Monthly Archives: January, 2013

Going on in my head right now:

I’ll just check my last blog post really quickly.  Oooh, comments, must answer.  OMG, she wrote a post on that?  Better pop by and check it out or I’ll forget.  She referenced someone else.  Okay, I’m off to . . .nooooo you are at work.  Stop it.  This is taking longer than a sec.  What are you working on again?  Oh, yeah, the exhibit!  This is going to be a great exhibit.  I love doing these things. Well, parts of them.  I can do research forever but eventually I’m going to have to gather it up and make it make sense.  I think I’ll look up fashion on Google and see how it compares to fashion at the university for the last century.  I’m not sure how humans could actually wear those things.  Oh, hey, I got email.  I’ll check it really quickly.  I got more comments on my post!  Wait, that’s my comment.  Why are you telling me about my comments, WP, my memory’s not that bad.  What was I doing?  Oh, right, the exhibit.  It’s fine because it’s not due till Spring Break and it’s – crap – Friday is February?  Get to work.  Okay, so I’ve already got the pages in the yearbooks marked that I want to scan.  Hey.  Did I mark almost every page of every yearbook?  Well, they were all hilarious, er, fascinating pictures and you should include them. I can’t include all of them, there’s not enough room.  Narrow it down.  Maybe I should just try to scan a few first.  Wait, they replaced the scanner software so now after three years I have no idea how to use the scanner.  I’ll have to learn how first.  Don’t wanna.  It’s freaking scary.  I guess I could look up the directions for the scanner.  The scanner has a facebook page?  Woot!

Advertisements

Adventures at the Gym

I think I mentioned something about adventures at the gym last time.  I’m not actually that adventurous there.  I rode on the exercise bike a few minutes once, but couldn’t figure out how to adjust anything so had no idea how far I’d pretend biked.  I might have been going backwards.  I’m not sure if your calories are subtracted that way or added back on.

They offer exercise classes at this gym.  I tried a Zumba class once.  I thought it sounded like fun.  Yay, a little light dancing.  I am an idiot.  Our teacher arrived.  She wasn’t any skinny mini, so I thought, cool, she’s not going to kill us.  I failed to realize that you can be a little chunky and still have the energy of a cocker spaniel.  She led us in a lot of dance moves involving hip shaking or Zumba-ing.  It was not so bad at first.  The music was nice and upbeat.  I was breaking a decent sweat.  15 minutes passed.  So far so good.  She’s going to stop any second now.  25 minutes.  Okay, so she’s going to go a half hour.  I can do this.

Zumba is FUN.

Zumba is FUN.

35 minutes.  Wait a second, she has still not stopped.  What the hell does she think she’s doing?  Did I accidentally enter Amazon boot camp?  What are those little dots whooshing through the air?  Am I seeing flying elves?  I really think we should stop. 45 minutes.  You know how they say when you die you see your life pass before your eyes?  I saw mine and it wasn’t very exciting.  50 minutes and all that water that used to be inside my body had materialized outside my body in drops of delightful sweat.  Finally we hit 60 minutes and she stopped and I somehow kept from collapsing right on the ground.  Had I done so, I probably would have been there the entire weekend.  No more Zumba-ing for me, at least not with Wonder Woman there.

I went back to the treadmill, which really is the safest thing.  Some people get bored on the treadmill because you walk and walk and never get anywhere.  Story of my life, people.  The great thing about the treadmill is that you don’t have to be outdoors with nature.  Nature hates me and makes me sick what with the trees and the grass and the pollen and the air and crap.  And let’s not forget all those natural dangers like dogs, cars, and sudden drops in the pavement.  None of that with the treadmill.  Just easy going walk, walk, walking while I listen to “Gangham Style” and other high brow musical selections.

Well it was easy going, anyway.  Until last week when more people showed up at the gym than I was used to and just messed everything up.  People.  Oh, well, I could go to the treadmill on the far side of the room.  I did and everything was walky paradise until, crap, some lady gets on the treadmill right beside mine.  Really?  Did she not understand the concept of space bubble?  No matter, I can ignore her with my “U Can’t Touch This”. Take me away, Hammer!  This works for a while until this lady, apparently related to the Zumba Amazon, decides up the speed as fast as it can go and, good Lord, run on the treadmill.

Pro: Gym has equipmentCon: Gym has people

Pro: Gym has equipment
Con: Gym has people

Thump, thump, thump, THUMP!  My treadmill starts to shake in response to hers.  Oh, goody, now it can be like I’m walking on a sailing ship.  Just what I always wanted.  I look at her out of the corner of my eye and do my best Jedi impression.  “You want to leave the gym and look into another form of exercise.” I think at her.  I think this really hard.  It has no effect.  I am tempted to tell her that, hey, my ovaries are just as big as hers are.  I’m just taking it slow here.  Oh, and lady, did you know that you are destroying the cartilage in your knees right now?  Working on that knee replacement, eh?  Lady?

She finally slows down and starts walking again.  Good.  Then she has enough of a break and starts running from an unseen force of evil, I guess.  It’s like one of those horror films.  Lady, you are never going to get away from the monster like this unless he too is running on a treadmill.  I will say this is the first woman I’ve seen be so fanatical about her training.  I see men doing it all the time, and I, once again, am often tempted to tell them I am very sorry about their personal equipment and how it isn’t up to snuff.  Thankfully, these thoughts remain in my head and thus I remain breathing.

Honestly, I don’t really care if you run on a treadmill or lift weights and drop them from 20 feet over and over again so that you can make that big loud bang like toddlers with their Lincoln logs. I just want you to please do it far away from me, thanks.  But that’s the problem with gyms.  Other people.  Which is why I decided it would be good to get my own in home equipment.  This should be interesting.  More next week.  For now, learn from Goofy, an expert at the gym.

Drunk Librarians on Parade

Jules over at GoJulesGo has a contest for free coasters and I am all up in that.  Free!  Coasters!  Did I mention they’re free and homemade by an actual artist?  Woot.  All we have to do is tell a drunk story.  You might think I wouldn’t have one, being a meek and mild librarian.  You would be wrong.

While getting my degree in Library Science (yes it’s a science, shut up) I had the opportunity to go to TLA.  The Texas Library Association hosts an annual conference for librarians to network and learn more about library crap blah blah.  There are classes, but what I remember most was roaming the exhibit hall in search of free books until I was loaded down like a literal bag lady.  Oh, and I remember one other thing.  There was booze.

And I don’t just mean a little booze, either.  Every place you went there was alcohol.  There were several scheduled events, like the welcome party (bar at the museum), library school reunions (bar in a hotel room), President’s celebration (bar at a club), and the closing luncheon (bar at the conference hall).  If there was an event, booze would find its way in, thus guaranteeing participation. The President (of the library association, not Obama btw) had by far the most popular party because there were free margaritas.

There were books, too.  I'm sure that's why most people went.  The books.

There were books, too.
I’m sure that’s why most people went. The books.

Anyway, so there I was with my fellow online classmates.  Some of them had been before, so they knew what was coming.  I didn’t.  So you can imagine my shock at seeing such a huge gathering of librarians, those dignified keepers of knowledge, getting drunk off their butts.  And this was exactly what the conference designers intended, because while you often got free food, the only drinks available came from the bar.

I bet you think librarians can’t cut loose, right?  You haven’t seen them drunk before.  I was dragged along on the shuttle (the shuttle would take you to all library events, so it actually drove us to a club.  Bizarre).   There we were greeted by hundreds of wasted keepers of knowledge. My friends were well versed in the art of drinking, whereas I was the goody-two-shoes who did not drink.  It’s not a moral thing.  I just don’t care for it, and besides, I didn’t exactly trust these people enough to get drunk in front of them.

It didn’t take long for one of my friends, a lovely woman in her 50s who could easily pass for 40s, to get drunk enough off the free margaritas that she started trying to pick up the hot young bartender who I guess had to be 21, but not much older.  She said something along the lines of “If I were a little younger and not married . . .”  My friend C and I eventually steered her away before she could actually climb over the bar.

We had pictures of the event.  In one I’m wearing a cowboy hat that was put on my head by a hammered library vendor.  She told me I was her bestest friend ever.  Sadly I did not get free books once she sobered up the next day.  Anyway, we danced and they drank, but eventually the room got sparse and it was just my friend C, the drunk one who tried to pick up a bartender her son’s age, and me.  We steered the drunk librarian outside.  She tried to get on the wrong shuttle.  We got her off and put her on the right one.  On the way back to the hotel, she entertained everyone by singing at the top of her lungs about how everyone was her sister.  She made plans to go to the hot tub.  We didn’t think this was the best idea ever.

Fortunately, when we arrived at the hotel, she was too tired to try to drown herself in the hot tub.  We got her up to her hotel room and she slept it off.  And the next day I was the only one without a headache. I made plenty of librarian friends then because think of the blackmail potential!  Our professors were so right.  There really are great networking opportunities at library conferences.

50 Shades Flunked Lesson Thirteen

I thought about skipping this lesson because thirteen is unlucky, right?  Then I got concerned that maybe that would be the one chapter where James sneakily hid the plot and I would miss it.  So I read it.  Now I wish I’d skipped it.  And the rest of the book.

Yet class must go on!  You may be wondering about the answer to our last question: “In the next chapter A) Slutty realtor shows up and sluts up the place B) Kate is sadfaced because Christian’s brother doesn’t maul her like Christian does Ana C) Nothing happens or D) all of the above.  As usual, most of you completely missed the mark, but the absolute best at this was Twindaddy with this answer: “Where is E? Oompa Loompas come streaming out of Ana’s vagina like a clown car. And they are all wearing nose plugs.”  I laughed so hard Oompa Loompas came out of my nose.

Thank you for that image, twindaddy.

Thank you for that image, twindaddy.

But the time for laughter is over, cause we’re back to this shitty book.  If you recall, last chapter the Moron Brigade were all on their way to Aspen on Christian’s Bat Jet.  They get to Ana’s house (Zomg she owns a house in Aspen!  Who cares?) and Ana thinks, hey, they’re at a freaking ski lodge, maybe she could learn to ski.  But Christian gets madfaced and says “You might break your neck.” (RedFlag) I’m failing to see the problem here. Kate looks sadfaced and Ana thinks maybe it has to do with that psycho Jack Hyde, then she realizes that this place was designed by Slutty Realtor who had a fling with Christian’s brother (who just happens to be Kate’s boyfriend, keep up)!  Clearly a rival female is cause for much more alarm than a psycho murderer. (AnaFail)

Ana expresses her concern and Christian replies that his brother Elliot “has fucked most of Seattle.” Well, thank goodness.  I was afraid Kate was going to get away without 25 different kinds of venereal disease. (Facepalm) “Mainly women” Christian adds – as a joke.  Cause it’s funny, huh?  The idea that he could be gay.  Talk about a joke! (Double Facepalm)  They joke some more about how terrible it would have been if Christian were some gay freak, as opposed to a straight freak, and yes, James, we get it.  Gay people are funny.  Hee hee. (AliceRage)

Every character should really read this informative book.

Every character should really read this informative book.

Yes, that Christian is sure a prize.  Ana says, “Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for Cancer, and all three wishes from Aladdin’s lamp all rolled into one.”  Think about that for a moment.  Hang on a sec.  I’m going to smack my head against a door.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bannnnnnnnggggg!

Okay, I’m back.  That’s just such a perfect description for this guy.  He’s like winning the fucking lottery.  No, wait, he’s like better than a cure for Cancer, you know, that horrible disease that kills millions of people worldwide.  Or a magic lamp, where you could wish for a cure for Cancer, or for millions of dollars, or fuck, a Klondike bar.  He is better than all of this.  Yup.  Yup.  I’m just, not even, you know I just . . . moving on. (Big Freakin’ AnaFail)

Who would you do for a Klondike bar?

Who would you do for a Klondike bar?

Next up, something horrible happens.  An atom bomb falls and blows up the ski lodge!  Wait, that would be a good thing.  No, the horrible thing is rain.  That’s right.  It dared to rain and spoil their fun (Facepalm).   Fuck you, rain.  But all is not lost.  Mia decides that the girls can do girly stuff, which is shopping, while the boys can do boy stuff, which is fishing.  Just so you’ve got these sex roles straight here.

Well Ana and the girls go shopping and Ana spends enough money to get some pretty good research on that silly Cancer cure going on a dress that doesn’t cover her ass.  Zomg, it’s like so overpriced and poor Ana she has to spend all this money and gosh it makes her so uncomfortable! (AnaFail)  Afterward, Ana sees Elliot across the way and he is talking to Slutty Realtor which must mean they are dun dun dunnnnn having an affair!  Because they’re, like, talking!  I don’t care! (BoredNow)

No, I'm sad.  See.  A tear.  Totally sad.

This is me caring.

They get back to the lodge and Kate and Ana talk about “Cocktailgate” which is code for that time Christian acted like an asshole cause Ana went out for drinks with her friend.  And you know what?  I hear gate thrown on the end of one more word I’m just going to smack that person really, really hard.  Not everything is a gate.  Stop it.

Kate is sadfaced because Elliot is “distant”.  Again, not caring.  There’s more pages to this chapter.  Why?  Ana goes to the garage and blah blahs with Elliot until Christian gets back.  They decide to take a bath but not before sexy times but thank God she skips over it.  My head already hurts from the door.  So moving on . . . they’re taking a bath and Christian kisses her toes and man, I really thought I might make it through without vomiting this time!  They finish the bath and Ana tries on the dress and then, oh shit, not this again.  She emails Christian because he’s totally like two rooms away.

It's just not right.  Why?  Why????

It’s just not right. Why? Why????

Christian comes to check out the dress, and we get to the very best part, the part that makes her “Christian is better than a cure for Cancer” bit sound totes awesome.  Christian notes the edge of the dress is not far from her hoo-ha and just to make sure she gets it, he sticks his . . . hang on.  The door.  Then the toilet.

Thanks a lot, book.

Thanks a lot, book.

Bang, bang, bang, puuuuuuuke.

He sticks his finger up inside her and says “This is mine.”  And I just realized that the AliceScreams deduction, which takes 20 points off, is just not enough for this chapter.  I’m going with the (Ihatethisfuckingbookomghowcanheownhervaginathatsnotrightarghhhh) deduction which is 500 points off.  That’s right.  500 points.  Methinks James will once again fail this chapter.  Oh, but there’s still two more pages.

They all go out to dinner, blah blah, then Elliot asks Kate to marry him which I totally didn’t see coming at all and BAM the chapter is OVER Hallelujah Praise Jehovah and Pass the Buttplugs.

Final Score 100 -18 -500 =-518
Call PETA, Alice is abusing meeeee!

Call PETA, Alice is abusing meeeee!

pop quiz

In our next installment of This Fucking Book . . . you know, I think I’ll switch it up and ask a Math question.
If Christian’s peen is going 90 miles an hour and Ana’s hoo ha is going 50 miles per hour, how long until Alice has a mental breakdown?  Answer below!

Blog for Mental Health 2013

Okay, this is Alice being somewhat serious for a few minutes.  Canvas of the Minds is a blog with multiple authors that seeks to remove the stigma from mental illness by talking about it freely.  The authors, including yours truly, are not experts, except in our own experiences.  In other words, we all have a touch of the nuts.  And we want to share!  No, wait, we want to let other people know that it’s okay to share.  That’s better.

Did someone say nuts????

Did someone say nuts????

Because there are more of us than you think.  It’s not all confined to places like Wonderland.  We have way more than our share here, though.  I keep trying to get the Hatter to take some meds or at least go see a shrink but he keeps saying “Not during tea time!”  Of course, it’s always tea time, which means he can never seem to get any help.  Instead he hides away with the March Hare and that stupid Door Mouse and they all act crazy together and no one knows about them unless they are unlucky enough to stumble upon their tea party.

It wasn’t a fun party.  There was all this “new cup, move down” crap and we never got to drink any tea or eat any sweets because the dorks kept starting over again, or jamming the mouse in the sugar bowl, or celebrating unbirthdays or just smacking the crap out of each other.  In other words, it’s like most family dinners, only this one never ends.

Crap, this happens every damn Thanksgiving.

Crap, this happens every damn Thanksgiving.

The sad thing is that it could end, or it could at least get better.  But there’s this stigma out there.  No one wants to admit they are good in the mentals.  You can have Cancer.  You can have heart disease.  You can have a broken leg.  And you can freely take medicine for all of these.  People are willing to be nice and bring you food and talk to you about your troubles.  But if it’s a mental illness?  That’s a different story.

Then you’re making it up.  Or you could do better, if you’d just try.  You know, pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  Quit being sad!  Now!  Get off the ceiling you aren’t Spiderman!  Now!  Stop it, stop it, stop it already!

Strangely enough, this sort of therapy rarely works.  Because, you see, people with mental illness already think they’re lazy.  They already know there is something off about them.  They are already frightened.  And often they don’t know why they’re sad, or why some random thing has caused tears, or why they managed to tile the roof in one night.  It just is.

Spiderman: Probably manic.

Spiderman: Probably manic.

But because of these reactions, people suffer in silence.  Because of these reactions, people take their own lives.  And then people wonder.  She always seemed happy.  What went wrong?  He pretended, that’s what.  She acted like everyone expected, that’s what.

But we can change this.  We can talk about it more openly.  The more people know about something, the less likely they are to fear it.  And the more encouraging people are, the more likely someone with mental illness will feel brave enough to respond, to leave the tea party, at least for a little while.

So that’s why I have this badge over there now.  I don’t just blog about mental illness.  More like you can just kinda tell I’m nuts by reading what I write.  That’s another thing people don’t realize.  So many artists, writers, and other creative people suffer from this stuff.  I’m not sure what the connection is, but I do know that if we don’t hold out a life line, we’re going to lose some of our most gifted people, and the world will be less than.

There's marbles there.  The ones we lost. Get it???

There’s marbles there. The ones we lost. Get it???

I am fortunate in that I have a great support system.  I have enough income that I can afford medical treatment.  Not everyone has that.  But you can be that someone, just by being willing to listen.  Or read.  Check out this blog, or let someone else know about it that could use a little help.  Just knowing you are not alone is sometimes enough to help you get through the night.  And if you suffer from depression or even just the occasional blues, you can also come here or to many of the blogs listed in my blogroll (that is always evolving).  Laughter is a great medicine.  I hope I make some of you laugh, and for a while, forget about the tea party.

Thanks,

Alice

You can learn so much from Cosmo

Actual headlines at Cosmopolitan.com today *:

Is the Sex Diet Legit?

It’s Coming: Obama Erotica

Hoo-ha smells that aren’t okay

Hard hitting journalism, folks

Hard hitting journalism, folks

Let no one say Cosmo does not have their hands on the . . . the throbbing pulse of America!  This is um, hard news here, people.  Since I am trying to lose weight, I figured I’d better check out that Sex Diet first.  I think I could handle that.

And OMG, it is so totally legit because Dr. Oz (he’s a real doctor, supposedly, who used to be on Oprah’s show, not the actual land of Oz, although I did hear he successfully treated members of the Lollipop Guild) said so!  See, evil carbs cause you to gain weight (cinnamon rollsssss) because they release feel good chemicals and you want more.  Sex releases feel good chemicals too!  Do you see the connection?  I know, it’s like right there!

Dorothy thinks Dr. Oz sucks.

Dorothy thinks Dr. Oz sucks.

So our Cosmo reporter decided to bravely test this diet out (for science!) and reach for a condom instead of cheesecake.  I do hope she doesn’t eat the condom.  Anyhoo, she decides to do this for five days.  On day one, she goes to work and watches a clip of True Blood and is so, um, satisfied, by the hot vampire that she no longer wants a donut!  And I’m thinking, I want her job.  And the donut.

Day Two she watches more TV, this time some show all about diners (sounds fascinating) and gets a craving for carbs and jumps hubby.  Hubby must not be as good as the vampire, because she still goes out and gets chips later.  Hmm.

Chips or husband, chips or husband.  Decisions, decisions

Chips or husband, chips or husband. Decisions, decisions

Day Three she hears about cupcakes in the work breakroom and sexts her husband to keep her mind off of the cupcakes.  Good plan.  My husband would probably be like “wtf I’m trying to work” but hers begrudgingly gives her a little something and the craving is gone.  Gone!

Day Four the deli brings her toast with her eggs.  Oh, nooos!  She jumps her hubby, though, and she forgets about food.  I’m starting to think Ana Steele wrote this article.

The last day, she gets such bad cravings they have to use porn to stop them!  I bet her husband at least likes the diet.  Alas, it doesn’t work.  So it seems the sex diet is off.  Damn.

Where me freaking cookies, Cosmo?

Cookie Monster favors carbs.

I guess she should have checked out some “Obama Erotica” instead.  Now I like Obama, but I had never really thought of him quite that way before.  Sure, I had that dream about him being my prom date (seriously) but that’s it.  Well, guess what book pops to this reporter’s mind you will never guess!  50 Shades!  Yes, because apparently this is another fan fiction (about the President?) getting all hot with Michelle in Hawaii.   I think this person missed the boat.  Clearly Clinton porn would have been more interesting, especially with all the multiple characters and whatnot.

Speaking of porn, I wondered if maybe my hoo-ha was alright, you know, smell wise.  According to Cosmo, your hoo-ha (what do they call penises?  I have to know.) has all sorts of smells.  I’m intrigued.  It can smell strong and musky (if you’ve just been to the gym or had sex with Squirrel), or fishy (if you’ve just had sex with ice cream.)  Cosmo provides a helpful picture of cooked fish beside this part, so that you will never want to eat it again.

This is the actual image beside the article.  Mmmm.

This is the actual image beside the article. Mmmm.

Odor number 3 is “chlorine-like or bleachy” and typically comes from gettin’ a little too personal with your laundry detergent.  Or from a man using a condom.  Odor four describes yeast infections as smelling like bread and the discharge looking like cottage cheese.  Anyone up for some fish with a side of cottage cheese?  Odor number five is “tinny” and happens when you stick canned foods in your nether regions.  Or when you’re on your period.

And finally, odor number six is “sweet”.  Apparently you do what you eat, cause different foods cause different hoo-ha smells (and tastes!)  I’ve always wanted my hoo-ha to have a citrus smell, like my kitchen cleaner.  So I’ll eat oranges and avoid the asparagus which apparently can give your hoo-ha an unpleasant aroma.  If only Ana from 50 Shades would eat some asparagus then have Christian come sniff her hoo-ha.  That would be great.

So you see, you can learn so much from Cosmo.  Now I’m off to go curb my carb addiction with hubby just as soon as I freshen up my hoo-ha and watch Obama’s hot and heavy State of the Union address.

*You cannot make this shit up.

Livestrong, Die Hard

On my ongoing weight-loss journey, I am learning so much.  In case you didn’t realize it, there are a lot of diet / exercise trends out there.  Some of them we can look back on and laugh now.  Some of them we will look back on and laugh later.  You know, if they don’t kill us first.

Some friends of mine use the Livestrong website.  Livestrong was started by Lance Armstrong (get it?), the cyclist who won the Tour de France several times and pissed off a bunch of French people.  So a total win for the U.S. there, except that recently they finally caught him drugging and he sort of lost all his titles and stuff.  Whatever your opinion on the guy, I have to give him credit because there are NO drugs that could make me cycle more than a few blocks without falling over, much less that many miles.

You're not actually gonna make me ride with her, are you?

You’re not actually gonna make me ride with her, are you?

Anyway, there’s a calorie counter on this site called MyPlate and you can enter your height and weight and how much you want to lose per week and it calculates how many calories you get.  Then you can enter in every morsel you eat and it goes POP and shows the calories.  It also takes these calories away from the total number of calories you get for the day.  I think you can already see where the problem here is.  At first, I had all these calories left over and was like, wow, and I even had a milkshake.  This is GREAT.  Then I realized that I had put in that I wanted to gain 1.5 pounds a week instead of losing 1.5 pounds.  Whoops.

Calorie Counter From Hell

Calorie Counter From Hell

So the next day I fixed it; and things changed, my friends, and not for the better.  I realized I had eaten almost half of my calories for the day and I hadn’t made it to lunch yet.  And I didn’t have any freaking pancakes, either.  We’re talking Raisin Bran and skim milk and some freaking fruit and stuff.  But you do get an out.  If you exercise, you can burn some calories, so you get some of your “points” back that way.  One problem with this.  You have to do a LOT of exercise.  None of that “stand up” stuff for Lance.  So I’m thinking I’m not quite ready for MyPlate yet.  I went back to Superbetter.  It’s kind of like going from Jeopardy to Wheel of Fortune.  Suddenly I’m a genius again!

I'd like to buy a vowel . . . a C!

I’d like to buy a vowel . . . a C!

Superbetter says “add fiber” so I add some fiber.  There are actually some tasty things with fiber.  I don’t recommend All-Bran, though, unless you like eating twigs.  My favorite fiber thing is a Bran muffin. I know, I’m not 80, but I think those things are seriously yummy. The thing about fiber is that it fills you up better, so the idea is that you won’t eat as much.  The idea is anyway.  It’s a great idea.  It might even be working a little.

Hint: Your cereal should not resemble twigs.

Hint: Your cereal should not resemble twigs.

Superbetter says “add a veggie”, so I try to remember to throw one in my meal.  One thing I figured out was that the Evil Empire Wal-Marticus has these single servings of green beans you can carry with you.  This is nice for when you don’t have time (or energy) to make a whole pot of them, most of which you will put in the fridge as leftovers and forget about until they achieve sentience.  You can also easily add them to your lunch you’re bringing to work.  And unlike some veggies, these actually taste pretty good.  This is my opinion, of course, because I don’t care for most vegetables.  Unless they are coated in cheese or have bacon added to them.  Which tends to negate some of the nutritional aspect there.

I WOULD like to bite the heads off of some of these guys.

I would like to bite the heads off of some of these guys.

So that’s my adventures in nutrition for now.  But what about exercise?  Well, I know I’m going to have to do more than just standing, even with Superbetter.  Just the other day, I finally dragged my butt to the gym.  This gym is open 24 hours a day and is located a block from my house, so talk about a huge hurtle getting there.  I will tell you about the gym, and some other fun new exercise techniques in future posts.  Think Goofy on those old Disney cartoons and you’ll be pretty close.

The best flowchart ever. I am so glad I don’t have to think about this anymore.

TheaterPeeHeader copy

To pee, or not to pee? That is the question. Everyone who has ever gone to a movie knows this predicament- whether ’tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of painfully watching a movie when you have to relieve yourself, or to take arms against a sea of porcelain and miss a few minutes of a movie you’ve paid to see. To help you determine the best possible time to pee during a movie, I’ve created this flowchart.

View original post 10 more words

50 Shades Flunked Lesson Twelve

So we’ve made it to chapter twelve.  I knew we could do it.  Don’t look ahead on the syllabus, you’ll only – you did, didn’t you?  Well, it’s your fault that you just realized there are eleventy billion more chapters because E.L. continues to add them in our sleep.

So last time I asked you to fill in the blank of this question “Next chapter, Christian gets all sadfaced on us and plays his goddamn piano again (cue sad trombone, wah wahhhh) because Ana ______.”  I got some creative responses on this one.  And by creative I mean slightly disturbing, as usual. I’m so proud of my students!  I couldn’t choose a favorite, so here they are.

piano

Sad piano. Wah-wahhhhh.

Lesbiannextdoor:  Christian gets all sadfaced on us and plays his goddamn piano again because Ana breathed. It seems that’s all it takes for that twatnozzle to get mad at her! Uggghh this god damned book!

Speaker 7: The correct answer is Christian’s all sad piano because Ana lost her vagina.

TAE: Next chapter, Christian gets all sadfaced on us and plays his goddamn piano again (cue sad trombone, wah wahhhh) because Ana discovers masturbation!

Womansmdguide: I’m confused. Christian plays the sad piano and Ana sucks the trombone? Because…she wanted to finish the chapter? Nah!! Because she washed her own butt plug? Because she DIDNT wash the butt plug! That’s IT!

Miss Four Eyes: Next chapter, Christian gets all sadfaced on us and plays his goddamn piano again (cue sad trombone, wah wahhhh) because Ana dies tragically (which is actually not very tragic for us) after her brain exploded from trying to learn the alphabet.

Storkhunter: Christian gets all sadfaced because Ana stops calling him her Fifty after she realises she only has ten fingers.

GiggsMcGillJill: Christian gets all sadfaced on us and plays his goddamn piano again because Ana turns out not to be Bella from Twilight, but Christian appears to be Edward since he’s playing the piano and being sadfaced….

Faithhopechocolate: I’m guessing Christipoo went all sadfaced because Ana probably mentioned his crack-whore mommy or something. Or maybe he just decided that he’s a complete heel and useless human being who’ll never actually be liked by any women with brains. Or maybe Ana had a brain transplant with a golden retriever and is now marginally more intelligent?

Oooh, play it for me, Christipoo!

Oooh, play it for me, Christipoo! *

Of course all of you got it wrong.  Good job!  The correct answer is – well, let’s just get to it and you’ll see that Christian was, like, totally justified in playing sad piano.  And so are we, because we are reading this shit.  Let’s get to it.

We start off exactly where we left off last time, with Ana cuddling with her Christipoo after he tortured her with sexytimes until she used the safe word to make him stop.  Awww. We’d just learned the incredibly important plot point that Christian and Jack Hyde were born in the same town.  That answers so much.  By which I mean nothing.

Ana thinks of Christipoo as a sad little abused Oliver Twist (AliceScreams) again and tells Christian and even he is annoyed by this.  She says she knows he just wants to control her every breath because he wants to protect her (RedFlag, AnaFail), and he says “Yet you still choose to defy me” (RedFlag) Ana ponders this in her tiny, tiny brain and thinks “Holy Cow (AliceScreams), do I do that deliberately?” Yes, Ana, you do, so it’s all your fault that he’s a psycho who will probably kill you.  Of course. (AnaFail, AliceRage)

Please, crackmommy, m'have some more?

Please, crackmommy, m’have s’more?

Ana tells him she safeworded him because she was afraid he wouldn’t stop and Christian says he got “lost in the moment” which is the usual defense for ax murderers, and Ana says “for some bizarre reason the thought pleases me.” (AnaFail)  Crap, Ana, you make it pretty much impossible to feel sorry for you.  Only this book could make me wish for a fictional murder / suicide.

Ana tells him she’ll “try to be more considerate”. (AnaFail) And Christian says he’s sorry he acted like an asshole.  Haha, just kidding!  No he doesn’t.  He falls asleep and has another nightmare about crackmommy or something stupid (AliceScreams).  Ana wakes him up and he mauls her, because nothing heals Christian faster than Anavagina. (FacePalm) He commands her to orgasm, which she does (AliceScreams) AGAIN.  She’s like one of those blow up dolls, only programmable to explode on cue.

ana

Mini Ana Blow-Up Doll.
Get yours now!

They go to sleep again, and Ana wakes up to hear, dun dun dun, Sad Piano! (AliceScreams)  Ana asks what’s wrong with the poor Christipoo puppy?  And he says, “A deranged asshole gets into my apartment to kidnap my wife.  She won’t do as she’s told.  She safewords on me.” (WTF, RedFlag)  Talk about problems, man.  I mean, nevermind that you’ve got some guy trying to kill your wife, she won’t sit and stay and sometimes whimpers when you smack her around too much! (AliceRage)  Jeez!

So naturally Ana says “You asshat, you’re lucky I didn’t call the fucking cops! And stop playing that goddamn piano before I shove those keys up your fucking nose until they pierce your brain!”  Haha, just kidding.  No, Ana says “I’m sorry.” (AnaFail, Facepalm) She asks what his bad dream was about and he tells her she was cold and dead.  A dream or a future forecast?  Who knows?  Gosh, this is fun.

The next morning Ana is all philosophizing about how tortured Christian was and how he tortured her (no seriously, she thinks this) and how she needs to “chart a course” for their love and still keep her “integrity and independence” and I just spat my drink all over the keyboard. (FacePalm)  She’s cute when she’s stupid.

I am strong and independent.  Math is hard.

I am strong and independent. Math is hard.

Christian informs her she has a surprise!  He’s gonna kill her!  Just kidding.  He takes her to his jet (he has a jet cause he is super rich and hott you guyz, omg).  And on the jet is the rest of the Moron Brigade – his stupid brother and sister, and her pal Kate and her brother.  They are flying to Aspen all together!  Whee. (BoredNow)  Ana is so excited she pees on the floor.

Christian decides to have a word with Ana in private on the jet (Now he’s gonna kill her) and throws her over his shoulder and carries her off. (FacePalm)  Omg, that is so cute I could puke.  They blah blah about something, and Ana sees the stewardess is hot and brunette and oh nooos! (FacePalm)  Then Ana blah blahs with Kate about the whole nearly getting dead from Hyde business (BoredNow) and then they tell more about Hyde like that his parents were drunks and he went to Princeton and blah blah I don’t give a crap. (BoredNow) And Christian’s brother makes fun of him (go Elliot) and then we end the chapter on this daring cliffhanger.  Natalia, hot brunette stewardess asks . . . “May I offer anyone coffee?”  Dun dun dunnnn.

Final Score: (calculated by red deductions (-2) and purple AliceScreams deductions (-20)) 100-38 – 100 = -38
I don't want s'more of this crap, thanks.

I don’t want s’more of this crap, thanks.

Get out your number two keyboards!

Get out your number two keyboards!

Next time on The Vaginal Balls of Wrath . . .

A: Slutty Realtor shows up and sluts up the place.

B. Kate is sadfaced cause Christian’s brother doesn’t maul her like Christian does Ana.

C. Nothing happens.

D. All of the above

*statue of Linus and Lucy is in downtown Paul, MN.  Cool, huh?

My 200th post

I just realized that my last post was my 199th post and that my next scheduled post was 50 Shade related.  Somehow I didn’t want that to be my historic 200th post.  Even though I completely missed whatever my 100th post was, I wanted this one to be special.  How often do you have 200th anniversaries?  You know, while still alive?  Not like those they’re always talking about on Google, where it’s some famous person’s 548th birthday.  That seems pretty silly to me.  Are we going to drag out the corpse and put a birthday hat on it?  Cause that would be super creepy yet also a pretty cool reality T.V. show.

Happy Birthday, Benjamin Franklin!

Happy Birthday, Benjamin Franklin!

Anyway, I would say “wow, I can’t believe I have written that much” but wow, I’m not actually that surprised because I am a pretty big blabbermouth both in voice and print.  But at the moment, I don’t have bunches to say.  So I’ll let others do it for me.

How am I going to count two!  two hundred apples!  Alice!  You suckkkk!

How am I going to count two! Two hundred posts! Alice! You suckkkk!

We don't have enough fingers to count to 200, Alice!  Oh, and don't shoot!

We don’t have enough fingers to count to 200, Alice! Oh, and don’t shoot!

I just covered your blog with 200 band-aids!  Or band-aidos in Spanish.  Say it with me!

I just covered your blog with 200 band-aids! Or band-aidos in Spanish. Say it with me!

200 is the number of times I had Ana say "Oh, jeez" in the first chapter of my book.

200 is the number of times I had Ana say “Oh, jeez” in the first chapter of my book.

I do 200 pushups every ten minutes.

I do 200 pushups every ten minutes.

There are two hundred globs of us up your nose!

There are two hundred globs of us up your nose!’

I sucked up 200 cups of Tubby Custard.  Then the Teletubbies.

I sucked up 200 cups of Tubby Custard. Then the Teletubbies.

OMG, some lady is having 200 babies on TLC!

OMG, some lady is having 200 babies on TLC!

200?Math is hard.

200?
Math is hard.

Two hundred posts.  Big freakin' deal.

Two hundred posts. Big freakin’ deal.

Twoooooooo-hundred nutssssssss!  Omg, Omg, Omg, Omg! (faint)

Twoooooooo-hundred nutssssssss! Omg, Omg, Omg, Omg! (faint)

Years of Art class at work!200!

Years of Art class at work!
200!

Thanks for reading,

Alice