ishly

new year’s eve

(don’t act like you don’t kick off the new year by taking inappropriate love pictures of yourself with meat.)

And then.

I wanted to lose weight starting Januaryishly.

And not because of some dumbass resolution that I felt compelled to make as I jumped off the cliff with all the other lemmings just because of the scribbled marks of letter and number on a calendar that tells us what we are supposed to call this time in space that we are all sitting in.

Yeah, it was January.  A new year happened. (you can hear the whoopty-frickin-doo in this, right?)

Contrary to my having been “2009′s Anxious Mistress,” nothing magical happened when the clock struck midnight and 2009 rose in all its glory.

My ass stayed fat, my heart stayed broken, my mind stayed confuzzled, and there was no effing prince charming standing here waiting to cram a glass shoe on my foot and tell me how DAMN GORGEOUS I AM.

Which makes him a big, fat doodiehead jerk, because it would have been nice to go to the ball.  Or live happily ever after.

AHAHAHAHA.

I can’t believe I just wrote that.

Because, BLAH.  And also?  GAG.

Resolution Schmesolution, in other words.

But I did want to lose the weight.  The weight that I had ALREADY lost through a lot of hard work and will power (no, I have no idea where the hell I got it from, so I have no secrets for you) Augustishly 2008.

You know, back when I was bragging about being able to pull my pants down without opening them, and being such a womping moron that I posted a video of it online.

And that was the 10lb mark, and I lost at least 5 more lbs after that and I was feeling really great.

But shit, man, sometimes it just seems like life hates it when things are going well.  (I’m so optimistic, it’s disgusting.)

So I got pregnant, and got fat way too fast, because that’s also what life likes for me.  Pregnant = sick-novomit-butlotsoffat.

So 3 months in I got all the fat and none of the baby.  And then the none of the baby part made me do what?  Sit on my ass and eat.  And drink.

Because cookiescakeburgerschocolatewinepeanutbutterpizza = happiness, right? (RIGHT!?)

No.  But still.  This is my reaction.

Yeah, when the worst of the shit of life smears itself across my upper lip, forcing me to think the world smells like an asshole, I can think of nothing to do but cram food into my facehole.

And all that weight I lost Julyishly and gained back Novemberishly got added to, even, Decemberishly.

Causing me to feel quite lardishly.

And so? The desire to lose weight Januaryishly 2009.

And now it’s Februarishly.  And I’ve really lost no significant weight.  My body is still lumpy and plumpy and the fat pants are tight.  Oh, woe is me when the FAT pants get tight.

Why, oh why are the fat pants tight?

It MIGHT be because I haven’t tried in any remotely small way to exercise or get back on my old healthy diet.

YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T GET MAGICALLY UNFAT JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT TO?

Oh.  Yeah. Ok.  But there’s one problem I’m having.

I can’t find the motivation.

Honestly, most of the time all I want to do is sleep.  Just wanna curl on up into a big, fat-roll adorned, snoring, furry (shaving? hah!) ball and EFFING SLEEP.

It’s called HIBERNATING.  And bears get to do it.  Yeah, they are allowed to do this.  They’re allowed to eat like total jerks until they’re fat and gross (and furry, them bitches don’t shave, yo) and then they sleeeeeeeep. And what do the damn bears do that’s so great that they deserve this? Hmm?  What do they do that makes them soooo great?

Nothing. That’s right.  I am giving the bears EXACTLY ZERO PROPS.

I want to hibernate.  And God Help Anyone who tries to wake me.

That’s what the CLAWS are for.

Repeat after me:  “Lotus is sleeping.  We shall not wake her.  We shall make pies for when she awakes. But we shall not wake her.  All hail The Fat, Furry, Sleeping Bitch.”

Tell me when it’s Spring.

Maybe then I’ll feel motivationishly again.

New Name for Your Fun-Time Box

Lotus has done it. (Hello, Kevin & Leroy!)

Avitable has done it. (Hello, Hairy McButtcrack!)

Many more of you have done it.

I’ve even done it.

We talk about our bodies.

But I don’t think you’ve ever talked about your body the way I’m gonna embarrass talk about myself.

I’m shamelessly talking about that extra padding.
That extra layer of softness.
Protection from the elements that keeps my down there area safe.

My gunt.

My gut cunt.

*gasp* The c-word!

Don’t be afraid of the c-word. Take it. Keep it. Love it. Make it your own.
It’s yours now – put it in your pocket and use it at least one time today.

Back to my gunt.

How did it get there? Did the magic Pussy Fairy drop it in my lap, push it on down, and have it settle right under my pubes?

No, I ate too much Taco Bell, birthed two girls in 18 months, and sat on my lazy ass for the last umpteen years.

Do that, and you, too, can have your own gunt!

Call it what you will: fat pad, lower belly, upper pussy – you now have a new name for the top of your fun-time box.

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Angie is the rockin’ author of A Whole Lot of Nothing, a blog about everything. Quite the enigma, she classifies herself as a lazy perfectionist, yet she started an awesome online store, a personal blog, and a review blog all while staying home with her two young girls. She’s now adding masochist to her descriptors as well as failed housewife. Angie wrote this herself because writing in the 3rd person is SO self-absorbed, and she’s all about herself and shamelss self-promotion. Now leave a comment for her fragile self-worth – validation is important to women.

I like banana wheat, with syrup.

Fat floats.

We all know this, right? Fat, a lipid, is less dense than water… so it floats.

I know this. I really do.

But I was still excited at the astonishing sight I beheld in the bathtub Sunday night.

I filled the tub higher than usual, and sunk myself all the way in, hoping that the water would wash away all the deadlines I’ve been facing lately…

Or maybe just drown me so I didn’t have to meet them?

I had my eyes closed… and when I opened them, I saw that part of my body was not submersed entirely.

Two parts, to be exact.

AND THE HEAVENS PARTED AND A GLORIOUS LIGHT SHONE UPON THE EARTH, AS THE ANGELS SANG!

What a vision to behold! It was like seeing my perky, 2005 BEWBS! I wanted to say to them… “Oh, 2005 bewbs, how I have missed you! The way you didn’t drag on the floor and bump against my ankles, it was like magic. You knew how to make a girl feel young… with your distinct ability to not have gross stretch marks and your complete lack of loud, slapping noises when I ran or jumped without a bra on.

Oh, pre-pregnant, pre-nursing 2005 BEWBS! Where have you been all this time!?”

But it was just a façade.

Please, make sure you try this yourself. But don’t be the fool that I was.

DO NOT LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND CATCH A GLIMPSE OF THE FREE-HANGING-MEAT AS YOU’RE GETTING OUT OF THE TUB.

Just hold onto the vision, the memory… the floaty, fake-perky boobies. It’s okay to pretend.

Ah. Think I’ll make pancakes for breakfast… for some reason I can’t get the thought of flapjacks out of my head.

Yup. Spazzazoid.

After yesterday’s slight moderate okay, huge heart-attack moment, I’m trying to stop shaking like a dorkwad and breathe normally.  Why does something like that make me go all bat-turds?

Oh, yeah.  Because I’m a slightly moronic Spazzazoid.  Yes. I just made up a word.  Use it freely.

My plan for today was to keep the “meme drawer” clean and do a couple of these thingies I’ve been tagged for.  Because if you’ve been around for awhile, you have seen what can happen when I don’t keep the Meme Drawer Clean.  And if you haven’t been around awhile, feel free to click and find out, man.  But be warned.  That’s a shizzo-lotta crap to read about me. 

But hey! If you’re really into getting to know me better you can read about My Eights.  Or, if you’d just like to point and laugh at my stupidity… Get In Line.  Uh, I meant, you’re in luck, because you can now do that… with such wonderfully embarassing anecdotes as the “floating turd story” and finding out that you’re not alone if you have, indeed, sharted… just by reading this sexy post.

*ahem*

It’s also Thursday Thirteen, and dangit if if I didn’t get my Go-Go-Gadget Brain! in gear and decide to be the incredibly whizzomatic, geniusoriffic, and smartastical person I am (*snort*) by bringing you today’s…

7 Things Meme PLUS 6 Things Meme = Your Fabuloso Thursday Thirteen!

Holy turds, who knew I could add?

I was tagged for the 7 Things Meme by the following awesomeatious persons:
Napaboaniya
Christie
Kat
Vegan Mama

And for the 6 Things Meme by these wonderiffical peeps:
Sarie
Ray
Cookiebitch

 

13 Random Thoughts that floated through Sarcastic Mom’s head today:

1. Why.do.I.have.to.wake.up?

 

2. I’m totally unprepared for the first time I catch Braden eating a Booger.  Words of advice?

 

3. I wonder if it’s possible to vote for Coffee for President.

 

4. Why can’t groceries just regenerate themselves?

 

5. Kevin & Leroy are still touching me innapropriately.
Hi. This is my backfat.

6. Has anyone’s vag.ina actually ever fallen off?

Hm. I googled it (“vag.ina fell off”) and discovered 2 awesome things.
1. It doesn’t look like there are any documented cases of vag.inas falling off.
2. The #2 Google Hit for that search is on THIS SITE.  I’m putting that on my resume.

 

7. What’s that SMELL?

 

8. My hand just had to slip while I was checkin the diaper, didn’t it?  My finger just HAD to slip into the sh*t, didn’t it???

 

9. Poop should not be allowed to exist. (Then there wouldn’t be any Scatastrophes.)

 

10. Tabitha D’umo is still mocking me.  Die, whore!

 

11. I am a good mother.  Ignore the picture below and just maintain eye contact with me, damn you.

 

12. It’s really not that hard to ignore your child’s screaming when it’s coming from inside the closet on the other side of the house.  Really.

 

13. I don’t have to pull any cheap tricks to make people visit my website. It’s just because I’m such a good writer.
“The Rack”

Have a great (rest of) Thursday, friends!  And don’t forget… *insert words of wisdom*

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Dance your way… dead.

I wanted to join Dawn’s new thing, Showin’ Off on Saturday, and in light of recent events, I thought it would be perfect to try one of my new work-out DVDs today, take pictures, and show off how I tried something new this week (which is what she has challenged us all to do).

Yesterday, I purchased “Billy Blanks, Tae Bo Cardio” and “Prevention: drop it with dance, w/Tabitha D’umo.”  I’m a little bit scared of the Tae Bo video for starting off, so I decided to see if I could get my groove on with Tabitha.  Which was stupid of me to start off with, because, I’m so WHITE, rice is jealous.  I? cannot get my groove on.  Period.  I trip and fall if I just THINK about walking across the room.

It was difficult to even get started, because apparently, putting anything other than Baby Einstein in the DVD player brings about ARMAGEDDON.  After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I decided that Kevin & Leroy are a serious enough issue for me to go through Armageddon.

In went the “drop it with dance” DVD.

But, Eh-Muuuuuhhhmmmmm…. I don’t WANT you to do the dance exercises!!!

Ohhh, Braden.  Mommy doesn’t WANT to do the dance exercises either, but she HAS to do them.  Isn’t that yucky?

Ok. I’m ready, I think.  But a little unsure of myself… and I have a half-naked child attached to me.

No, wait. Clearly, I am supposed to be wearing shoes! Ack! Shoes!

No shoes. Not ready!

Okay! I’m ready! I have shoes!

No, wait.  I’m not ready, I have a half-naked child attached to me again.

Okay! I’m ready! I have shoes and I am half-naked child free (momentarily)!

DUDE. SLOW DOWN. She expects me to keep up with this?

WTH.  She wants me to do what???

Feels like I’m just pushing my boobs out. Is that exercise?

Um. Okay, I think I can do this part…

OMG, DID MY BACK JUST MAKE THAT SOUND???

(Or did I just fart?)

Ok.  Did she really just say that she wants this part to bring out my sassy side? Honey, a glass of wine will bring out my sassy side.  THIS?  Just makes me want to commit homicide.

Hey… this isn’t so bad… and the half-naked baby isn’t even cramping my style.

No. I was wrong, this IS so bad.  How do those cooters do this crap so fast?

Let me try one more time.

No, it was like this…

Ugh.

Braden and I decided that we both really like this kind of exercise a lot better.

My favorite part was near the end.  When Tabitha D’umo said, “Are you tired!? Well, I don’t care! Keep going!”

Oh.Tabitha.No.You.Di’nt.

Keep in mind….

Things to keep in mind while trying to evict Kevin & Leroy:

1. Regular exercise is essential.
Lifting food to ones mouth does not constitute exercise.

2. Drink lots of water every day.
While coffee may be made using water, it does not count.

3. Healthy fats are things like avocado and olives, not doughnuts eaten while standing on or near a treadmill.

4. You will not turn into a Gremlin if you eat after midnight.
Your posterior will multiply to such degree, however, that even Gremlins will avoid being seen in public with you.

5. It is good to set goals.
It is NOT good to celebrate every hour that passes without gluttony by eating a piece of cake.
Or pie.

6. Increasing the amount of fiber in your diet will help you feel full.
Drinking large amounts of Metimusil is not the way to do this.  Your toilet will not like you.

7. Vegetables are your friend.
Do not just “visit” them at the store, asking them how their day was.  You actually need to take them home….

8. There is a garbage disposal in the sink for that extra food on someone else’s plate.  No need for you to clean it up with your facehole.

9. Apples are good for you.
Apple pie does not count.  The same goes for sweet potatoes and pumpkins.

10. Eating a full breakfast early in the morning is a great way to jump-start your metabolism.
12.01am might technically be “the next day,” but it is not the time for breakfast.  Also, chips and salsa is not breakfast.

11. You should aim to get in shape.
“Round” is not an acceptable shape.

12. I cannot stress how important it is to hydrate.
Put down the potato chips. I did NOT say carbo-hydrate.

13. Running after a Toddler will actually help you burn calories.
Lifting and throwing him out the window repeatedly may also give you killer biceps….

Let me introduce you to Kevin and Leroy.

We’re a full day into 2008, and I’m going to tell you that NO! I did not forget to post my resolutions.
I just like to show up late for everything.

In 2008, I resolve to:
1. Breathe
2. Eat
3. Continue being a spazzy dork. (Why fight it? Besides, Mrs. Flinger says she’ll be my BF for being just like her in this way.)

(Can you tell I don’t really make serious NY Resolutions?)

Oh yeah, and I would also like to see if I can lose something that I discovered clinging to my back the other day.

Do you SEE THAT THING?  Yes. You do.  Because it’s huge.  I think its name is Kevin.

*gives Kevin the finger*

That is a fat roll that was not there before.  Do you remember my Fatty McFatterton post?  Well, I actually lost 5 lbs in the weeks following that post.  Then… I must have missed them, because I found them all again and even more.  I think there’s something about feeling like crap (aka, the D word) where all my fat cells start campaigning for my hands to shove things into my facehole so that they can multiply, because misery loves company.

Of course, Kevin’s twin brother, Leroy, is currently residing on the other side of my back.

*gives Leroy the finger*

So, anyway.  Yeaaaah.  The other day while I was cramming Mexican food into my facial orifice, I started doing the Happy Food Dance… I was moving my upper body side to side… when suddenly I noticed that…. Uhhh, HELLO?  Part of my back was folding over and touching another part of my back and THAT’S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

So.  Uh.  Yeah.

And can I just say, for the record… OMG, DID I ACTUALLY SHOW YOU GUYS THAT PICTURE?

I have nowhere to go but up now.