable; suggestions for iPads will be scoffed at.  As you know by now, I love and adore each and every one of your squishy little brains and never let a comment go unreplied to.  

So take the survey, leave a comment, and/or follow me on Twitter to harass me with tweets like “run fatty, run!”  It’s not mean; it’s motivation.

Sprinkles and Puppies,

Jackie ♣

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My Contribution to Humanity

20 Feb

Guys, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for.  Well, me.  I’ve been waiting for.  But I know that deep down all along you’ve been rooting for me and so this will mean almost as much to you as it does to me.

Guys. NASA  hires people to stay in bed all day and let them study the effect it has on your body. They pay a lot, too.  Like $5,000 a month for three months.

THREE MONTHS.  That’s $15,000.  That’s a down payment on a house or a car or the best vacation of my life or helping 15 of my friends do something amazing or a wedding or any link to the next step in my life I want it to be.  And all just to sit in a bed.

So hear me out.  NASA needs subjects.  They’re willing to pay them handsomely for their participation.  The first two weeks is prep, the 60 days in the middle are all in bed, and the last two weeks are recovery. That’s 60 days of performing all bodily functions in bed, including using the restroom and bathing.  You have access to television, movies, and video game consoles. I’m serious.  Here’s proof.  And more proof. AND MORE PROOF.

Do you know what this means? Do you!? This means that I could get paid to play World of Warcraft.

As many longtime readers know, I have spent the last several years as a recovering WoW player.  At the lowest point in my journey, I could eat an entire pizza and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and go unshowered for five days before it started to bother me. I was so holed up in my addiction that in order to spend time with me, a friend in college carried his desktop computer from his dorm to my apartment so that he could plug it in and play computer games at the same time as me. It was the only way  I would entertain notions of social engagement.

Of course, a part of my soul was truly happy there in Azeroth, but I was a smelly pile of zombie-brained raid-driven flesh accomplishing nothing and spending all my money on pizza I hid under my bed instead of putting in the fridge downstairs.  So I can’t really say it was a positive life choice.

For those of you unacquainted, it wasn’t unlike this:

from South Park "Make Love, Not Warcraft". Check it out here: http://www.southparkstudios.com/full-episodes/s10e08-make-love-not-warcraft

from South Park’s “Make Love, Not Warcraft”. Full episode here: http://www.southparkstudios.com/full-episodes/s10e08-make-love-not-warcraft

I quit cold turkey twice.  The second time I was actually successful, mostly because I had uninstalled it from everything I owned and gotten rid of the only computer I had capable of handling the graphics.

I have existed WoW-free all these years mostly because I cannot make the argument that it is helping me achieve my goals in life, that it doesn’t pay the bills, and that I get to dangerous levels of hermit-like social interaction when under its power.  But then NASA announced that they want to pay me to stay in bed and play Warcraft all day for 60 days straight and that when I’m done they would hand me enough cash to do something big and adult-like in my life, thereby propelling the timeline of my adulthood forward and making family and relatives more comfortable about my life choices.

I need to play WoW to serve my country. People want to go to Mars and stuff.

Of course, in order to qualify for patriotic astronaut testing duty, I have to pass a fitness test.  So it’s a good thing I’ve been doing my Project Fatass 365, because I might actually be able to now.

It’s like this opportunity was meant solely for me.

All right, I’m off to do my last session of hateshredding with Jillian Michaels before I step it up and find a program that will make me suitable for a space mission.  Well, a space mission in bed. With Cheetos.

God Bless America. ♣

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The Best Baby Shower Ever

13 Feb

Man, I hate baby showers.

I pretty much hate all showers that don’t include water. It mostly has to do with the idea of so much estrogen stuffed into a room together, and a little to do with the fact that it’s a social engagement and requires me to leave me apartment.

So I was forced into the light of day this past weekend to celebrate the inevitable arrival of my next nephew, already dubbed David. This presents an awkward problem for me, since my David is named…David. I feel very strange calling a very small human who is related to me by blood the same thing I call a very large human who I find attractive.  I’m trying to come up with a nickname for the squirt, but I also call my form of the human David both “Davey” and “Dave”, so those are out as alternatives. Someone suggested “Li’l D” but that’s  too mediocre-white-rapper for my taste. I could go by his middle name, but the middle name is a tribute to my brother, so that’s another hot mess.

Anyway I was at a baby shower celebrating the almost fully baked muffin and was the only female in the room who had not had a child. Or snagged a husband.

For those of you unawares, when you’ve been with someone for five years and/or you’re closing in on 30, it’s virtually impossible to attend adult social engagements without being badgered about when the big day is.  And now that America is all willy-nilly about the importance of getting married before having babies, I’m not even asked when I’m getting married anymore; they just hop right to “so when do you think you’ll have kids?!”

For the record, both of these questions are rude.  And annoying. Please stop it.

But that’s just the surface of why baby showers are so awful.  The real reason is that when you’re trapped in a room with a bunch of moms who haven’t had a chance to get out in a while and connect with other moms, they want to talk about mom stuff.  In my case, pretty much everyone was a relatively new mom and were the proud owners of wobbly toddlers. With the topic of the day being an impending birth, it was only a matter of time before conversation veered toward the inevitable: the miracle of  childbirth also known as the disgusting process of labor.

I have a lot of questions about labor that I don’t really want to know the answer to.  They didn’t cover the details in my health class. All I remember is a video that had absolutely no warning attached to it showing me things I never dreamed I would be shown against my will.  I try to avoid discussion surrounding labor because I’m afraid that when it’s confirmed that you really do poop yourself in the process, I’m never going to allow myself to have children.

At a baby shower, labor-related discussions are inevitable.  Because just when you’re ready to hunker down with a meatball sub and some cake, everyone starts talking about the pain of pushing a watermelon-sized human out their hoo-has like it’s no big deal.

It’s not their fault, really.  It’s just that they’re moms; the things they’ve seen in the process of caring for a creature that is unable to eat, clean, or poop on its own has turned them into unflinching warriors of bodily functions.  I admire it, really.  There’s something to be said for someone who can discover a human turd on the floor and clean it up without protest or surprise. That’s the kind of warrior moms are. I’m just not there yet.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be there. I find turds to be quite alarming.

In the spirit of inclusion, I should note that dads are capable of turd removal as well, but they are not emphasized in this post because I’ve never been to a baby shower that includes men.  And I’ve never known one who has gone through labor and lived to talk about it.

So for lots of reasons, I would prefer to not have to attend showers ever again.  Unless, that is, the nature of the shower changes. Perhaps instead of playing baby-related games and showering someone with presents, we could all go play paintball together.  The expectant mother could hole up in a fort with snacks and her friends could divide up into two teams and play Capture the Expectant Mother. Or everyone could go play laser tag together and to make it fair for the soon-to-be-mom, everyone could wear fake bellies.

Capture the unborn child.

Capture the unborn child.

I’m not really sure why these haven’t already become social sensations.

So I guess I’ll throw it out there.  The next shower I attend should employ these simple suggestions or something in the same spirit. 

Even if I have to wait ’til my own. ♣

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