Fighting Kindergartners

14

I really expected to do better than that. What's your number?

Happy Birthday to Me

We're off to the big city to eat Indian food and make a Costco run and just generally muck about. Yes, we do know how to celebrate in high style.

And that's all I have to say about that.


ETA:
Ok, I lied. I have more to say because I have to show you the kick-ass shoes I got at the Rack for $23.

You can see them from all angles at Zappos. And you know you want to. I also got a dress and two lovely screened tees, all for $70. God bless the Rack.

I Blame the Y. And W/W.

Warning: Mild scatological references. Brace yo'self.

And X & Z for that matter. See, I skipped Pilates this morning for two reasons. Firstly, because I had a sudden onset of the tummy rumbles and had to rush home to the restroom. And secondly, because I had a sudden onset of the tummy rumbles and had to rush home to the restroom. I'll explain.

Reason #1: I take Pilates at the Y. There are no private restrooms at the Y. Nobody wants to have embarrassing bodily functions in a giant open room where people are showering and changing clothes and putting on makeup and drying their hair and so on. And the people who are showering and changing clothes and putting on makeup and drying their hair and so on certainly don't want anyone to have embarrassing bodily functions in that room. So I came home.

Reason #2: Today is weigh-in day. I was not best pleased. I didn't gain, but I didn't lose anything either. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Goose egg. So, when the tummy rumbles came on, I couldn't help thinking about the fact that I had not yet consumed any food or beverage today and maybe after the, erm, evacuation I would have a better weigh-in result. Is this pathetic? Undoubtedly. Is it cheating? Probably. Do I care? Not a whit. So I came home.

So, you see, I think I'm perfectly justified in blaming the end letters of the alphabet. After all, it couldn't be my fault.

Songs I Like Better My Way, Vol. I

"I Love a Margarita"
Apologies to Eddie Rabbitt

I love a margarita,
I love a margarita,
I love to taste the tartness,
Feel the sweetness,
As it slides down my throat.
Ya know it makes me feel good.

Tequila washes my cares away,
I wake up to a sunny day.
Yeah, I love a margarita, oo, oo...

"Milo"
Apologies to Smokey Robinson and The Temptations

I've got sunshine
On a cloudy day.
When it's cold outside,
I've got the month of May.

I guess you'd say,
What can make me feel this way?
Milo. (Milo. Milo.)
Talkin' 'bout Milo. Milo.

"Tami"
Apologies to Kander and Ebb ("Roxie" from Chicago)

The name on everybody's lips
Is gonna be Tami!
The lady raking in the chips
Is gonna be Tami!

I'm gonna be a celebrity.
That means somebody everyone knows.
They're gonna recognize my eyes,
My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose.

(spoken)
Mmmm, I'm a star!
And the audience loves me!
And I love them.
And they love me for loving them,
And I love them for loving me.
And we love each other,
And that's because none of us
Got enough love in our childhoods.
And that's showbiz,
Kid.

And a poem to close out with.

"I Sing of White Tea and Ginger"
Apologies to Walt Whitman

I sing of white tea and ginger,
The suds of Bath & Body Works engirth me and I engirth them.

Ok, so I gave up quickly on that one. But I think I got my point across, no?

Classics Shmassics

I am a voracious reader. I love to read. I will read as the world crumbles around my ears. That being said, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I simply do not care for most classic literature. I never finished Pilgrim's Progress. I struggled through Anna Karenina and immediately forgot most of it. I hated the vast majority of what I was forced to read in British and American literature classes. I adore Jane Austen, but I can take or leave the Brontë girls. I very much like Jane Eyre, but not so much Wuthering Heights. (Sorry, Anne, I never read you.) Right now, I'm halfway through The Satanic Verses with not much hope of ever finishing it. I think TSV is not technically classic literature, but it sure reads that way to me. I keep taking breaks from it and reading other books--this is a bad sign. I guess I just find the classical style, well, a little dull.

I so want to like these books. I feel like I should. I really enjoyed Mr. Rushdie's cameo in the Bridget Jones movie. But I am not enjoying Chamcha and Saladin. My apologies. But here's the thing--I read for pleasure. And this is not pleasurable. So I need to stop feeling guilty and inadequate and suck it up and return this book to the library. It doesn't mean I've failed as a reader. It just means I don't like the book.

At least I did better than I did with The Aeneid. I only got through one page of that. Sorry, Virgil. (By the way, why do we call him Virgil when his name was Publius Vergilius Maro? But that's another post.)

Self-congratulations, Part Deux

Today I received the best compliment of my acting career, such as it is. I went to an audition and the director, who is a professional actor of many years and who has recently purchased a home in the area (psst, this guy), told me that he really enjoyed my performance in Sylvia and that he liked my energy and he said several other nice things that I can't exactly recall because I was REELING and thrilled and excited and internally screaming "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" and running around in my head waving my arms and jumping up and down.

Now the reason I feel like this is the best compliment evah is because, while my friends have always been generous with their praise, they are, after all, my friends. They're not going to say, "Eh, you were okay." Or "Ya know, you really sucked." Today's comments came from an unbiased source who has made a career in this field and I am ecstatic and honored and giddy as all get-out.

Now, excuse me while I go run around the living room waving my arms and jumping up and down.

Self-congratulations

Excuse me while I toot my own horn for a mo'.

I started following the Weight Watchers plan 1/29, a little over a month after my breast reduction. (To read a lengthy, slightly incoherent, and heavily drug-induced account of the surgery, see my old MySpace blog.) They removed roughly 4 pounds of tissue during the redux, but I somehow lost a total of 6.4 pounds between surgery date weight and 1/29. My bust measurement decreased by 4 inches! Since that date, I have lost 15.8 pounds and 2 inches from my bust, 2 inches from my waist, and 2 inches from my hips. Commence happy dance.

So results from surgery + W/W results = 22.2 pounds lost and 6 (!) inches from my bust.

Happy dance continues. Besides, it burns calories.

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P.S. Jason is also on the program and is doing great. You'll have to ask him exactly how great because I won't let him tell me his numbers. You see, intellectually, I know that men lose faster than women without working as hard, blahdy blah blah. But, emotionally, living with the actual results is difficult. And so to save Jason (who is after all innocent of any wrongdoing) from physical harm, I respectfully request, erm, demand that he keep the facts to himself. I really don't want to have to yank his head off of his neck and dropkick it over the deck.