I took a juggling class from an old vaudevillian fellow. I was probably about 13 at the time. He would say "atta boy..." which was really insulting, as you can imagine, being a girl and all. I did have short hair, and maybe I can blame it on his cataracts, but still I never forgot that slight. Maybe that's why I've always sucked at juggling. Trauma. Anyway, I do. I could get those three balls going once, twice, maybe three times around before one would decide to defect and escape sideways. DOH!
So this month I haven't posted much at all, except a pathetic attempt at hydration. Yes, pathetic. I have to remember: simply saying "From now on, I have to (fill in the blank)" doesn't make it happen. I haven't been all that successful at hydration. This month I've worked a lot. That's about it. Oh and I've eaten REALLY badly. And I haven't exercised at all. Why? Because I suck at juggling. Back on December 31st, I included a quote by Mark Twain about resolutions. He nailed it, old Sam. Yes, I've been paving the road ever since... jiggling, not juggling. My home's in disarray, my dirty laundry is growing mountainous, my fridge is filled with neglected fruits and vegetables (ranging from dry and faded to slimy), my gym bag's gathering dust, the cat's getting clingy, and my credibility's completely kaput (to me, at least). Must have forgotten to do my daily positive affirmation over that bowl of organic quinoa. No, wait, I forgot the quinoa in my frenzied grab for those cute little bags o' Famous Amos and Cheez-its.
So... it's absolutely irrefutably now confirmed: I am an emotional eater. When I'm stressed, anxious, super busy, I carbo-load. I won't even try to list the outrageous ways I've been acquiring and consuming food in February. Tracking my points? HAH! This is BIG-time defiant denial happening here.
I made cupcakes for the first time in my life a couple of days ago -- red velvet cupcakes with butter and cream cheese on top. Cupcakes? -- moi? I went right out and bought cupcake pans and those little paper cupcake thingies so I could undertake this important mission. Why?! I don't even eat sweets, usually, and now I have this urge to bake cupcakes??? Well, okay, I heard my (temporary) co-workers talking about these designer cupcakes and decided to bake up a batch, because I have so much leisure time. I thought it would be a nice "farewell" gesture. So I'm up late, past midnight, spraying powdered sugar and cream cheese over every available surface, in my attempt to create the perfect cupcake (for what, I could no longer recall). And then I get up the next morning around 4:30 to finish the job -- presentation is very important. Oh, and I made two kinds of brownies, too. I am now officially insane. Of course, I have to taste them, to make sure they're good enough. I get so full of tasting I lose my sense of taste, but my sense of disgust and self-loathing is approaching an all-time high.
So what's the point of all of this? I don't have to have a point, it's my blog. I don't even care if it matters. So there! Take that, you critics of titles of blogs. I've had too much sugar and I'm turning into The Fly. Do you think The Fly cared about "stuff that matters?!" The Fly is beyond caring!! The Fly wants pepperoni pizza with Classic Coke, pulled-pork po' boys, Haagen-Dazs ice cream bars and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. Num-num-numb...
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
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