margarita insights

Today was a long day. Long, long day. It involved planning for 8 big projects, calming down the anal retentive bitch mom, listening to a crazy man recently released from prison (for the 3rd day in a row), an email to other local ministers warning them that aforementioned man likes under-aged girls, a pre-wedding meeting with a couple that only somewhat speaks English, the ongoing woes of my co-worker, and university politics.

After one margarita on an empty stomach, here are the things I learned:

1) the green shake with tequila added is NOT a tasty health treat
2) my dog likes jalepeno peppers
3) my Presidents of the U.S. plate with JFK in the middle isn't worth large amounts of money.

Tomorrow I have to get up early to help a somewhat disabled pathological liar move for the second time in 4 months. Tonight is my last night off for the next 2 weeks. Sadly, being 31 means that I will quit drinking tequila at 8pm so that I can go to sleep at 11pm.

Enjoy your weekend! (That was a sarcastic wish for my imaginary fans who have normal people weekends with late brunches, time to work in the yard, and trips to the beach. Damn you, imaginary people)

confession day

The green shake challenge is going well! I've only missed two days of shakes (today being the second). So far, the biggest changes I notice are that I have a lot of energy after a shake, I don't get hungry for a while, and I poo. A lot.

Have I lost weight? No. The goodness created by fruits, vegetables, and swimming is cancelled out by my new obsession. Boneless buffalo wings. I hated those orange food products two months ago. Now I crave them every day. It started with Applebees' wings (the good stuff) and my habit has taken desperate turns. I like KFC wings, hate Wendy's wings, am surprisingly satisfied with McDonald's chicken tenders dipped into buffalo sauce, and finally bought frozen ones tonight that I spruced up with bottled sauce. These are ALL things I've tried in the last two weeks.

The grocery store wings may help me break this little addiction. Frozen chicken meat is not the highest quality. The bottled sauce, however, is great. I can add it to almost anything. I wonder how it would be on eggs?

Worry not! Like every food obsession, this will pass in a few more days. I hope that it will be replaced with one of my healthier obsessions- like watermelon or grilled chicken.

Second confession: I LOVE the show Let's Make a Deal. Jonathan Mangum is the co-host to Wayne Brady. I've been obsessed with Jonathan for years. He was a frequent commercial actor and I had a commercial crush on him. Once I started following him, it became very exciting to see him fight a cough on an airplane while advertising Nyquil.

The show itself is awesome. Should that teacher from South Dakota take the curtain or the cash? Oh, how I hope that it isn't a Zonk! I am so happy that the couple from New York won a trip to Rome! Everyone knows that after two Zonks in a row, you always take the curtain.

strange turn of events...

Flashback to 2008:

I am dating a 38 year-old soldier who lives in an apartment complex near my work. We are madly in love and, therefore, make love. Sometimes, quite loudly.

That was one of my largest regrets of dating the soldier. His bedroom shared a wall with an apartment full of conservative Christian college students. As the relationship unfolded, I got to know one of the kids next door. He'd walk into the open kitchen door where my boyfriend was standing in his underwear smoking a cigarette . The conservative kid would sit at the kitchen table and talk to us while my boyfriend offered him a beer. The kid knew that I was a minister at the church down the street.

He thought I was going to hell. I remember listening to neighbors have sex when I lived in an apartment. It isn't a sound you can confuse or forget. Now and then, I drive past that apartment complex and regretfully re-live the moments of our bed knocking against that wall of conservative judgement.

Today:

That same conservative kid is now a youth minister. He just invited me to speak at his church.

Whaaaat? Of course, I said yes. I am relieved! Overjoyed! A little worried!

It may be that he didn't put together the knocking noises with sex. Maybe he didn't care if he saw my car staying the night. Probably, he finally got laid and decided that people in love making love isn't that bad of a thing. I don't know. This is a strange turn of events. I'll let you know how the speaking engagement goes. We have until June.

green shakes and swim

The sabbatical from men continues! Grant it, I am only 20 days into my six month break from men, but I still love this season of underwear on the floor and lots of free nights alone. Yes, that sounds like the life of a loser to anyone else. For me, it is heaven.

While NOT dating men keeps me oh-so-busy, I managed to squeeze in another project. Today begins a month-long experiment with green shakes. I hope to drink a green shake every day until May 22nd. Like every big project that I undertake after thinking it through for 30 seconds, I am sure that this one will be a huge success. Not*

What is a green shake, you ask? It is a smoothie with spinach. This morning, I blended one orange, one banana, some strawberries, and three huge handfuls of baby spinach. It was awesome! You don't taste the spinach at all! It is like a really thick dessert! I read on someone else's blog (happyfoody.com) about this challenge. For the next month, I will have fresh fruits and vegetables every day for breakfast- the smoothie. I call it a shake because that sounds less healthy.

The official challenge tells you to cut out all white sugars. Um, let's be realistic with my impulsive commitment. If I cut out all white sugars, I'll start eating fried chicken by the bucket. In a week's time, I will find myself sitting in a closet weeping, hating myself, and eating an entire package of Little Debbies. We'll keep the white sugars for now. Green shakes are a good start.

Swim update: The journey to becoming a sexy swimmer faced a setback last week. I bought a more official athletic swimsuit with the criss-crossy back on it. While it does stay put when I am swimming, it also accentuates my backfat. Giant rolls of fat falling out of every elegant hole cut into the back of my swimsuit....not exactly sexy. Oh well. With my green shake challenge, I am sure that the backfat will be gone in a matter of days. Not.

*I still haven't given up on bringing back "Not."

The sexually repressed intern

Okay. I work in a church. If I have an intern, it is a young person who is filled with the zeal and emotional constipation that comes with divinity school life. My intern is the poster child for socially awkward, sexually repressed, and dellusional Christian leaders. That is not really a problem until today. We began our sexuality classes with teenagers. Here is how one conversation went:

13 year old girl: What is masturbation?

Me: That is when you explore your own body sexually.

Girl: Oh, so it is when you mess with yourself?

Me: Yes!

Girl: Is it wrong? Bad?

Me: No. Actually a lot of Christian leaders agree that it isn't a sin for someone to explore the body that God gave them. God made our bodies for pleasure, so discovering that on your own can't be a sin!

Intern: The problem that it can lead to addiction and impure thoughts.

Girl: So it is wrong?

Me: No. Some people can become addicted and it is a problem if you begin thinking dark thoughts while doing it, but there is nothing sinful about exploring yourself!

Intern: Actually, if people get TOO good at it, they can't enjoy sex with another person. (damn it! shut the fuck up!)

Me: Actually, that isn't true! Especially for women, doing it helps them to enjoy sex more.

Girl: Um, I gotta go. Bye!

What on earth am I going to do? How do you say to a 25 year-old woman that she needs to go through a sexuality class and get cool with Jesus? Someone should have bought her a vibrator when she was 17. It is going to be awkward when I hand out the checklist of what to know before you have sex...at least I don't hand out condoms.

On a whole other note, the dad from Family Ties is now doing movies for Syfy. It makes me sad and happy at the same time. If it weren't for Syfy movies, many untalented actors would go without work. I hope that Mr. Keaton makes it back from 100 Million B.C.

the short list

Here is a short list of do's and don't's if you want to date a minister:

1) Show up if they are preaching, unless they preach often.
2) Listen to their sermon/song/litany/lesson and find positive things to say.
3) Tell that person how great they did, how good they looked, and how proud you are of them.
4) If you visit the church, don't expect a lot of attention. Maybe expect none. Even if you don't feel it, all eyes are on your minister friend. Try to blend into the crowd and do not take it personally if you don't get special treatment.
5) Keep your beliefs to yourself, especially if they are that all Christianity is a joke.
6) Even if it is true, never respond to seeing your minister friend in action by saying, "I could do it better," or by giving them tips. Don't even say "I think I could do that." All that means is that they made it look easy.

Now here is a shorter list for ministers who want to date:

1) Do not let your ex visit your church and listen to you preach. It is awkward and he will act like a prick.
2) Do not invite a new boyfriend to your church until you've dated for 3 months and are on your way to serious. Before then, it isn't worth the risk.

Guess who preached today? Guess who's ex-boyfriend solidified his status as an "ex" by acting like a dick during and after church? I didn't invite him. He came anyway. (that's what she said)

tears and grilled cheese

I think that I love being a crazy woman. Yesterday, I was watching a video of a dog that got loose at a professional baseball game and ran around the field. The drama included a delightful scene of the dog squatting to take a shit and wagging his tail in joy. I laughed. I cried.

Cried? Yes, I cried. I have no clue why. This is a pretty common phenomenon in my life. Something meaningful, crappy, or simply exhausting will happen to me and I will feel almost nothing in the moment. Five days later, I find myself crying at a video of a dog taking a shit.

Being crazy is kind of fun once you embrace it.

In addition to touching dog-shitting videos, my life this week is defined by grilled cheese sandwiches. I ate half of one this weekend while out of town with four of my best friends. It was a simple sandwich on white bread. Since I've gotten home, all I want is grilled cheese sandwiches. Here is the recipe for my perfect lunch item:

Melt 1/2 tablespoon of margarine on a skillet. Add a teaspoon of garlic paste and 3 splashes of tabasco. Grill the sandwich on that awesome combination. I use lowfat swiss cheese and sourdough bread. It is just unhealthy enough to seem sinful but not bad enough to seem shameful.
I've had 5 of these sandwiches in the last 3 days. That is what I eat while crying and watching dog videos.

Sometimes I feel sorry for people who don't have the honor of living with a crazy mind like mine.

Day Five- still no men!

I remember the first time that I heard the song, "Hey Jude." I was probably in middle school and I cried. No clue what the song was about, but I cried. To this day, I cry every time that I hear "Hey Jude."

I love the show "19 Kids and Counting." If you haven't had the honor, it is a TLC documentary about this cultish family where the parents have 19 kids that all look alike. My past life experiences help me to recognize the religious pressure behind the eerily calm and fake cheerful way that they talk. There is little plot. I love that half hour every week and have no clue why.

Confession time is over. Now for life updates.

I still love my sabbatical. This week I built up to 5 1/2 laps swimming at the pool. Do you know what a miracle that is? Rich kids took real swim lessons when I was little. We weren't rich. Now I am in an adult class full of women just like me. We all know how unnatural it is to put your face in the water while swimming. There is a reason why Jesus just walked on the water. He knew that the freestyle stroke simply isn't normal. Now swimming is my personal project. I am having a blast trying to overcome all of my natural instincts.

I proudly walk out of the locker room in my cheap Wal-mart swimsuit, lower my fat old body into the water, and splash my way down a swim lane. I have no shame when I stop at every end to catch my breathe. I love it. I even leave the pool bright red and beaming after only 20 minutes in the water. Maybe one day I will build up to 10 laps--even keeping my face in the water for the bulk of that.

In the meantime, I have a very respectful 15 year old instructor who calls me by "miss" and doesn't laugh at me....at least to my face.

Day two

I've begun to dream again. A full day at home in my nightgown eating crap and watching movies. I stared at a house that I willingly chose not to clean. By hour 10, I began to dream about life.

I am a single woman in her early 30's. This is the best time in life to try new things and become more interesting. I go through these phases of trying on new versions of myself. It has been years since my last phase, so I am overdue.

I am taking swim lessons. Maybe I will become a sexy, athletic swimmer...3 times a week.
Should I take djembe lessons? I tried to teach myself, but failed. I can become a sexy drum-toting musician.

What about my yard? I am going to plant some trees.
I also think that I am going to paint my living room green. The bedroom too.
Crepe myrtles would be perfect on the side of my house.
I definately need to try to make tamales again. Pork this time.

I am going to find more ways to use Tabasco sauce. I put it on my scrambled eggs today. It rocked.

Maybe 10% of my dreams will work into reality. That is 10% more than would have happened if I were preoccupied with a man.

The Sabbatical, Day One

Since my first attempt at a 6 month break from men didn't "take," I am starting over today. April 2, 2010. You may inform the men of the world that I will be available for dating on October 2, 2010. That is good timing. It gives me a few weeks to pick back up on dating before I turn 32 in October. (ha. like men will be waiting in line)

Here is day one so far:

I slept late. Ate chocolate in bed (not because I needed to but because I've already paid for it. duh.). Put on a cute outfit that was downgraded to "almost cute" because I didn't want to iron. No makeup, no hair done. Went to work just long enough to feel comfortable not being needed. Went shopping for shoes and found the perfect pair of flats for $14.

I ate KFC for lunch. I hate KFC, but this week's Southpark episode was about KFC and pot. It left me craving both. KFC was a slightly less immoral choice and much easier to find.

Now I am blogging at work and waiting a reasonable time until I go home and poop. I might take a nap wearing my mumu granny nightgown.

Wow, my life is glamorous as a single woman!

It is finished...

Today is Maundy Thursday. It is the night that Christians remember the last supper that Christ shared with his disciples before being arrested and killed. In general, it is a necessary bummer of a day. It would be nice if this blog were a deep reflection on the sacrifice that Christ made and our own sinful natures.

Nope. Not happening.

This is about the end of my relationship. It is done! I'd like to say that I bravely and compassionately began the break-up conversation. No such luck. I did, however, get very lucky. He emailed me and began the break-up, saying that he thought I was about to dump him. I simply had to agree.

It was kind and beautiful. We will talk face to face tomorrow, but it is done.

The minute that I read his email, I no longer wanted a Cadbury egg. Did you hear that? I have 16 Cadbury eggs sitting in my living room. Don't want a single one. Do you know how many of those magical candies I've eaten in the last 3 weeks? As soon as I knew I needed to dump this wonderful man, I began buying and eating them like crazy. More than I can count. Dozens. It has been my primary food source. I've honestly built meals around what I needed to eat before I can eat more Cadbury eggs. The relationship ends. No more Cadbury eggs.

Yes. You are right. This is a sign of a deep psychological issue. Oh well! I will figure it out the next time I need to break up with a man. Now I am back to my 6-month sabbatical from men. For real.