The Misadventures of a JC Junkie

I never, ever blog more than once in a day.  I typically don't have time.  Today, though, is going to be an exception.  This is too good; and with my Alzheimer's and all, I'd forget by tomorrow.

As we've already established, I am a NUT JOB!  In fact, I am darn near certifiable (though some would argue that I'm full-blown).  As is typical of me, I took a seemingly boring day and turned it into an adventure.  Well, really, a misadventure!

As you all know, I am on the JC diet plan.  Every week I head down to my not-so-local consultant in Memphis for a weigh-in and my JC fix for the week.  I had an appointment at 9:45 am.  With the weather, though, my girl, Jess, said I could just come at any time before 1 pm.  This was at around 10 am.

Hmmm...  I need to get to down to Park Avenue before 1 pm.  It's 10 am now.  Piece of cake!  In his usual pessimistic manner, my husband hit the roof.  "You won't make it, dammit!  Can't you just wait until Monday?  Don't we have something here you can eat?"

Yea, if I were a a toothpick like you and could eat whatever I want without gaining an ounce or getting a pimple!  Needless to say, his negativity just fueled my determination.  I got dressed in warm clothes and grabbed the keys to his truck.  I figured nothing could be too bad for 4-wheel drive.  Right?!?

As I backed down our driveway, I looked at the mess around me.  Wow!  I didn't realize how bad we'd been hit with the ice and snow!  Our road looked much like that pretty, glistening ice skating rink in Central Park.  God, I love that place!  I wish I could take the kids to NYC to ice skate in Central Park.  Sorry...another ADD moment.  Where was I?  Oh, yea...so the road was basically a sheet of ice.

I was determined, though.  I'm still thinking that I can get to JC before closing.  If I drive really slow and don't hit the brakes too hard, I can make it.

After driving for nearly 40 minutes to the main thoroughfare that is less than a mile from my house, I thought I was finally in the clear.  I was sure that our one street sweeper would have cleaned off Rosemark Road.  After all, that's probably one of the busiest roads in the county.  It leads to the mall, for crying out loud!  No one cares if the kids go to school, but God forbid that commerce be hindered!

As is always my luck, things were not as I'd planned.  The main road was just an extension of the ice rink on my street.  Oh, crap!  I get my friend, L, on the 411 to tell her about the pickle my ridiculous pride put me into.  She told me to just turn around and go to Kroger.  She told me not to call my husband, but rather, tell him when I return that I just didn't "feel" like driving all that way.

I won't listen to the father of my children, the man I trust with my life, but now L is making sense.  So I turn around and start back towards our local Kroger.  I've already wasted a good hour on this little trip, but Kroger was a more logical choice.  No, it's not my usual cuisine but it will do.  Fine then!  I'm not happy about it, but what's a girl to do???

Just as I pull out of the gas station back onto the main road, a car coming from the opposite direction starts to swerve just a bit.  I hit the brakes.  Big mistake.  The other car corrected and drove on while I spun into a ditch!!!  OMG!  I was only going 5 freakin' miles an hour!!!  WTH happened? 

I tried to back out, but got stuck.  I tried to pull forward, but got stuck.  Luckily, a cop pulled up next to me and hit his lights.  Next a very nice man pulled over with some ropes to help pull me out.  Unfortunately, neither the ropes nor his truck were strong enough.  Another man pulls up with some official tow ropes, but that didn't work either.  I was freakin' stuck!

Then, in the distance, shining like the Aurora Borealis, I saw a tow truck!  Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.  The policemen flagged him down and worked out a deal.  Twenty bucks!  Can't beat that, now can I???  Uh oh, but wait...  I don't have $20 on me.  I'm a plastic girl!  I don't carry!  I'm a quick draw on the swiper, but I'm not even sure what a twenty-dollar bill even looks like!

If I weren't married and didn't have an aversion to kissing strange people, I would have kissed Timmy Kinney's Tow Service dude right there on the side of that damn road!  He pulled me out and handed me his card!  I offered to let him follow me home, but he told me to just forget about it!  I promised I'd mail him the money.  I've already written the check and put it in an envelope.

All the while, my husband was blowing up my phone with the "I told you so!  Damn it!" and some much stronger expletives I prefer not to mention.  Even after all that, I still went to Kroger and didn't get home until 3 pm.

Was I freakin' crazy??  Well, uh, yea.  We know that.  But what was I thinking??  I felt like some junkie going out in a blizzard to find my next fix.  I lost all marbles and risked my life for some high dollar, low cal cuisine.  Which, by the way, reminds me...  I know now why I never lost weight eating Lean Cuisines.  Have you ever read the labels on those things??  Those things have a lot of calories!  It took reading every label in the store to find a few things that were in the same calorie and fat range as JC food.

If I can one freakin' ounce while being snowed in, I'm blaming it on my husband!!!!         

Is "Clueless" an Actual Parenting Style??

We need the SuperNanny or Nanny Deb at my house!  I know I've written about this before; however, I'm coming from a different perspective.  The last time I talked about a Nanny 911, I was referring to how appalled I felt when my MIL from hell suggested it.  Now I'm thinking she was right  it would be fun to have my little lovelies show the rest of the world what angels act like.

After spending an entire day with the kids cooped up in the house, it's clear to me that my husband and I have no earthly idea what we are doing!  Seriously, how did we ever get this far?  We have zero control.  Our house looks like a Toys 'R Us dumpsite with toys scattered throughout.  I feel like my life has been taken over by the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse!  After a visit from Nanny Jo, we'll need the team from A&E's Hoarders to clean up. 

Most importantly, though, we need help with discipline.  We have no Discipline Plan at our house.  My husband and I just do what we had done to us.  I'm a Screamer and an Order Barker.  My husband is a Push Over and finally a Spanker (after being pushed over 50 gazillion times).  None of these are effective forms of discipline, but it's all we got...

Don't get me wrong.  I've read every discipline book written.  I have the Pocket Parent, Raising a Spirited Child, 1-2-3 Magic, What to Expect...you name it; I've read it.  The problem is that I start with the best of intentions.  I'm strong from the gate.  But I lose my focus after a lap or two, and the whole house goes apesh*t.  In the heat of the moment, I resort to my old habits.

As for my husband?!?  He's always a push over.  He looks to me for guidance.  I am the one that has to make all the decisions at our house.  Whatever you say, Mama...  I love the man, but he needs more backbone.  Every time my kids say jump, he does a cannonball!  My daughter is the worst.  He is her very own personal assistant.  If it weren't so frustrating, it would be kind of amusing.  Picture it.  A tiny little 3-year old walking her a fru-fru dog with an embellished Louis Vuitton collar while a 6' 4" man in a butler's uniform follows them around with a pooper scooper and a plastic baggie.  A funny mental image if it weren't my FREAKIN' life!

Yesterday, I went to the SuperNanny website for some light reading.  Lo and behold!  What do you think I found???  They are accepting applications for next season's families.  I know it's a long shot, but I am filling that sucker out!  I love my parents, but I definitely do not want to be like they were.  I don't remember my parents being affectionate towards me.  I only remember yelling and fighting.  And I know my husband doesn't want to be like his parents.  His daddy would whip him with a leather strap!  I think that is why he is so passive and non-confrontational; his daddy scared the Bee-Jee-zus out of him!

Of course, my MIL from Hell will think it was all her doings and want some sort of payment from the show.  If we get chosen, she will certainly want to be interviewed so she can say, "I been saying it all along -- those kids are bad!  They wouldn't act that way if I took 'em for a few weeks."  Probably not, but they'd be a couple of walkin', talkin' fashion violations with poop on the bottoms of their shoes. 

Now I ask you...which is worse?!?!     

Three Cheers For the Skinny Chicks...and a Freebie!

I cannot believe I'm doing this;  I have no shame.  I really want to win a Magic Bullet, though.  No, it's not, uh-hum, an "intimate" toy.  Get your mind out of the gutter!  It's a small blender!  And the maker is giving them away!  You have to enter to win, though.

http://www.stretchingabuckblog.com/2010/01/giveaway-magic-bullet-to-go.html#comment-6722

Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

The weight loss fever is really catching around here.  Today, It was very obvious to me that my friend, A, was losing.  She said she's down about 8 or 9 pounds.  She's been watching her diet and using weightwatchers.com.  Her hard work is paying off.  WoooHooo!  Go A!

Last week, my other friend, L, lost over 4 pounds!  She's on the JC plan with me.  Yes, it's expensive.  Yes, you have to eat their food.  But, man, it definitely works!  Of course, she is a beast at the gym too.  She did a Biggest Loser-style last chance workout before she went to her weigh-in.  It apparently did the trick because she's had a big loss in one week.

Losing weight is so hard, but it is so much easier to do when you have friends doing it with you.  My friends, though I love them, were some of my biggest saboteurs.  Every girls' night out revolved around food and libations.  We'd get together, eat lots of delectable food, and drink lots of even more delectable beverages.  Ahhh...good times!  Unfortunately, my mid-section suffered.

Now that we are all on a quest to get bikini bods by June, the food fests have ceased.  They've been replaced by strenuous workouts and food counseling sessions.  Instead of grabbing for the last cream puff, we are eyeballing the scrumptious carrot sticks.  Okay, that's a lie.  We are still eyeballing the cream puffs.  But now instead of reaching for the cream puff, we hesitate and stop for fear that one of the others will give us the evil eye.  We are all hell-bent on achieving our weight loss goals. 

This makes me think, poor Kirstie Alley...  Have you seen her lately?!?  She is a hot mess!  After losing all that weight and looking like a goddess, she went back to her gluttonous ways.  Where are her friends when she needs them?  Why doesn't someone smack that donut out of her hand before she puts it in her mouth?  Why aren't her friends meeting her at the gym?  The possible answer makes me sad.  What if she doesn't have any friends that will hold her accountable?  Poor Kirstie...

Back to us, though.  We are looking good, girls!  We are going to be the next BRAVO hotties sans the plastic surgery.  Yep, I can see it now -- The Real Housewives of Tipton County.  The weight loss fever is definitely better than the pregnancy bug...

Where Is That Darn Thing?!?!

I am seriously losing my mind!  At what age, I wonder, do the warning signs for Alzheimer's start to appear?  Regardless, the indicators are there flashing like big neon signs!  It won't be long before I leave for the mall and be gone for days because I do not remember where I live.

I used to think it was due to the brain cells I lost when I was pregnant.  Those never come back, ya know...  The older I get, though, the more my memory fails me.  I am forever LOSING things!  I think I put them in a logical, appropriate place.  Until I go to retrieve them.  :(

A couple of years ago, I bought my daughter this exquisite princess costume.  I bought the total look including the crown and the sparkly shoes.  Since it was on sale after Halloween, I put it up for later.  When it came time to wrap presents, I found everything except for those freakin' shoes!  I hunted high and low for those things.  I spent hours rummaging through the usual places but to no avail.  Finally, in July of the following year, my husband found them at the top of the closet.  I was so flustered because that is one of my usual stashes; I'd already looked there.  50 gazillion times!

This past Christmas I purchased personalized gifts for my children's teachers.  As always, I bought them before I had the tree up and put them "up."  I haven't seen them since October 2009. 

About a week ago, I bought a sassy little bangle to go with this dress.  On the same day that I purchased the bracelet, I bought a couple of bras and some make up.  I took the tags off the bras and put them in my lingerie drawer.  I took the make up out of the boxes and put it in my cosmetic bag.  I took the tag off the bracelet and placed it on my dresser near my jewelry box.  All the tags and boxes were put in the Macy's bag and taken to the trash.

Fastforward a week...  I am getting ready for a semi-formal event that we have at the high school each year.  I put on my pretty new dress and started to accessorize when, Awww HELL...  Where is that damn bracelet??  Not now; not again!!!  I looked everywhere!  I had to find an alternate cute-but-not-nearly-as-freakin'-perfect bracelet!

Today brought about my most recent Alzheimer's episode.  When I got to work this morning, I went to unlock my classroom door only to find that my door key is missing!!!  WTH?!?  It's sounding more like a Conspiracy Theory, I know, but who has access to all of my personal belongings?  The only logical conclusion is that I am certifiable!  All I need is a doctor to sign on the dotted line...send me to a nursing home before I hurt myself.

The Big G Speaks

If you don't know me and are reading this, you probably think I'm a nut job.  If you do know me, then, well...  You know I'm a nut job!

I went to the gym today after eating like a pig at a trough last night.  I was feeling guilty, so I had to torture myself on the elliptical.  As usual, I plugged in my headset to veg on a little TV.  I was hoping for some Jersey Shore or Teen Mom on MTV.  Unfortunately, all I could find was Dr. Phil.

Don't get me wrong; I don't mind Dr. Phil.  But when I'm trying to lose myself in something mindless, he is not my program of choice.  Since I always have on my big girl panties, I sucked it up and watched the Doc.  Don't you know the very first segment I saw was about a mom who neglected her kids and family because she was a Facebook junkie?!?  All I could think was OMG!  Am I neglecting my family?!?  I sure like the internet, and I definitely LOVE Facebook.  Crap, I have been on it for hours at a time when I probably should have been playing with my kids.

Oh, but that's not the end of it.  Since I hated the message on Dr. Phil, I switched the channel to CMT to watch a little Trading Spouses.  I figured it's usually good for a few laughs, and it always makes me feel better about my own family.  First of all, who signs up for this junk?  Seriously, you know they never swap normal families for similarly normal families.  Please...  It's usually the OCD clean freak who gets swapped for the easy-going, laid back hippy type.

The families today were no exception.  One thing stood out to me, though.  In one family, the husband was ALWAYS on his cell phone or laptop conducting business.  He literally stayed in his home office all day, every day, and completely ignored his kids.  I felt so bad for them.  Even worse, I started having those crazy thoughts again.  Damn, I spend way too much time on the internet.  Look at those sad faces.  Those kids want to spend time with their dad.  Hell, my kids probably feel the same way and want to spend time with their mom.

Why does God always speak to me???  Seriously...  Why do I have to be His fixer-upper?  What is so special about me that He feels the need to continually work at molding me into a good wife and mother?  Aren't there a few others out there needing Him more than I do?!?  I hate to question His work, but I can't help it. 

I have lived a wild and crazy life.  That is without a doubt.  There have been far too many occasions where I escaped something tragic and scary.  I could have been Natalee Holloway.  I could have been the Black Dahlia.  Heck, I could have been raped, murdered, run through a wood chipper, and dumped into the Tchoutacabouffa!!!  (For those of you who live North of I-10 that's pronounced choot-a-ka-buff.  It's a river down south.) 

I did stupid things and made poor decisions; yet, somehow I managed to live this long without becoming a statistic.  The odds were stacked against me; but, I was able avoid any major addictions or vices.  Hell, I don't even drink or smoke anymore.  Somehow I graduated college and even got a Master's degree.  I married an awesome man and have two of the most adorable kids anyone has ever seen.  I know for certain that God has always had a hand in my life.

But c'mon now...  Does He have to point out ALL of my areas of inadequacy?  I'm listening G; I'm listening.  Less time on the internet, more time with my family.  Thanks for the Divine intervention.     

My Disturbing Motivator

Phew!!!  I just spent 45 minutes on the treadmill.  I never do that!  I get bored too easily to give anything 45 minutes of my time.  However, I've finally discovered a cure for my ADD/short attention span.  Yes, ladies and gents, I can stay focused for hours, as a matter of fact.  Just turn on some MTV's Jersey Shore, and I'm in the zone.

I discovered this hour-long skank fest while at the gym.  I was dreading my workout and hoping my legs would actually fall off so I wouldn't have to do it.  I got on the elliptical machine and plugged in my headphones.  As surfing for 20 minutes through the gazillion channels using only those little up and down arrows, I came across a bar-room brawl.  Oh, wait...  What the heck is this?!?  Who are these scantily clad ultra-tan girls with the big boobies and the short skirts?!?  Oh, and who is that big, buff Guido-looking dude who just punched one of those girls?!!!  The rest, as they say, was history. 

Ever since that day, I've been stalking that show like a crazy woman!  I want more!  It's pretty pathetic, really, and to make things worse we only watch the Disney Channel or NickJr. at my house.  Every time I've tried to watch at home, one of my preschoolers starts tugging at my leg.  I'm already concerned about my daughter's fascination with "dancing."  I definitely don't want to encourage her to wear booty shorts and big hair at 4 years old!  I'm already praying each night that there won't be a pole in her future.

But, oh no!  How will I get my fix?!?  I need more!  I know...how about going to the gym on the weekends so I can catch up?!?  I could get on the elliptical or the treadmill and veg on "Jersey Shore" until I develop an annoying accent like Snooki.

Thank goodness I'm one smart cookie.  I also have to be thankful for the fact that my fat ass is lazy and won't go to the gym without some instant gratification.  Screw the heightened endorphins; give me my smut TV!  If it came on every day, I'd be at the gym every. freakin'. day.

I guess whatever gets you there, right?  I mean, I am going to the gym.  I am working my ass off (pun DEFINITELY intended)!  And all the while, I'm able to feed my new addiction.  Sure, my brain cells diminish by the millions every time I watch.  Hey, but my butt's getting smaller.  And right now, I'd rather be a thin woman with an IQ of 7 than a big, fat genius!

Freakin' Farewell Friday

It saddens me, but I must say farewell.  Yep, it's Farewell Friday.  After perusing all my guilty-pleasure blog spots, I still can't freakin' figure out what Friday is!  Consequently, I've taken the liberty of coming up with my own catchy, little alliteration -- Freakin' Farewell Friday.   ...cause it's Friday; you ain't got no job...and you ain't got sh*t to do.  (best movie EVER!)  Sorry another ADD moment...

Now, where was I?  Yes, Freakin' Farewell Friday.  I've designated this day a day for monumental farewells.  If you need to let go of something or someone, today is your lucky day!  Just Do It!  Kick it (or him or her) to the curb!  Leave no victims; just make it a clean break.

And in honor this auspicious occasion, I've decided to practice what I preach.  I am saying freakin' farewell!  With a heavy heart, I must bid farewell to my hairstylist, A. 

All kidding aside, it does totally sadden me.  She is a great hairstylist.  She's phenomenal with the scissors.  Her coloring skill are flawless.  She gets so close to the scalp!  You ladies know what I'm talking about.  She's a cavier calibur professional.  Not only that, she's a great person to hang out with.  She's got the goods on everyone in the tri-state area.  She's funny, and keeps me entertained the entire time I'm with her.

Why are we breaking up, you ask?  It's not her; it's me.  Well, it's not even me either.  It's the uptight biatch that she works for. 

A and I go way back.  Ya see, I live in a small town where they still frost hair with those caps and crochet needles.  I've literally shopped every salon in this area.  Each time, I came home with hideously outdated hair.  Don't they watch the Style channel (or any T.V. for that matter)??!?  Don't they know the mullet has been out of style for years?

Imagine the orgasmatic expression on my face after my first time with A.  OMG!  I looked H-O-T, hot.  My hair looked incredible!  Not only that, but she and I were giggling like BFFs in high school as she worked her magic.  Love bloomed and grew with each passing appointment.

Unfortunately for her, the crew of wenches she worked with left her high-and-dry in the middle of the night.  It seems not all was as blissfully, wonderful with the co-owners.  They got together and decided to part ways with poor A -- without even telling her!  Back-stabbing biatches, but I'll save that for a later edition.

With no partners, A could not afford to keep her shop open.  Instead, she went to another salon -- a perfectly logical, responsible thing to do.  She's still working, but without all the liability.  I am sure she is probably much happier.  Good for her!

Not me, though.  That new salon is too uptight for my liking.  That anal wench who owns the place is always so mean to my kids (who also get their hair cut by A)!  My kids are 4 and 5.  They are not heathens who tear up everything in sight.  They're not old enough yet.  The new place is not very kid-friendly, though.  There are no cheap toys, televisions, or DVDs to keep them entertained.  It has uncomfortable furniture so you can't really hang out there and read.  I admit, my kids love to play in those chairs, but only the ones that are NOT being used.  They aren't rough with the damn things and are usually over it in about 3 seconds.  And they like to get stuff out of that little bubble gum machine-looking vending machine.  Hell, I give them money!  They aren't stealing it, for Christ's sake!

The old shop, on the otherhand, was so homey and friendly.  They didn't care if you came in drunk needing a touch-up (just kidding...well, not really).  In fact, they always had a bottle of wine in the back in case you needed to get drunk!  And their own kids were always in the back room watching TV, doing homework, or playing.  They definitely did not care if my kids wanted to play.  In fact, they encouraged it.  Bring your kids!  Hell, bring the whole damn family and the dog, too.

Yep, those were the good ol' days.  Things have changed since then.  I'm just not feeling it anymore.  I'm afraid the spark is gone.  Ahhh...back to the plastic caps and crochet needles.  It's a good thing the '80s look is back in.