The Disappearing Urge...?

The Disappearing Urge. I have to believe that we've all experienced it one time or another.

[DISCLAIMER #1 - THIS POST ONLY GETS CLASSIER THAN THE REST FROM HERE.]


You are out somewhere utterly, totally and completely inconvenient when the urge strikes. It can begin subtly (but often doesn't). A small sensation, and you know what needs to happen (Stops by 00:00:45).

Easy right?

Never!!! 

You are most likely:

• In the middle of your presentation.
• You have a full grocery cart of frozen vegetables.
• You are walking your dog and are at the furthest point from home.
• You are in a mosh pit.
• You are on a wilderness hike.
• You are on a building inspection that is time sensitive, or worse yet, on a swing stage 23 floors up.
• You are in your car stuck in rush hour traffic.
• You are at a critical plot revelation during an intense movie in the theatre, in the centre of a long row.
• You are in a communal jail holding cell with a single shared toilet, and lots of people checking out your body. (This scenario is the most likely, I think).

Now, personally speaking from a year of essential stomach/GI paralysis, where things only ever came out if I was throwing up, you would think this would be a welcome brain/body-physiological message to someone like me. But no, trust me, it's not. I just think "Seriously??... Reeeally?..... Seriously? Right now? But... but...."

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The Importance of Followers & Comments

I read on another blog how important it is for there to be commenting and active dialogue between the blogger and the readers, so that it isn't so much one-sided storytelling.

I hope that those of you who come across my blog will be kind enough to "follow" me (to the right)

*shameless self promotion*

so that I feel that more than just BF and my friend J. are watching and reading me out there in the scary, vast, lonely interwebs.

I welcome any and all comments (including but not limited to - "you're effing nuts", "where can I purchase my own banana guns?", any and all theories on dogs and their fascination with the taste sensation known as poop [technically called "Coprophagia"], why I am so wrong about Michael B., requests for all of my personal banking information an pin numbers as well as helping princesses and diplomats from abroad via email who only need a few thousand dollars up front to make me rich).


EDIT: I didn't realize that you previously had to be 'registered' to comment. I have fixed it so that any shy folk out there can feel free to comment anonymously. Just don't be mean please.

While I am CLEARLY new to the blogosphere (that sounds really web-geeky but I still won't backspace and delete it... because I am bada-.... lazy), any and all support you guys can provide is appreciated.

I would also like to stress the importance of not drinking caffeinated beverages right before bed time, especially if you are on a strict, caffeine-free diet. Because that will almost CERTAINLY result in insomnia, somewhat-desperate sounding appeals for blog followers, and potentially beating your highest score ever on Word Bubbles after many many many many attempts! (Which sounds kind of fun, but really isn't right now).

It's hard to be taken seriously on this blog with my stunning good looks....

Okay, time to try to pretend to sleep. Work is going to be painful tomorrow.... Pin It Now!

The Dreaded Nudie Photo

Anyone ever accidentally taken an indecent photo (accidentally) then forgot to delete it/didn't realize it was there/download it to your work server?

Yeah, me neither, just checking.

She's just in a strapless dress, sticking her tongue out at you, correct?

Now Miley Cyrus on the other hand.... Pin It Now!

The Evil (Skinny) Naturopath

So back in February my family doctor convinced me to attend a 'free' weekly nutritional information session in the Naturopathic clinic in the same building as her office. "It's free!" she said "It will be good for you!" she said "It can't hurt, you eat pretty badly" BF said (in front of her... damn, busted).

So I agreed and hoped to learn something.

After the month of lovely (read: nasty, but free!) herbal teas and VERY generic, top line nutritional information, we were encouraged to make an appointment with the naturopath.

Those of you who know me must realize at this point that cynical, skeptical me was on to their schemes from the beginning (I did say to BF that they will totally try to sell nutritional stuff). Also, you will know I fearlessly speak my mind and can't be pressured into uncomfortable situations by people I perceive to be smarter or in some type of position of power (you know, pretty much ANY combination of letters after their name). Stop laughing!!

SO I BOOKED ME AN APPOINTMENT! YAY! ER.... Read on. (See? Willpower of steel, bitches).

She was very skinny, trendy, well dressed, perfectly coiffed, intense. I was intimidated immediately. We then spent the next 6 hours reviewing my medical history and all the shizz that's wrong with me. (Again, I NEVER dramatize, but I still think it was just under 2 hours... I'm THAT special!). You can decide what kind of special.

Approximation of thinness and height of evil Naturopath

Her conclusion:
All kinds of problems that could only be solved by spending money on:

• "liver cleansing" (because she could practically *SEE* how dirty my ole' liver was)
• "candida eradication" (because that stuff normally occurs in every human being on earth, but it was likely the root of all my evil health stuff, so let's kill that shizz!) and 
• I don't even know what else. But there was more

But it wasn't the supplements that made her evil. Oh no. It was the following diabolical scheme between her and the nutritionist. She happened to mention that I could no longer eat the following:

• dairy
• wheat
• soy/tofu
• caffeine
• eggs
• nuts (other than cashew and macadamia) (side note, allergic to cashews, hate macadamias) (extra edit - didn't know I couldn't eat cashews until 4 months after this)
• corn
• ANYTHING with sugar. Including fruit.
• Yes, that's right, no fruit
• beans
• nightshade vegetables (I'm not even sure what they all are, but I was told no peppers, eggplant, tomatoes, potatoes, too)
• Anything with gluten

I can have NONE of these yummy things! (Photo credit)

I think there's more, but if you pick up a container of anything around you, you will find at least two of these ingredients in there. I guarantee it. (Well maybe not hot, muscle-y abs, but the rest).

And that is how I started this horrible diet-change journey. It was necessary to stop the constant nausea and stomach pain and bloat.... but it's been soooooooooooooooo hard.

The skinny evil Naturopath mentioned this casually, then she floated back to her office, telling me to make a follow up visit.

Did I mention I was already vegetarian? Yeah, seriously.

I now have a love/hate (mostly hate) relationship with rice. 'Cause it is kinda all I can eat.

But you know what? I am SUCH a rebel, I eat some fruit, or watered down fruit juice, sometimes even DAILY now. I bet you all had no idea that I am such a badass.

Yup. Badass.

I'm going to make gluten-free crusted pizza.... WITH CHEESE~!

SO badass it hurts. No wait... that's my stomach that will be hurting tomorrow.....

So, on the day I was     this.close   to fainting before getting into my car, because my sugar was so low, I decided I needed another naturopath.

Damned if she didn't tell me the same things. And sell me more shizz. And I bought it.
BUT - SHE said I could have chocolate occasionally!!! (therefore she is not evil).

That is all. Pin It Now!

Randomness With Purpose

This is simply to bump down my last post so I don't have to look at that SOB's face....

Ever wonder why dogs eat their poop? But turn their nose up to certain dog foods? Seriously. What THE HELL must be in that dog kibble?

May or may not occasionally sample his own stool

Just sayin'. Pin It Now!

Michael Bublé Incites Rage

[EDIT - November 2016] - I wrote this post years ago, and it still gets a surprising number of reads. I am an asshole, no doubt. This is mindless blather. I've just recently learned that Mr. Buble's son, Noah, an innocent and certainly wonderful little 3 year old boy has been diagnosed with cancer. I extend my actual real sincere heartfelt concern to him and his family at this time. I have a 3 year old, and I can't imagine the agony, fear, sadness and turmoil they must be experiencing. So, yes, I am obviously an asshole with my irrelevant post below, but I hope Noah can overcome this.... as quickly as possible. Make a full recovery and that he will flourish and the family can rest easy. 

 _________________________________________________________________________


Yes, I said it. It's totally irrational, not at all logical, and unclear even to me. But it's true.

The moment I even hear his name uttered, I can feel the hairs raise on the back of my neck (and not in a good way). I cannot change the radio station fast enough when his voice comes on. It makes me blind with rage, for some strange reason.

Exhibit A: MB causing inner rage right now. Probably will never be able to look at this post again. Thanks a lot.

In my mind, I overlap his face with John Mayer which automatically gives him about 90,000 points for douchey-ness. "But Stephanie," you say "he is NOT John Mayer so why punish poor Bublé?". You might also say "Stephanie, don't start sentences with the word BUT".  Who knows, I can't read your minds, people.

Exhibit B: Douchebag Mayer (anyone who hurts Team Aniston is no friend of mine, kids)

 See, not really similar. Except for the douchiness.

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Finally! A New Bathtub! Yay! Er... wait....

So after two years of a dripping bath faucet, and endless guilt surrounding said wasted water and imagining how globally irresponsible that is, BF agreed to a bathroom reno.

At first, with the help of my DAD, we tried to replace the cartridge. (Now, I know you're thinking, but why do you have printer components in your bathtub?... Okay, no you're not, you're thinking, when will this be amusing?).

So, easy fix, we find a replacement cartridge and all will be well... right?

It ALLLLLL started here.. ish.

Alas, this little water-controlly-thingie in the deep depths of the wall is original to the home and can't be found in any plumbing store on earth. NO DICE, shit out of luck. Okay.. well, that means we need to replace the whole faucet and taps... which means:

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So Many Ideas To Post...

So I have been paralyzed by the possibilities of what I can write about on this blog (the address of which I have yet to share with family and friends).

Can I talk about THAT thing that pissed me off the other day? If I provided my stream-of-consciousness thinking on that subject, would it only confirm to my nearest and dearest that I am, in fact, undoubtedly, insane? (Well, probably, but perhaps that wouldn't be new anyway)?

I am thinking about my daily experiences wondering if it could potentially make an amusing blog post... then I realize that it probably only seems funny inside my head. Ah well.... the whole point of this thing is to be an outlet for me, to blab on about meaningless things and all that jazz.

First order of business? Shit, I don't know. I TOLD you already, I'm paralyzed by ALL the possibilities.
From here on out I am going to have to force myself to post about whatever pops into my head, good or not, because otherwise I will never get started on this thing.

Maybe my next post should be entitled "procrastination - a how to guide by a seasoned expert"... or something like that. Or you could just read Allie's awesome post about it here. And yes, you're welcome. Pin It Now!

The Uber-Creative "My First Post" Post

So... as I embark on my blogging journey there is this overwhelming feeling and need to be witty. Different. Captivating. And super good looking. Okay, wait, nope, that's my boyfriend's (BF) job, not mine.

I thought that perhaps blogging could be an outlet for all the weird shit that runs through my mind on any given day... maybe ramble online and spare BF and THE MOTHER the painful conversations that are mostly one sided (me talking) because I'd post it all here and have other lurkers who will admit to thinking the same random, weird thoughts I do.

But that might be aiming too high. And who wants that? I say, aim low and you won't be disappointed. As badly. Oh shit, wait, that's Get Low.

There are so many options... I won't have the deep meaningful insight to serious challenges like my friend Rob over at Auditory Illusions. I won't be nearly as funny or ADHD as Allie Brosh over at Hyperbole And A Half (plus that girl's got MAD MS Paint skills that cannot be compared).

But maybe I can just write about crazy stuff, stupid things, inane ridiculous daily events that piss me off and make me honestly say out loud, "seriously?? really? seriously?".... 'cause Imma freak like that.

And if it doesn't work out? Abandon ship. Aim low.

Or if THAT fails, you could just get low low low low low low low low.

The way I see it, either way I will make THE MOTHER proud, as always.

See? THE MOTHER would be proud of this photo being published to the interwebs. I wonder how she handles all that welling-uppedness of pride?

Keep reading or I will come after you with my banana guns. Okay, that was lame. Pin It Now!