Category Archives: Uncategorized

I’m Pretty Much a Motivational Speaker

There’s no shortage of inspirational accounts on the Internet, and unless you’re new here, I am not one of those accounts.

OK. Maybe I’m being a little hard on myself. I decided to take a look at some of my tweets and updates and see if maybe I’m mistaken, if maybe I am actually some sort of motivational speaker and I don’t even realize it!

After two minutes of careful evaluation, it turns out I can be inspirational in several different aspects of life. Sure, it’s not “conventional,” but one can not be picky when one spends more time picking out a head of broccoli at the store than she does picking out her clothes in the morning. 

First of all, there is my prowess in the kitchen and around food:


The only time I’ve ever cut carbs is when I was slicing a bagel.

7:30: Eats breakfast. 7:35: Checks clock and mentally calculates how long until I can eat lunch.

I successfully opened a plastic produce bag at the store in under 2 minutes and the manager gave me my own reserved parking spot in the lot.

I react to the smell of fresh bread the way a cat reacts to the sound of a can opener.

The most unrealistic thing about commercials is when it shows people actually sharing a frozen pizza.

It turns out the answer to my problems wasn’t at the bottom of a jar of cashew butter, but the important thing is that I tried.

And my extraordinary social skills: 


On second thought, maybe faking my death was a slight overreaction to being stuck in a group text.

The woman who cut in front of me at the store had a box of tampons, ice cream, and wine in her cart. I wasn’t about to mess with that situation.

Home is where the people aren’t.

My friend just got her Ph. D, and I’m just over here wondering why they don’t make the macaroni out of cheese in the first place.

Them: Good morning!
Me: This feels like a personal attack.

Saw a guy throw a fit and then walk into an automatic door, so it’s been a pretty solid day over here.

I can be socially awkward, but not “Interview portion of Jeopardy” socially awkward.

Not to mention my domestic disability dominance: 


“My lavish lifestyle affords me certain luxuries,” – I say as I place a new Kleenex box that perfectly matches my bathroom on the toilet.

Welcome home, new body wash. Meet your family: a half-full bottle of conditioner and 983 almost empty bottles of shampoo turned upside down.

I like to do laundry in stages. For example, right now I’m in denial that I should be doing laundry.

Nothing travels faster than a roll of toilet paper you drop while sitting on the toilet.

The cashier at the dollar store told me to have a good day like my purchase of shelf liner suggested any other plan.

Unfortunately, “weather stripping” isn’t what I thought it was, and the employees at Home Depot didn’t care for my little dance.

I establish my dominance as the alpha neighbor by putting my trash out on the curb before everyone else.

Not to mention just living my life to the fullest: 


Monday through Friday: Hits the snooze three times in the morning.
Saturday: Wakes up before the alarm would go off during the week and can’t get back to sleep.

My personality is 30 percent genetic, 10 percent environmental, and 60 percent whether or not I’m hungry and slightly inconvenienced.

I tripped but then I found an almond on the floor, so it’s true what they say about one door closing and another one opening.

Don’t sweat the small stuff. Lump it all together with the big and medium things so you can have a major breakdown instead.

I just stapled the hem of my workout pants like some kind of white trash fashion MacGyver.

It took me five minutes to realize why the unplugged toaster wasn’t working, so I just went ahead and used my college degree as a napkin.

I just used a real trash bag in my bathroom instead of a plastic grocery bag like I’m some kind of Rockefeller or something.

So, as you can see, I basically have inspiration coming out of my pores. No, wait, that’s garlic. Oh well. At least  I tried. 

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Why Halloween Is Just Really Weird

It’s just about Halloween, that time of year when tricks and treats and spooks and scares dominate stores and social media. It’s a fun fall tradition—mostly if you’re a kid, of course—but have you ever really thought about how weird most of this stuff is?

Of course you haven’t, so I’m here to do it for you.


Haunted Houses

Let’s start here because the fact of the matter is that people are paying a minimum of $20 to wander through a darkened establishment in which aspiring actors dressed as creepy clowns and ghouls jump out and attempt to scare them. Any other time of year this would most likely result in attempted assault/harassment charges and a stint in a much scarier house—the big house.

But in October? Fun! Let’s pay strangers to freak us out! I don’t need to do that. You know what scares me in equal measure for no cost at all? The psychotic level of excitement parents have in eating their kids’ Halloween candy, Facebook notifications that I’m tagged in a picture, sneezing while driving, or losing the Internet for more than five minutes.

In other words, if I want candy, costumes and creepiness, I can go to WalMart and wander among the shoppers any day of the week.

Apple Bobbing

Let’s fill a giant basin with water, throw in fruit, tie peoples’ hands behind their backs, and shove their face into the water in an attempt to force them to grab the apples with only their teeth.

In other words, it’s waterboarding for fruit. Let’s move on.


I covered Halloween décor last year, but in October those cobwebs in your house normally considered something to be removed are now festive and fun. And while hanging a skeleton or ghost from a tree in August would put you on the Neighborhood Watch list, it’s now a sign that you’re a house that probably passes out candy come Oct. 31 instead of turning off the light and hiding behind the couch to ignore the doorbell (hypothetically speaking.)

That’s right. You can dress up as a sexy nurse and hand out candy to children and not wind up on “To Catch a Predator.” Just put a wreath on your door and leave your porch light on for the little beggars.

Corn Mazes

My internal GPS is MIA and I get lost in a walk-in closet. In other words, the idea of wandering through a maze of maize with strangers bumping into me while we all try and find our way out before desperately gnawing on a corn cob in desperation for our survival isn’t at the top of my list. I’ve done it before, and the only way I’ll pay money to do it again is if at the end I’m awarded with an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet and luxury spa.

Pumpkin Carving

The fact that they sell pre-cut apples and butternut squash, pre-hardboiled eggs, and “Uncrustables” at the store proves that people have become ridiculously lazy when it comes to prepping food.

However, when it comes to Halloween, people round up the troops and often trek through pumpkin patches—pumpkin spice latte in hand— to pick out a giant fruit they will festively disembowel over the span of several hours, bent scooping spoons, and broken carving knives.

They will then shove a candle inside and leave it neglected on the porch until it looks like a toothless meth addict before throwing it behind the fence for the squirrels to enjoy.

But with all that said, tradition is important and Halloween kicks of the holiday season—for better or worse with that whole statement—and gets you prepared to fist a bird carcass for Thanksgiving and hang old socks on the fireplace for Christmas (or whatever it is that you celebrate.)

For now, Happy Haunting!

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Find the Food in Every Situation

I’m pretty sure there are two kinds of people in this world, and both probably annoy me in some way. But for this post, I’ll say there are people who cut their sandwiches diagonally and those who are wrong. 


Don’t ask me why, but it tastes better that way. When I see someone just pick up a sandwich and eat it without a) cutting it in some way or b) actually enjoying what they’re eating and just scarfing it down, I get twitchy. 

There are also other weird things I do, many of which I won’t mention for fear you’ll never come back here again.

But I eat most things out of bowls–in part because it makes it less likely I’ll spill something on myself; I prefer plastic spoons for some reason; I like to eat the top layer of lasagna noodles first and then the rest of the piece; when I have something with multiple parts like a big bowl of goodness, it’s veggies, then protein (like beans) and then the rice/farro/grain, etc. 

So, that’s the short list. But before you think I’m a nut, you should know I’m not alone!

I was on Reddit for work and came across a thread asking about unusual food habits. Behold the neurotic noshers…

I first eat everything that I don’t (really) like and then move on to the better stuff. And when I’m almost done I eat the thing that I like the most.
It’s kind of a reward for myself for eating crap that I don’t like, like dessert!

I only eat with plastic utensils, even in restaurants.

I can’t eat a swiss roll without unrolling it. First you peel off the layer of chocolate icing and eat it, then you eat the roll by unrolling it, and you’re left with the center as a skinny little log full of icing.

My co-worker 1.) Takes his sandwich out of the fridge. 2.) Removes the single slice of swiss cheese. 3.) Eats his sandwich. 4.) Places the cheese slice on a plate. 4.) Puts this in the toaster oven until melted. 5.) Proceeds to eat the cheese with a fork and knife. Mitch if you are reading this, IT’S WEIRD.

I also can’t eat certain things without a specific beverage. Buttered toast goes with tea, peanut butter on toast goes with coffee, Chinese goes with cider, etc.

I like to eat popcorn with chopsticks so that my fingers don’t get dirty.

Skittles, M&Ms, etc. have to be divided and eaten in a certain order. My preference for M&Ms is brown and orange last.

When picking up a hamburger, it’s important to flip it upside down, then take the bite out of it. I find it less messy and it tastes better because the condiments to touch your tongue a lot sooner.

I have to shake every non-carbonated beverage before I drink it. Even water.

I first eat a small amount of each component to determine how tasty they are. Then I’ll eat them in round-robin style until there is the exact amount of each component that will make one final perfect bite as the last experience of the dish.

I like to tear a Twinkie apart lengthwise (the top rounded part, to be exact), tongue out and eat the filling, then enjoy the cake part very last.

I eat only half of the sandwich, then take apart each individual ingredient and eat them separately. I do this for all sandwiches. Burgers, cheesesteaks, wraps, whatever. It must be made into a whole then broken down again.

I peel and eat the crust off Chicken McNuggets before eating the actual chicken.

I can not eat a Twix without disassembling it as I go. First I’ll eat the chocolate, then I’ll eat the caramel, and finally I’ll eat the cookie. 

I’m the weird compartmental eater that always eats the sides last. So using the burger and fries example, I eat the burger, then the fries, then I drink my drink. Very rarely will I take a sip of drink while eating, but for the most part, the drink is last.

People always look at me like I’m insane when I eat pancakes. I eat the center and leave the outer edge. I just prefer the middle part. It’s softer.

After cooking the Pizza Rolls, insert a Cheez-It into the little slit that opens up during the cooking process–soft and crunchy.

I like to put ketchup on my french fries individually–just a line of ketchup down each fry. It’s time consuming, but somehow relaxing in a way.

Pop-Tarts – Break a pastry in half, then the half in half, then eat the quarters in two bites with milk for each. Repeat. 

Rebuttal: Almost. You have to nibble the crust off, then carefully separate the top from the bottom using a sliding motion. Then you eat the bottom, leaving the glorious frosted top for last.

I carefully take the chocolate off of a Three Musketeers bar, one side at a time. It’s extra special if I manage to pull off an entire side in one piece. After eating the chocolate pieces, I proceed to roll the fluffy filling into a ball with my hands and eat that in one bite.

I eat tacos from the top-middle part and work my way down from there.

With Reese’s Cups I nibble around the whole outside and then eat the middle, and when I eat a hamburger, I eat all around the outside as well so that my last bite has all of the good stuff on it.

I can’t start eating unless I have something to watch. For example, I will sit with my food on my lap and not touch it until the credits have finished rolling. 

So, spill it–not the food, but the weird things you do with the food. 

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Should You Use the Self-checkout?

I have written several times about the victories and defeats that happen each and every time I set foot in a grocery store–which is a minimum of four times a week–but there’s one thing I can no longer stay silent about.

Well, there are many things I can’t stay silent about, but this one is tops on the list–the self-checkout lane.

What should be an easy process–get in line, scan, pay, leave–is complicated by the fact that a) machines are machines and b) most people are not in fact smarter than the machine and make me question the whole theory of evolution.

So because I’m a helper, I have created a series of simple questions that will determine whether or not you should use the self-checkout lane.


1. Can you count to 12? 

First of all, I’m referring to the Express self-checkout lanes. The sign says 12 items or less. It does not say, “Everything you can stick in the small-ass cart you chose instead of regular cart.”

And that does not refer to the number of item types, but the actual item count. For example, those 35 cans of soup that took you 15 minutes to pick out does not count as a single item. You are not a special snowflake. If everybody ignored this rule, it would just be a regular line.

So if you can’t count to 12, go through that regular line.

2. Can you form a straight line? 

In most cases, there are two sets of checkouts–three on each side. This does not mean that a line forms behind each one. There is one line–ONE LINE–that forms in the middle behind these two rows of machines.

And this is the important part: If you’re the first person in line, do not stand eight feet away from the middle of the two sides of checkouts, therefore blocking the rest of the floor for all the other shoppers and causing the line to snake all the way back through the produce section.

One line. A couple feet back from the registers. Not complicated.

3. Can you find the barcode on a product or match a picture on the screen to your product?

In order to scan an item, you have to scan the barcode. Find the barcode, scan it, and move on with your life. If there is no barcode, as is often the case with produce, they provide a menu on the screen that looks like a children’s matching game. See banana? Press banana button.

Yay! Look at you!

4. Can you put items in a bag?

You must place your scanned item in the bag. If you actually remembered to not only bring your reusable bag from home but also remembered to bring it into the store–showoff–use it and bypass trying to open the plastic bags provided (pretty good call.)

Either way, place the item in the bag. That’s it. If you put it back into your small-ass cart, the voice will yell at you that “an item has been removed.” If you place it there before you scan it, it will yell that there is an “unexpected item in bagging area.”

It’s all about timing. Scan. Place in bag. Proceed.

5. Can you flatten money to insert into the slot?

The voice coming out of the machine gives you two clear options–swipe card on the PIN pad or insert cash. That’s it. They’re telling you what to do. Don’t act surprised and look around, don’t pull out a wad of crumpled bills and expect them to be accepted, and don’t ask if you can write a check. 

You will always have to pay for your groceries. Swipe, insert bills, get a gold star. And seriously? A check? 

6. Can you move along when you’re done?

If there is a long line behind you, do not stand there when you’re done and read your receipt and all 300 extra pieces of paper that get pumped out of the printer with it like it’s a treasure map. There is nothing on that paper that is so important that you need to throw on the brakes and cause a backup.

Shuffle up a few feet and by all means, feel free to make a day out of your perusal. Just don’t block the now-vacant machine. Move it along there, buddy.

So I think that sums things up.

If you answered “no” to any of the questions above, reflect a bit on your limits, swallow your pride, and proceed to the nearest employee-manned checkout. 

Don’t be a hero.

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Cutting the Cord

Last week felt like that moment you get in your car and hear only the last two seconds of your favorite song. Things most certainly could be worse, but it was a series of frustrations—a $200 bee exterminator fee, a leaking faucet, etc.—that culminated with me actually writing a blog post.

(I know. I should have called my sponsor for an intervention.)

Anyway, to say that Comcast is a frustrating company is to say that a Kardashian takes a selfie or two now and again. This won’t be a (well-deserved) Comcast rant—but it’s an important detail to the story.

I was working on Friday morning when all the sudden both my TV and Internet went out. Great. I immediately freaked the hell out—in part because I work from home and in part because that’s my default mode when things are out of my control, which is super helpful.

I looked outside and there was literally a cable cut and hanging out of a tree into the street in front of my house.

Not a good sign.

Long story short, it culminated in more than 13 phone calls to Comcast, five live chats, etc. and being told that since it was a safety hazard it was a “top priority” and “escalated” for techs who would be out there that day by 1…and then by 4 and then 5.

See where this is going?

It was a whole day of supervisors lying to me, apparently, because no one actually showed up to my house until 1 pm on Saturday. In fact, the energy company had to remove the cable from the road because of safety reasons that Comcast evidently didn’t find quite important enough to address.

Anyway, here’s the moral of the story (other than the hatred I have of Comcast.)


I enjoy my job. My job is 100 percent online, and I enjoy being online even when I’m not working. But there comes a point when you’re forced to go without it, and you’re forced to face reality—and not in a virtual sense.

I should preface this with the fact that the issue goes way deeper than just being online with me—my OCD, depression, exercise addiction, etc. have been out of control these past months and it’s a separate post.

But it took literally having this cord cut for me to realize how much I retreat to a repetitive world, covering the real issues with a virtual Band-Aid.

In those rare moments when I’m not working, I mindlessly click around the same few websites, TV show in the background that I’m not really watching anyway.

It’s really a metaphor for so many other issues with me (see above.) Is it easier to dig deeper and take steps to be healthy and happy long term or distract myself with overexercising and the Internet and worry about real life later?

Click. Walk. Click.

The thing is, it’s easy to rationalize.

I don’t have a smartphone because I don’t want to be one of those annoying people constantly checking my phone in line, in the car, when talking to people, etc. Yet everyone ignores how destructive this behavior can become because there are so many other people who do the same thing.

It’s easy to rationalize my OCD/exercise addiction because there are so many people who ignorantly claim to “wish they had my problem,” even though my health is so bad I should probably be hospitalized and the emotional (and physical) investment I place on these routines completely disrupts—and in fact, pretty much rules—my life.

Maybe part of it is that we (I) don’t always feel like there’s really anything else to stop for because these things become the life that we’ve created, for better or worse. To cope with certain things, we develop habits that have nothing to do with actual meaningful goals just so we have a distraction, a way to fill the time.

For me, even living with the constant “something is seriously wrong here” feeling, I often can’t make myself stop doing what I know isn’t healthy.

It would take being put in the hospital again to get me to stop exercising. It would take having my depression get so bad that I scare myself in order to go back to therapy. And it did take having the cord literally cut for me to realize how purposeless so many things have become.

Yes, we all need distractions—they aren’t all bad, that’s for sure. But we (I) also need intention.

I was able to work from my mom’s on Friday and Saturday, and once the basic stuff was out of the way and I had “fun” time, you know what I did?

I sat staring at the computer screen wondering what the hell I was doing. It took me 10 minutes to go through Facebook and Twitter and email, and then…mindless clicking. And then something clicked. There was nothing I needed that second that wouldn’t be there when things worked at home again. 

So I shut it off.

I went home and finished a magazine. I put in a DVD (that still worked even though cable was out) and actually watched it—not just had it on in the background while I was online. I wrote a rambling blog post that probably 10 people will read. 

And while it was a pain in the ass for two days, life went on, as it tends to do. 

Because unlike service from Comcast, you can always depend on that. I owe it to myself to pay attention. 

So do you. 

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Proof That Kids are Clueless

As kids, we’re pretty much clueless (a state most of us maintain through adulthood, but whatever.) Anyway, I thought you could get pregnant by just kissing someone and that everyone could pretty much use their grandma’s bra as a hammock.

In other words, until we’re told the actual facts–and in the case of the birds and the bees, wishing we never knew–we just operate on assumptions.

Where am I going with this? I have to peruse Reddit for work, and there was a thread about misconceptions people had as kids. It’s funny, so I’m sharing some of the gems below.

Your mission–should you choose to accept it–is to add your own in the comments. Entertain me, people.

I thought new words came about by important people in suits sitting in some kind of board room adding new words to the dictionary everyday, much like people pitching product ideas to a board.

I thought that signs that said “End Construction” were placed there by a group of people who were generally opposed to road construction.

I believed that maps only showed half of the Earth- the “front half”- and that there was an entirely different “back half” that you weren’t taught until you were older. I thought that’s where places like Oz and Neverland were located.

I used to think that “up yours” was a compliment, in much the same way as “upvote” or “thumbs up” is.

I thought that there were gnomes living in every single traffic light that were in charge of controlling it. Logically, one gnome wore a red hat, the other wore a yellow hat, and the last one wore a green hat. They had a little stepladder for the red gnome because he wasn’t tall enough to reach.

I didn’t discover that Alaska was not adjacent to Hawaii until I was twenty four. I thought you could practically swim from one to the other, and I couldn’t understand why their temperatures were so different.

I thought dogs and cats were the same species, just that dogs were male and cats were female.

I use to think my mom could “stop the rain”. When she was driving and it was raining, she would say “Rain, stop in 3..2..1.. NOW.” (Now would be right when we would go under a bridge in the freeway) and then say “GO!” when we were coming out from under the bridge.

Milk came from the white cows and chocolate milk came from the brown/darker cows.

I thought the signs that said “Do Not Pass” meant that you can’t go any further. I always got scared that we’d get pulled over whenever we went past one of those.

I was told moths ate clothing. I took this at its most literal meaning—that if a moth landed on me it would eat the clothes right off of my back. For years, I would run out of the room in fear if I saw a moth anywhere near me.

Thanks to the Alphabet Song, I thought “elemeno” was a letter.

The advertisements for pads and tampons confused me till I was 13. I thought they made you better at sports or helped woman be better at sports.

I was convinced because of black and white films that the “olden days” had no color in them and it was a 20th century thing. I often wondered who the first person was to make colored clothes.

I thought a mustache was created by growing long nose hairs and carefully combing them outward, away from the nose and above the lips.

I thought there was a black Michael Jackson and a white Michael Jackson.

When I heard people say, “I don’t drink,” I thought they meant they literally didn’t drink anything. When I saw a special on koalas and heard they rarely needed to drink because they ate leaves, I also just figured these people must eat lots of leaves and that’s how they never got thirsty.

I thought that each person only had a certain number of words they got to say in a life time and that if you talked a lot you’d use up all your words and run out.

I thought the “Don’t Drink and Drive” campaign incorporated all drinking, so I would spaz out when my dad drank water during long road trips.

In movies where they show a kid, and then flashed forward to him as an adult, I thought they waited all those years for the kid to grow up to film the rest of the movie.

I thought that prostitute was another word for businesswoman. My parents got called in after career day.

Because I heard, “Elvis is the king” so often I thought he was king of the world. I was just like, “Yeah, sure. Someone has got to be, right?”

I thought ‘potty training’ was an actual train.

I thought that you could only have one child per state. I was born in Illinois, my first sister in Ohio, and my next sister in Michigan. I wanted a brother so I started bugging my parents to move again. I just kept bringing up other states and it took my months to figure out why I wanted to move.

I used to think that a doctor determined whether a baby was a boy or girl by whether or not he cut the umbilical cord all the way off.

That the bank allowed adults access to unlimited amounts of money. So when my mom would say she couldn’t afford something, I’d chime in and tell her to just go to bank.

I thought clowns were a race of people just like any other.

I thought that going to a baby shower meant going to a literal shower and just washing babies. I was always very confused why other women would go to watch a baby take a shower.

I thought God had a wife named Gosh.

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The Holiest Thing About Me Is My Socks

It’s no secret that I’m not actually a fashion diva–or into wearing anything other than my “good” T-shirt or yoga pants when going out in public. 


But there are small little things that exemplify the ridiculousness of this situation. 

Scene 1: I’m walking across the tiled kitchen floor when I feel a cold spot somewhere on the bottom of my sock. I lift up my foot to make sure I didn’t step in something and notice a hole there instead.

Scene 2: I’m two minutes into a walk when my underwear either suction themselves into a killer wedgie or are too big and sag down instead.

Scene 3: I’m halfway to some ridiculous obligation that requires wearing the world’s most uncomfortable bra, which pretty much describes anything that’s not a sports bra.

In all three scenarios, the logical conclusion to each scene would show me removing said article of clothing and promptly throwing it away. After all, they are uncomfortable and/or old and falling apart. I am not a homeless person and I can afford to buy new socks and underwear and throw the old away.

But I also have a short attention span, so something usually distracts me between “remember to take off those socks and throw them away” and actually taking off the socks and throwing them away. My guess is it’s usually something shiny or that makes a cool noise…

Anyway, the bra is another story.

I have around, oh, one “big girl bra” that I can wear without feeling like a corset is wrapped around my chest.* 

*I realize I could go get fitted and get something fancy, but seeing as my concave boobs take up as much real estate as the mosquito bite on my arm, I’m really not willing to pay. Plus, I only have to wear a “real” bra every blue moon. 

With that said, I have a handful of bras and underwear in my drawer that serve no purpose. They are uncomfortable, but yet they’re still there and accidentally worn on occasion simply because I forget and, well, they’re still there.

They’re like those people you can’t stand that you haven’t seen for a while. You think, “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they’re not that annoying and I can talk to them without wishing for a Xanax salt lick.”

But then “bam!” Two minutes in you realize you should have told them you had to go detail the cat litter box, or in the case of the underwear, you wish you had simply just thrown them away.

So let this be a cautionary tale to you.

If you have holes in your socks, if the elastic on a pair of underwear you bought in a Hanes six-pack is gone or the bra that you have is causing you to stab yourself in the leg with a butter knife, just throw them away.

Save yourself.

Learn from my mistakes.

Don’t be a hero.

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