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PLGs

March 24, 2011

Ever since I saw the DirectTV commercial below with the tiny giraffe I’ve been whining at Scott to get me one.  Because I think being unreasonable can be cute.  And also, who doesn’t love really teeny animals?

It’s been a running joke…he’s supposed to get me a mini giraffe and I’m getting him a hot tub that I’ve been paying off one nickle at a time on layaway for the past 4 years.  This is probably one of those stupid husband and wife things that other people don’t really think is funny.

 

Anyway.

 

My friend Sara knows about my love for the mini giraffe, so today she posted this link on my fb page.  GUYS MINI GIRAFFES ARE REAL!!

I now know that they’re actually called Petite Lap Giraffes, or PLGs for short, and I’m number 38181 on the waiting list to get one.

PLGs are available exclusively at Sokoblovsky Farms in Russia.  They like bonsai tree leaves, being indoors, and bubble baths.

“Petite Lap Giraffes are very funny animal that require special care. They need lots of love. Hugs and kisses every day. Otherwise they make tears.”

I want a Petite Lap Giraffe…I swear I will give it hugs and kisses every day.  I will make tears if I do not get one 😦

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***editor’s note***

Much to my chagrin, Petite Lap Giraffes are not real.  I don’t want to mislead any readers.  When I saw the site I was about 99% positive it was a marketing ploy.  The other 1% was strictly wishful thinking.  So I did what anyone would do.  I googled.  This guy, among many other people, dispel the myth and are basically the meanest dream ruiners I’ve ever not-met.

Glamour Shots and Fat Girls

March 23, 2011

Lord please help me finish this post in one shot because apparently if I begin a post and save it as a draft I might as well roll it up, put it in a bottle, and throw it into the ocean.  Or River Des Peres, as the case may be.

I found a new blog yesterday…yay!  I was playing around with my boyfriend, StumbleUpon, and I came across a compilation of hilarious Glamour Shots.  Having been a tween at the height of the Glamour Shots era I remember begging my mom to take me.  I wanted what every tween wants; to be older (and to smoke cigarettes and be able to wear really short booty shorts, but that’s beside the point).  So for my 12th birthday we headed to the mall for a day of aerosol hairspray, cake makeup, and overtly sexy poses.

Right here would be where I put up a copy of my Glamour Shots pictures.  But for some reason my mother, who has scanned and detailed her entire existence online (and therefore mine by proxy), does not have the photo on her blog or her fb page.  Maybe she thought she was saving me from embarrassment?  MOM – I know you’re reading this, if you have it uploaded anywhere link me to it!

Instead you’ll have to settle for some Glamour Shots reenactments I did with my bff and her sister and mother a few months back:

I don’t think any of them will be particularly appreciative if they knew I put these up, but they don’t read this shit so oh well.  Is that rude?  I think it ignores one of the cardinal rules of nice blogging…something about respecting other people’s boundaries…I don’t know.  All I know is that these pictures are awesome and you deserve to see them, so I can’t in good conscience deprive you.

So anyway, back to the new blog I found.  It’s called A Whole Lot of Nothing.  She was linked on the bottom of the Glamour Shots post on We Know Awesome and after further investigation (ie – looking at the sidebar after pulling the site up from my history) it seems she’s also a writer/creator for that site.

So this chick, whose name is Angie, loves the word awesome as much as I do.  She also has long curly blonde hair and glasses.  And she’s about the same size and body type as me.  And she seems to have a similar sense of humor.  Honestly, I’m feeling really stalkerish after this paragraph.  I usually hate reading overtly suck-y up-y stuff like this.  Maybe that’s why I’m going nowhere in the blogging world; because I don’t fawn over other bloggers.  Or maybe because I’m not really a fantastic writer and I only post about once a month.  Who really knows the answer to these questions?

Anyway, it’s taken me 2 pointless paragraphs, 3 stellar pictures, and 2 more gush-y paragraphs for me to get to the point of this post.  And that is Angie’s post today about weight.  She’s getting over her fear and announcing her actual weight online (gasp!).  Here is my comment and opinion on the subject:

(Is reposting a comment you made on another blog in your own blog tacky?  Oh well, I’m tacky.  I’ll embrace it.)

I’m a thicky thicky thick girl myself. Although I can’t deny that I can be self-conscious about my body, I’ve never really seen weight as anything but a number. The way I look at it is that I’m going to look the same way whether or not you know that I’m 210lbs. The actual number means absolutely nothing that isn’t patently visible when I try and put on a pair of pants that fit last year. So I’ve never really understood the social taboo of bringing up weight. As if people are going to see me as skinnier if I don’t tell them the exact amount of poundage I have stuffed under my clothes? I say YAY for you and anyone else that overcomes this phobia and throws up their numbers for the world to see!

Part of our societal issues with weight come from the fact that we think we’re so different than other people.  We compare ourselves to this made up, idealized version of other people and, shockingly, always come up short.  That was the whole point of the article in Curvy Girl Guide called Women Getting Real About Weight that drew Angie (the newest love of my bloggy life) to post today.  Go look.  Check those ladies out.  Check me out.  I’m 5’7 210lbs.  And I rock this shit.

(Although as of tomorrow I will be rocking this shit from an elliptical 3 times a week like a healthy person should.)

I Swear I’m Not That Lazy

February 8, 2011

I have a big problem with waking up in the mornings.  Not as bad as an I-hate-my-life-I-just-wanna-sleep-it-away problem, but worse than the usual wah-I’m-so-comfortable-I-just-wanna-stay-here feeling that a lot of people wrestle with when it’s time to leave the pillow fort and blanket cocoon behind for a Carnation Instant Breakfast and the sterile glare of office lights.

I’ve always been a sleeper inner.  I was the kid in grade school that had to run after the bus every day because I couldn’t get out to the stop until I heard the school bus lumbering down the street.  I looked like a scrub at school because I couldn’t get up in time to put myself together in any sort of reasonable manner.  I slept until the last possible second (and beyond) and then finally hauled my lethargic body out of bed and threw on the first thing I grabbed before brushing my teeth and bolting out the door.  Even in high school, when looking cute was of the utmost importance, my ass was in pajamas a good 75% of the time.  No wonder the boys weren’t beating down my front door.  Well, that and the fact that know-it-all chicks with loud mouths aren’t so much the high school boys’ fantasy.

It’s easy to chalk to that up to laziness or irresponsibility.  At that age it’s not uncommon to give in to what you want instead of doing what you have to.  Even through of college (round 1) I slept through my morning (and afternoon) classes.  At that point in my life it was even easier to blame it on an outside source.  Namely Bud Light and/or a love affair with my message board that would keep me up until the wee hours of the morning.  The last two years I was living in Tulsa I was extremely unhappy and looking back I think that the staying up late and sleeping in was also a symptom of moderate depression.

Here I am now, a full on grown up at 27 years of age.  I’ve proven myself responsible, if still a bit lazy.  For 3 years I took a complete college course load (round 2) while working 30 hour weeks at a restaurant.  I even made it on the Dean’s List my final semester (for the first time since fourth grade, holler!).  Although I still have bouts of mild depression when I become overly stressed, in general I love the shit out of my life and I have all the desire in the world to get up and LIVE.

But I fucking can’t.  Every single morning is an exercise in futility.  When I go to bed I tell myself that I’m going to wake up when Scott gets out of the shower, because that gives me enough time to be up and get ready and make it to work on time with at least minimal amounts of makeup and attention to what I look like.  I go to bed at a decent hour and tell myself that tomorrow will be different.  I know that I have to get up so I’ll be able to.

Then as soon as I hear the shrill beep that indicates it’s time for me to fulfill the previous night’s promise I justify why I don’t have to and begin the daily game of whack-a-mole with my snooze button.  The justifications are sleep addled and half the time they’re completely nonsensical and somehow tied to the dream I’m having.  As soon as I fully wake up, right as I should be leaving my house, my head clears and I get all pissed off at myself for letting this happen again.

Every damn day.  How do I make it stop??

I’m a resourceful child of the 20th century, so I google that shit.  Google can answer any question in the whole wide world.  They inform me that there’s a natural supplement, courtesy of Rise-N-Shine Inc (makers of other notable ingestibles like Go Away Grey and MenoPAUSE Chill Pills) that I can take before bed that has delayed release and will wake me up in the morning.

Google also pointed me toward an article in The Daily Mind, a site aimed giving “Eastern wisdom to make the daily grind more meaningful.”  They give such thought provoking tips like relaxing and going pee before bed, keeping your room comfortable and quite.  When it comes to actually waking up they advise that it’s best to wake up and exercise, breathe deeply, have something to be excited about and (my personal favorite) be grateful for not dying. Perfect.  I was going to hit snooze for an hour, but now that I realized I’m alive I have all of the energy in the world.

The problem with this site and many others I looked at is that they have tips for what to do before bed and what to do once you wake up, but nothing that tells me how to peel my eyes apart and put my feet on the ground.

I did find one article that seems to accurately understand the problem and even offers a way to fix it.  A guy named Steve Pavlina wrote a blog post titled How to Get Up Right Away When Your Alarm Goes Off.  He describes the bad decision justification really well:

The wrong way is to try using your conscious willpower to get yourself out of bed each morning.  That might work every once in a while, but let’s face it — you’re not always going to be thinking straight the moment your alarm goes off.  You may experience what I call the fog of brain.  The decisions you make in that state won’t necessarily be the ones you’d make when you’re fully conscious and alert.  You can’t really trust yourself… nor should you.

If you use this approach, you’re likely to fall into a trap.  You decide to get up at a certain time in advance, but then you undo that decision when the alarm goes off.  At 10pm you decide it would be a good idea to get up at 5am.  But at 5am you decide it would be a better idea to get up at 8am.  But let’s face it — you know the 10pm decision is the one you really want implemented… if only you could get your 5am self to go along with it.

The solution he offers is that you should practice getting up when the alarm goes off until it becomes rote memory and not a conscious decision.  Which means that when you’re at home during normal daytime or evening hours you put on pajamas (way ahead of you there, Steve) get in the bed and pretend that you’re asleep; you set the alarm for 2 mins from the time you lay down and basically walk through all of the steps of waking up.  I haven’t tried this yet but it’s really the only thing I’ve found that even acknowledges the poor decision making process that I struggle with daily.

The only issue that I see is one that pretty much pervaded all of the sites that I looked at:  you have to consistently go to bed and wake up at the same time each day.  That’s not really a problem during the week, but when it comes to the weekend I want to be able to stay up later and be social with my friends and I’m a huge fan of weekend afternoon naps.  Also, Scott and I are planning on starting a family soon and I’m pretty sure I could read the article aloud and explain the entire principle to an infant 20 times over and they still won’t give a shit that I need a consistent sleep schedule.

After more and more googling I came across psychology blogs and message boards with hundreds of people saying they have similar issues.  I visited a bunch of sites and saw diagnoses like narcolepsy, apnea, delayed sleep phase syndrome and a bunch of other disorders that I may or may not have.

One thing became clear though…lots of other people have this same problem and the obvious answer of “more discipline” may not be enough.  People spoke about how it began when they were kids and they chalked it up to irresponsibility.  But after awhile it became obvious that it was more than that.  To the point where they’ve overslept so much it has cost them their jobs repeatedly.  This is a huge fear of mine.  I’m late to work every single day.  At this point I’m lucky enough to have a supervisor who is flexible and isn’t super picky about what times I work as long as I hit my hours each week.  But that may not always be the case.

What can I do to fix this??  Oversleeping seems like such a silly benign problem to complain about; one that’s easily fixed with quick advice like “go to bed earlier” or “don’t allow yourself to use the snooze button.”  I wish it were that easy.  It’s like my brain is working against me and I don’t have the necessary control to do what I want.

This shit sucks, y’all 😦

Can I Do It?

February 4, 2011

My inherent narcissism is about this close to trumping my desire for privacy.

From the time I started this blog, a whopping 4 months and 20 posts ago (ok, only like 15 if you don’t count the one-liners), I wanted to keep it separate from my personal life.  I wanted to have the liberty to write about anyone and anything I chose.  Mostly because I like talking shit and I don’t want to have to censor myself so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings.  But now one simple little iPhone app has me reevaluating whether or not I really want to do that.

Twitter.

That whore.

I couldn’t have cared less about twitter before I got a fancy schmancy smart phone.  But now that I have the ability to share thoughts and photos on a whim I can’t get enough of that shit.  I’m in the early stages of what I can see becoming a crippling addiction.  I’m not the first to have this obsession, nor will I be the last.  That’s why twitter is such a whore; she makes it feel like the first time every time.

The problem is that I only have 17 followers.  About a third of them are bloggers that I read and enjoy who began following me when I followed them, a third are completely random and I have no idea how they got to my page (an Aspergers syndrome meet up in NYC?  Do my tweets seem socially awkward?), and the last third are a few of the people I met at a blogging conference I went to with my mom a couple of months ago.

(Although, I think I broke twitter etiquette.  I really enjoyed the conference and the people I met there, but some of their twitter feeds aren’t really what I’m looking for on a daily or hourly or minutely basis.  Some of them have different interests and senses of humor than I do.  Some continuously posted links, and that’s not really the type of twitter feed that draws me in.  For whatever individual reason I unfollowed them.  Not maliciously, but I felt guilty.  Was that a dick move?  If you’re reading this and I unfollowed you I do feel bad…but I guess my real response would be “Suck it, it’s just twitter.”)

It’s not really my lack of followers that has me wanting to come out, it’s my lack of followees.  I only follow two people I know in real life (Hi Mom!  Hi Kat!) and the rest are other bloggers and celebrities.  Mostly comedians.  Twitter would be much more fun if I knew of more people to follow.  The easiest way to do that would be to post on facebook.

And therein lies the rub.  My twitter account is linked to this here blog.  Which means that my real life people of all friendship levels, from besties and family to random people I’m friends with on fb but wouldn’t acknowledge in real life, would possibly read this.  I haven’t really written anything I’d be too concerned about yet.  But once you’re officially “out” you have zero control over who reads your shit.  Not that I have any control now, but I know that the majority of my readership comes either from carry overs from my mom’s blog or people who made their way here through comments I’ve posted on other blogs.  Which is pretty much nobody who actually knows me.

I don’t think I’ll ever post links to my blog directly on facebook.  But if I do post my twitter then anyone that goes to my profile there can follow it right back here.  Which kinda (hopefully?) means that only the more social media savvy folks would really be interested…and that those people are more likely to have blogs.  With 500+ facebook friends I’m certain that there are more blog writers than just the 3 I know of and I’m really interested in seeing who.  I enjoy reading about people I know.  It’s like facebook stalking with a thousand times more depth.  It may seem odd, but my own thinking on this little bloggie blog is that I don’t particularly care to share it with everyone (what?  that’s the whole point of a blog? *lalala I can’t hear you*), but for some reason I feel much more comfortable sharing it with someone else who has a blog.  I guess I just feel like they’d be less judge-y.  I’m always inclined to believe that if I think a certain way there’s a pretty good chance that plenty of other people think that way too.  Talk about narcissism.

 

So it seems that after typing this up I’ve pretty  much convinced myself to go public.  I really don’t think it’s going to be the big deal I’m making it.  I mean, how much attention do I think this little slice of heaven will really garner?  I’ll probably let the idea stew for a few days before I throw myself out there.

Until then, what do you think?  Are you an “out” blogger?  Has it made much of a difference?  If you don’t blog but like to read, do you tell the people that you know IRL that you read their blog or are you more sly and stalkerish about it?

Wha?

January 14, 2011

I will never understand people who post a status on facebook and then after getting a response they don’t like say something like “Get out of my business!”

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