I Feel Crazy So I Jump in the Soup

How ridiculous is it that one of the first things I do when I see a hot musician/actor/celebrity of any kind is check to see if he’s, a) gay; b) married? LIKE IT MATTERS. It’s not as though I’m not (happily) married, and it’s not as though I’m going to be trolling the streets of … LA, I guess? … meet these people, so honest to GOD, who gives a rip about whether they would find me attractive and/or are married to someone else? Oh, this is such flawed, broken logic, and yet it persists.

So! Healthcare bill passed! I … well, look, I was for the bill, mostly, although I wanted it to go further (pinko commie ahoy!), and I promise, I’m not going to proselytize (although I have to admit that I have no tolerance for this kind of crap whatsoever. Save the drama, ye pamphlet-makers. Liberty is alive and well. It survived Medicare, y’all!).

But listen, dudes, I know I’m a political junkie and believe me, I’ve watched my fair share of C-SPAN — for God’s sake, we got the SPECIAL PACKAGE of extra channels only so that we could get all THREE levels of C-SPAN! (And Biography. Adam loves the Biography channel.) But yesterday? I watched ELEVEN AND A HALF HOURS of C-SPAN. I watched so much C-SPAN that I dreamed about being on the floor of the House. I dreamed about John Boehner more than anyone should. I woke up all SWEATY thinking I was yielded one minute and I farted into the microphone instead of speaking, true effing story.

And ultimately, I fell asleep before that grand moment where Nancy Pelosi smacked the gavel (“HEED THE GAVEL!”) and was all, “IT PASSED!” But you know what? It doesn’t even matter. Because after eleven and a half hours of that crazy-ass shit, the only, and ladies and gentlemen, I mean the ONLY, thing that would be even SLIGHTLY satisfying would be if Pelosi and Boehner wrapped up the evening in some kind of joint striptease, followed by public fornication on the damn FLOOR OF THE CHAMBER.

NO ONE SHOULD WATCH ELEVEN HOURS OF C-SPAN. NOT EVEN CONGRESSMEN.

I’m not sure I even want to say this, as it’s not something I’m proud to admit, but dudes, I’ve been working out EVERY DAY. EVERY DAY. FOR A LONG TIME. And though my body IS noticeably different than it was at, say, Thanksgiving, and my endurance is pretty freakin’ amazing vs. when I first started. (Level 3 of the Shred? I don’t sweat. Or even breathe that hard.) And my diet! Is very healthy! Like, as healthy as I’m willing to go long-term, so … this is kind of it. I mean, I’m at a sustainable, healthy diet, and I exercise every day. I’m eating healthier and working out more than when I lost 30 pounds last year, I swear to God.

SO WHY DON’T MY OLD PANTS FIT? THAT’S ALL I WANT, INTERNET. I don’t care about the scale. I don’t even care about what I look like! I feel good, and I think I look fine. I just don’t want to have to buy more GODDAMN PANTS. I mean, I can get through back to back levels of the Shred and I kick ass at Banish Fat, Boost Metabolism, and … oh fuck me, I think I have to buy more pants.

One last hopeful question: Could it be because I’m still nursing? I was not one of those mythical people for whom the pounds just FLEW OFF when I breastfed. In fact, I gained weight.

Side note: I’m still nursing. My kid is more than a year old. You could knock me over a feather with this fact. She IS starting to show signs of weaning (GROSSEST WORD EVER) herself, so it’s not like I’m going to REALLY shock myself by nursing until she’s eleven, but … still. I will have nursed her for well over a year when all is said and done. I was so nervous about breastfeeding and was prepared with formula and I donated it all. I … well, this is shocking to me, I don’t know why.

And finally: I am going to BlogHer. Have I mentioned this before? This is my first year, and the first time I’ll be meeting most of you who are going. Oh yes, I’ve met bloggers before — plenty of them! And, if I say so, it’s always gone swimmingly, if slightly awkward at first. (Me, not them.) And here’s the thing that even THEY don’t know: I am very shy in large groups, and it manifests itself in one of two ways: Either I am VERY CHATTY to the point of wondering if I am EVER going to shut up, like, EVER. Or I become super-reserved and hang around the periphery, so inwardly focused that I won’t even SEE YOU if you wave or approach me or anything like that. Ergo, sometimes I come across as a total snobby douche. At one of my workplaces, during one drunken sales event, a longtime colleague admitted to me that he thought I was super-cold, unapproachable and just plain mean. Oh, and that I thought I was too good for everyone. Which, oh my God, NO HO HO.

I’m not! I’m not! But I’m nervous that’s how I will APPEAR, because I will be NERVOUS and then everyone will think I’m a big SNOB who thinks she’s too COOL for everyone and is CLIQUEY, as you all imagine me in some private party where they give out gold ingots in big, supersecret swag bags, when really, I’ll be in my room, breathing into a paper bag and watching TV. (Note: my roommate is my girl Jennie. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is a SHOCKING choice. Why, I hardly know her!)

So now you know. I’m shy in large groups. Like, SUPER SHY. And again, people who know me in a SMALL group setting may find this SURPRISING, but OH JUST YOU WAIT!

Happy Tuesday!

*Are you ready for this? THE LAURIE BERKNER BAND. SOUNDTRACK OF MY LIFE. I WILL NEVER BE COOL AGAIN.

43 comments March 22nd, 2010

Money for Nothing

So there was a time, once, when I considered myself to be a smart person. Then, sadly, I took the Jeopardy online test and was rendered a drooling cro magnon, because GEEZUZ, you guys, that shit is HARD. How is it possible that a show — a show I consistently ROCK, I hasten to add — can be so DISCERNING in its search for contestants?

The format is this: they just start THROWING questions at you — oh, excuse me, ANSWERS, which is such Jeopardy bullshit — and you have fifteen seconds to answer them, and oh. Oh dear. I couldn’t even figure out that there were categories until it was too late, and look, I’m just going to say that during one particularly horrific, panic-stricken moment there was a clue about some desert that Chile and Peru are (were?) fighting over, and I misread it as dessert, as in who was claiming … origin, maybe? And I just typed, “CREME BRULEE” because THAT sure sounds Chilean, don’t you think?

What I’m telling you is that you should not expect to look for me on Jeopardy anytime soon, and that if you DO know someone who is on Jeopardy who does not wear a pocket protector and/or spend their entire days studying obscure facts about Russian politicians of the 18th century, you should be in fucking AWE.

CREME BRULEE.

Bullets! Because I am tired:

– LOST is back on next Tuesday for the final season. Lost! LOST LOST LOST LOST. And I am hopeful that it will be fraught with lots of JACOB, because I find Jacob weirdly attractive, even though the first time we were introduced to Jacob — or rather, the actor who PLAYS Jacob — was when he was Rita’s abusive husband in the first (second?) season of Dexter. And it will be, sadly, the last time we see Sayid in character. So much hotness. So little time left.

– Few things seem less pointless to me than giving up caffeine or salt. I realize that for some people, they are unhealthy habits, but you will pry the salt shaker from my cold, dead hands (or when high blood pressure kicks in, whichever comes first) and dude, coffee has ANTIOXIDANTS, no kidding, and the health benefits far outweigh the risks, in my opinion. (And several medical professionals as well.) Further, when I recently saw green tea recommended as a substitute for caffeinated beverages and coffee, it was all I could do not to laugh, because yes, green tea is good for you, but, um, it is caffeinated. Highly so. So while yes, green tea is awesome, I must heartily and happily say that, hey, coffee is, too.

This bullet point sponsored by Keurig. (NOT REALLY.) (I ONLY WISH.) (KEURIG, CALL ME. WILL SHILL FOR K-CUPS.)

– I’ve been holding out on you with my most inappropriate, odd crush, and I can’t keep it in any more. You know those Free Credit Report commercials? With the jingle? And the guy in the, um, mullet? Him. Yes, him. I find him strangely attractive, particularly in the most recent ANNIVERSARY ad, if you will, and … oh forget it, it’s too awful to elaborate on, but yes, Free Credit Guy, this one’s for you.

– An update on the Pampers situation: They gave me my money back. And, uh, frankly, it was a little too easy, which means THEY KNOW. They know the new Cruisers suck and they’re BUYING US OFF. I’m onto you Pampers! I should start a crazy-ass campaign/crusade and act like a total lunatic on Twitter and start a Facebook group and comment in baby forums about how PAMPERS CONSIDERS ME THE ENEMY and … oh, wait.

(Sadly, it’s true. They’re totally buying people off so we don’t flip out on them. Dude, I didn’t even have to give them a RECEIPT to prove what I paid for them. They just fired me off a check, and I didn’t even have to ASK. They were, within five seconds of the call, “Well, let us reimburse you for those diapers!” ORILLY PAMPERS?)

(I’m done with Pampers. Forever. Up yours, PG&E I mean, P&G (wow, someone watched Erin Brockovich one too many times). But you are also totally right that if you DIDN’T reimburse me, things would be even more hideous. Am sheep!)

– Have you been to Style Lush lately? If you were wondering about the L’Oreal EverPure line, which I was, I tried it out and LOVED IT. Go check it, and all the other great stuff there, out.

– Still shredding. Can now move quadriceps, but my calves are still screaming in agony after cardio circuit one and it’s the ONLY THING that will force me to stay at level 1 for the entire month. THE ONLY THING. Well, that, and I’d like to live. That, too.

*Dire Straits

24 comments January 26th, 2010