The butt of the joke

So, I am trying to lose this damn winter weight. And, yes, these damn girlscout cookies don't help a bit. I'm an emotional eater- that means food makes me happy. What can I say? We all have our crutch? Look, I'm not looking for sympathy but Susan Boyle gets more action than me- ok. I need the damn cookies.

To counteract the Somoas, I am trying to run again. This shit is for the birds. Literally... I caught my own reflection in the window and it looked like a baby bird trying to run from the nest. I know I am struggling but my arms were all over the place. I need them for balance because I am bottom-heavy. They call it pear shaped. It looks like I have two bowling balls shoved down my Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, ok. I am aware of my greater assets. Sadly, they need to shape up.

Again, my own reflection betrayed me when I exited the shower feeling so fresh and clean to start the day I saw two slabs of unrolled biscuit dough staring back at me. Again, no sympathy please. However, I think I can parlay my fate into fortune. I am going to invent the ass-bra. Think about it? It would improve your form in your pants and help give you support to skip down the treadmill golden brick road.

So let it be said, I have pattened'id the Butt-Bra. Or the Bra-ass-eere? That part might be in development. I can see it now, me on the late night tv with Suzanne Somers. If that bitch made millions on here thigh master my butt bra has got to buy me a beach house in Cabo and a new Corolla. It's a sports bra for your butt- and my calling in life. You will applaud when your thighs stop slapping together... I gots to go and see if I can register the # for 1-800-ass-lift.

Girl Scout Nazi

You are not going to believe this shit, darlin.

So I answer the door today and this little, tiny, cute thing is staring up at me. She had dark hair and pig tails and glasses. "What kind of girl scout cookies would you like?" Being one to appreciate a good pitch like that, I laughed and said, " Oh sweetheart, I am sorry I bought some already from my neighbor." She didn't like this answer and she belted back, "But I am your neighbor" and readily spilled out her address. Immediately her arms crossed and I got nervous like I was about to be mugged and taken down by a 10-year old. In my defense, she had a lot of badges I had no idea what she was capable of.

"Well, I am sorry. But I have four boxes and I don't need anymore do I?" I pointed to my belly thinking humor might soften the blow, but I did not judge my audience at all. "Who did you buy them from?" Well now the little bitch was putting me on the spot. Did she not believe me? Was she testing me? Who is she to stand on my porch... these thoughts are going through my mind just as quickly as these thoughts- Is this shirt clean? Do I have on shoes? Did I zip up my fly?

"I don't know her name. She lives on the corner. She has a sister. They're blonde..." The girl scout Nazi was giving me a blank stare and no relief. "Her mommy is pretty and she drives a white Mercedes." Then she shoves the order form at me and continues the questioning, " When did she bring them to you?" I was getting nervous. I think I had armpit sweat off this little heifer. "Uhm, well, let me see. I think it was, I think had to be Tuesday? No, maybe Monday. Does it matter?"

"This was supposed to be my house. She isn't even in my troop." I am imagining some girl scout teamster meeting- 'Ok, Sally you get the west quadrant of Green Hills up to Belle Meade. Suzy, you're on the east side of Hillsboro. Jennifer, damn it stay out of the southwest end- don't you cross Estes Road, you got that?"

My day dream was interrupted. "Well, I'm going to talk to her." She grimaced and walked away but as soon as she hit the yard she began to skip. This little girl is going to grow up to run the world I thought- or at least have a successful empire of arts and crafts television shows, books and magazines. She won't stand for anything less.

truths about Valentine's day

I think there's a lot of truth to Valentine's day. I think there's a lot of commercialization in the and it is in fact, a Hallmark Holiday. So, childrun, I thought I'd share my thoughts with you on the eve of the big Heart-On holiday. Here's what I believe:

i dont know if i believe in love

i believe in cold sores, and coincidentally i believe in herpes as a by-product of passion

i believe you can pay too much for a steak dinner (steak doesn't make me feel particularly romantic or horny as much as it does full and bloated)

i believe that there's no way a dozen roses costs $100 (and roses make me sneeze)

i believe that the greeting card industry makes millions of dollars on couples but the spirits and wine industries make double in the single market

i believe chocolate is the way to my heart- but only if you are a chubby chaser will this work out in the long haul

I believe that we all want to be in love and probably need to be in love for chemical reasons in the brain (some people need this more than others)

I believe love changes as you get older

I really believe that I just need some one to believe in me and as much as I believe in them... I believe that is the definition of love

Sidecar: you might wonder how a little number like mamma got away? well, children, I ran like hell from love, and now nobody is chasing me.

Tell someone you love them. If you really do, good for you. If not, you both deserve a little nookie on valentine's day.

in repair

so sorry, childrun, that I've been away. I'm like that mother that leaves her kids locked up in the Walmart parking lot with the windows up in July... I was traveling for work. Pushing my goods to the streets. And, I fell ill. I am in repair now, so I will be with you shortly.

inspiration

Last night I went to a superbowl party. I ate my way through it. Then when I got home and took my clothes off I was marked (again). It was like the equator around my waist. It was the sign of demarkation- carbs vs liquor- hemispheres... there's a reason it's called fat and happy.

Tonight I ran on the treadmill... I got to 3 miles- only because I pretended there was a bucket of fried chicken on the other side of the room.

More rules of travel

Honey, I have come to the realization that my company hates me. In actuality they are just... how do you say this delicately because I do want to keep my current employment? Cheap ass-es? How bout that one. I flew out to the Tundra also called Minnesota for work. I don't know why anyone in their right mind would want to live anywhere with all this snow and no film festivals.

So I am crammed in the airplane tighter than tuna in a can. Then I get a rental car- of course it's a Hyundai, or a Kia some kind of car that isn't spelled normal- just a bunch of letters that mean cheap in Chinese or Korean. I check into the hotel - with like 4 feet of snow in the parking lot and proceed to ruin my new shoes. Then I get my room and I kid you not there is NO WINDOW. I think how is this not a fire hazzard? The window is like a porthole in a submarine. I could never jump out of it if I needed to. Yes, these are the things I think about right before bed, very relaxing.

I wake up this morning and when I am trying to pat down my weave and put on my face, I find the light in the bathroom is burned out. Now, a normal person would call the hotel but I had no time, I was already late and standing there dripping on the tile-ish floor. So, I hope my wig is on straight.

From now on I wish they'd just UPS my ass from place to place. It would save a lot of time and inconvenience. Of course, they'd probably insist I go ground...

Childrun,

Momma is so sorry for the neglect. It's not like I left you alone in the parking lot of K-mart with the windows up and the doors locked in July, but it was almost as bad. Momma has been out pushing the cart and making some paper. It's hard being a single working mother. And that doesn't mean I have kids... I'm on the road for the next 3 weeks so I'll be typing to you out of my Samsonite while I unroll my support elastic waisted pants and steam them in the shower.

And I want to mention the grammys. That Pink lady is something else, I tell you. I felt inspired, I ripped the sheets off my bed and threw them over the ceiling fan. However, it wasn't exactly the same experience. Of course, the tequila made it better.

I leave you with this nugget so I can go change the clear baggy for my fluids and gels at TSA - they all talk shit about my Christmas theme ziplock baggy....A friend of Momma's told me this one:

The real reason that I'm drinking Shiraz tonight? I took a quiz on heart health over the weekend, and it turns out that I'm doing almost everything exactly right. There are only two things that my results said could do better: (1) I should lose weight, and (2) I should actually drink MORE red wine.

I decided it would be easier to drink the wine. :-)