Saturday, July 31, 2010

There is an "off" switch in my brain, and I am going to find it.

I went into the kitchen to have a fiber far. Then I went back and had another one. Then I had 2 slices of leftover pizza, and then oreos and milk.

What the f*ck.

...On a scientific note, there IS an on/off switch for hunger in your brain. It's hidden somewhere in one of the lobes, I think. One good zap straight to the right spot, and you may never eat again. Lab rats have starved to death without caring!! If I ever get crazy/drunk/depressed enough, I may try it, but until then...

Last night, after the first pre-dinner binge, I went out to dinner and had half a bison burger with bacon and fried onions (no fries - instead I got a salad that I didn't even eat), 2 huge glasses of pinot grigio, then I went home and had half a Drake's coffee cake, 2 more fiber bars, and melted peanut butter with Turkey Hill party cake ice cream.

And of course, 4 ex-lax.

OMG, ow. My butt hurts.

But I have vicodin, and I know how to use it. I will exercise on the treadmill for at least 700 cals, and then I shall go hiking, because it's actually kind of nice out.

Friday, July 30, 2010

How to make a monster.

I love my mother. I really do. She's pretty much my best friend. We go out drinking, and go to nice dinners, and we watch Law & Order SVU together (and she doesn't even make fun of me when I'm drooling over Stephanie March!), and we can usually--now that I am all grown up--get along pretty well.

But sometimes I really just want to strangle her.

She has a gift, my Mum: she can turn even the simplest of things into an epic argument, and she can do this for absolutely no reason (none that I can find, anyway) other than her own amusement. Last night, for example: I was trying to study for a test in psych class. It's the hardest test we've had so far, and I had trouble keeping up with these few chapters, so when Mum and the sis came into the kitchen and started talking louder than necessary, I picked my book up and carried it into the next room, where it was quieter.

And Mum flipped.

She started ranting her usual: no one loves her, she should just kill herself, she doesn't know why she bothers, etc., etc., etc., and then she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Mum then sent me the following text later on, about a minute before I had to take the actual test: "I don't think I deserved that kind of treatment."

::deep breaths::

So imagine you are three or four years old. Your mother explodes into a rage at least once a day. You do not know why she does this -- it could be because you spilled your glass of milk, or because you came down the stairs a little too loudly when she's suffering from a hangover. It could really be ANYTHING, and there's absolutely nothing you can do do predict these explosions. (Imagine a rat trapped in a cage, getting electrocuted a random number of times per hour).

And these explosions terrify you. You've actually got some pretty strange habits because of them, like hiding in dark closets and concealing yourself under piles of clothes and blankets for hours at a time (I actually still do this when I get stressed out); and learning how to make so little noise and movement, that you can be in the same room as someone else and they will never notice you're there. You will develop phobias to sirens, alarms, and loud noises in general. Your natural instinct when confronted with an argument or debate is to flee, or at least hit the floor and cover your head until it's over.

I went through 3 therapists in my high school years. Every single one of them thought my mother was the root of my psychopathy. Funny enough, Mum fired every single one of them after they tried to bring her in for a "family session," and explain to her that she might want to lighten up. Mum decided in the end that I don't need therapy, just a good kick in the arse.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Claiming your unemployment benefits in New Jersey

Step 1: Bend over.

Step 2: Drop pants.

Seriously, this is the largest onslaught of total bullsh*it with which I have ever had to deal. And whomsoever designed the Unemployment Call Centre should be CLUBBED TO DEATH. Like a seal.

So I filed for my first unemployment check yesterday. I was denied. And the NJ Dept of Labour declined to give me a reason. This leads me to believe that there is no reason. I am perfectly eligible for unemployment because 1.) I worked in NJ full time for well over 18 months, and 2.) I was laid off from my last job.

In order to rectify this, because my bank account currently has like $25 in it, and my savings account is at $0, I tried calling the NJ Dept Labour first thing this morning. I have been calling roughly 3 times a minute since 9.30 am. I get the same message every time: Due to the high volume of calls waiting, we cannot take your call at this time. You can call back again later." And then they actually HANG UP.

You can't even wait on hold listening to horrific lite music while waiting three hours for a real person. Nope. Not in New Jersey.

I've spoken to a few others who have had to deal with this in the good ol' Garden State. They said that, in their opinions, the "Call Centre" does not actually exist, because none of them ever managed to get a live person on the phone. This means I will actually have to drive down to Hackensack and harrass them in person.

For those of you lucky enough that you've never been to Hackensack, let me sum it up this way: EW. It's basically all the filth of Camden, Trenton, and Newark combined; minus the crime rates and plus a lot of overweight, middle-aged, upper-middle class twits who think they're hot shite because they work in the Seat of Bergen County.

This is why people go into their local government buildings with machine guns and blow the feckers up.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I feel like a fatty.

A common feeling, but nonetheless.....

Some a-hole bought Frosted Mini Wheats. They are 190 cals per 3/4 cup serving. They are sitting in the cupboard screaming, "EAT ME YOU FAT B*TCH!!! I AM SUPER MEGA DELICIOUS!!!!"

I can mostly resist. Sort of. I decided a tiny handful after my breakfast (cereal & coffee - 90) was okay. And then I figured another handful after lunch of rolled up cold cuts with mustard (40) wouldn't kill me. And then I had another handful. And another after dinner (veggies w/ teriyaki sauce - 100). I had 2 fiber bars (200) and a bag of mini brownies (100) after class. And then a yoghurt (100). There was an iced coffee in there at some point as well (about 50). And then I had another handful of that diabolical cereal.

It works out to around 700 before adding the cereal, and I burned like 650 cals working out today, but I still feel like I pigged out.

Look at him there, plotting...

Watch it, mini wheats. Tomorrow, you shall be going out onto the lawn for the birds and squirrels. I will annihilate you down to your every last cell!!!!

Goodnight, my loves. Sleep tight! xxoo

I fail to see how a Happy Meal could possibly contain "Hope."

I just saw that on a commercial. Seriously, is this like some kind of new Pandora's Jar? Because that would make more sense. Give your child a happy meal, they open it, and WHAM--out come all the evils of the world, leaving only Hope trapped inside.

Because once you get started on that Happy Meal, there shall be no returning from the Path to Destruction. Believe me, I know. I could eat five Happy Meals in one sitting, so I definitely know.

I know the fast food places like McDonald's and Wendy's now have the "healthy" options on their kids' meals--apple slices instead of fries, juice box instead of soda--but what kind of demented 8-yr-old is going to be like "yeah, Mom, could I get some apples instead of those French fries?" Please.

Monday, July 26, 2010


Just returned from a lovely overnight stay in Philadelphia with one of my gentleman friends. Good times all round. Some trip highlights:

- We drank red wine, took part in some serious debauchery, and watched a movie (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, or something like that - I don't really recommend it).

- He went out at 1.00 AM to buy me low fat Ben & Jerry's ice cream. I ate most of the tub.

- We found a botanical garden in West Philly, and took a lovely walk. Here I am with a giant tree:

Look at those thunderthighs!

- I nearly ran over a pedestrian. (Seriously, 'tis not my fault the traffic lights in Phila are haphazardly placed in such a way that they go unnoticed by Jersey drivers such as myself.)

- To punish myself for the ice cream, today I only had 200 cals. I weighed in at 101 when I got home. One more pound before I hit GW 2! Again!

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Bear with me, my sweets. I just really need to get this out.

Did much better today after last night's disaster. I had breakfast (75), and a workout that burned off about 550 cals. We went out to dinner for a friend's b-day (an all-out drama fest that definitely did not help my indigestion, or mood in general). I had a shrimp and avocado salad for dinner. I'm gonna guestimate 600 cals? Plus like 200 worth of beer, so I went over my usual limit, but not too badly. I'm happy with today.

In general though, I am not happy. My dreams of late have left me terrified of sleeping. It has been the same dream three nights in a row, and one that I have had before.

But let me start at the beginning, long before the dreams.

About 6 or 7 years ago, I was living in Philadelphia, in a pretty nice apartment in Center City with 4 friends. It was an awesome year - non-stop partying (mostly in our place), and I still managed to get straight A's and B's as a film major. And then I met Brad.

I never much believed in love at first sight, but something similar to that happened with Brad. My roomie brought him home after school one day. I was home in the apt watching the extended version of the Fellowship of the Ring. The first time I met Brad, he sat himself down next to me on the couch and declared that his one greatest dream in life was to become as fabulous as Gandalf.

My thoughts: "This guy RULES."

Brad was supposed to go back out with roomie to a party, but he ended up bailing on roomie and staying with me to watch the rest of the movie, and then we watched the Two Towers, Harry Potter #1, and then Monty Python. By the time we got tired around 3 in the morning, we were BFF's. He came over the next day, and the day after, and we had majorly nerdy movie marathons.

Brad made me laugh more than anyone else. I felt a level of comfort with him that I had never felt before - never with a guy friend or girl friend, never even with my own mother. He and I just kind of gradually became more than BFF's, and I must admit [as much as it physically hurts me to say it] I was head over heels in love with him.

I never said it out loud to anyone, but I LOVED him. I was giddy and girly and actually couldn't sleep or eat properly because I was as-gay-as-Christmas, butterflies-in-tummy in love. I even took him out to dinner when Mum came to town, so she could meet him. I have never done that, before or since Brad.

And then, after far too brief a time of gay romantic bliss, Brad had some kind of breakdown. I have no idea of the actual sequence of events, but basically I found out the following information from my roommates:

- Brad had a girlfriend. So I was technically not even his girlfriend, but his mistress.
- 2 of my 4 roommates knew this, and never thought to tell me.
- After some time, Brad's girlfriend found out about me. She then went and slept with one of Brad's friends, and then called him to tell him about it. That's when Brad flipped, I think.
- 24 hours after the initial drama and shock, I get invited by my roomies to a St. Patrick's Day party. I thought that sounded awesome, and bought a bottle of Grey Goose, and then outside the building of the party, I was informed that this was Brad's girlfriend's St. Paddy's party.

My thoughts: "You people have got to be f**king kidding."

But against my better judgment, I went up with everyone else, so as not to seem petty. I consumed 3/4 of the large bottle of Grey Goose, and once I started to get belligerent (because Brad and Girlfriend had vanished to go "talk"), my friend Billie decided I need to leave.

Billie was very sweet about it. He knew the whole story, so he took me across the street for pizza, saved me from getting run over by a bus, and then when we got back to my apartment, he assisted me with hurling all of Brad's belongings down the stairs and into the lobby.

Fast forward like 4 years.
I'd had absolutely no contact with Brad after all of that. As far as I was concerned (screaming and raging and wanting to die on the inside, but completely calm and cold outside) he and I had nothing to talk about. I had no reason to ever see or speak to him again. I wrote him off as a worthless piece of shite, even though I felt like a worthless piece of shite. But these things happen, I figured, and I moved on. Sadness and despair is for babies. For the weak. And I can NEVER be weak.

I had almost forgotten about him when he found me on myspace, and sent me a message saying he felt really bad about everything that had happened, he had been a total idiot, etc. He said that not long after our relationship ended, he had a serious break down and was in the hospital for a time. He begged my forgiveness, and hoped we might patch things up. Not as lovers, but just as friends.

Part of me wanted to just ignore him. It was over. It was done. Why should I cut open all of those wounds again for the sake of patching things up? But another part of me screamed "ANSWER HIM GODDAMMIT!!!"

So I did. We sent short messages back and forth, just small talk and remembering some of the more ridiculous and hilarious moments of that apartment. And then he sent me a poem that was more or less a love poem, ending with a line that basically said he had always loved me, he screwed up, and all he wanted was to have me back the way we were.

That bothered me, and I couldn't quite figure out what I was really feeling. So I ignored him. I stopped messaging him.

A few weeks, maybe months (?) went by, and one day I get a hysterical phone call from one of my old roomies (the one who introduced me to Brad in the first place). Once I got him to calm down enough that he was coherent, he told me the following:
"Brad's dead. His mom found him this morning. He shot himself."

This put me in full-on Zombie Mode for about a week. I went to the funeral - Brad's family and current friends, and all of us from the original Phila crowd were there. It was a devastating thing for all involved.

Fast forward back to now.
I had a few Brad dreams right after it happened, but now they have started up again. They're always the same: I'm either back in Phila in that apartment, or I'm home in my room in the dark; and Brad is there. Our conversation is pretty much the same in every dream:

Me: "Brad?!"

Brad: "Yeah. hey."

Me: "But... But... You're dead?"

Brad: "No."

Me: "...No?"

Brad: "No. It was a mistake."

And I am ecstatic at this news, but then he starts fading away. He might walk away into another room, or just start going transparent like a ghost, and I cling to him and try to follow him, but I lose him every time. Or in some dreams, I wake up just after the conversation thinking (in half-sleep stupor) OMG, he's not dead!! :D ...And then I wake up properly.

Why must we haunt ourselves like this? And I am haunting myself. They are most certainly ghosts--the ones who haunt me--but that are all of my own creation. And now I don't want to sleep, because I really do want to sleep and find him and then never wake up. It hurts me in so many ways that I still feel a certain love for him, and probably always will. I never told anyone how much I loved him because that made me weak. It made me vulnerable. Especially the fact that I don't think I ever once stopped loving him--that makes me SHAMEFULLY weak.

And then there's the living person that I thought--for a while, at least--that I loved as much as Brad. We'll call him PJ. He disappointed me pretty consistently, but I still always went running back to PJ, thinking that perhaps one day he would grow up a bit. I've more or less given up at this point, but part of me thinks I shouldn't give up. I shouldn't let this one get away.

I just don't know.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

I ate too much!! :(

I've been pretty good controlling the munchies in general, but last night was an epic fail. I had done so well all day: cereal (80), coffee (5), turkey slices (50), yogurt (100) for 235 total, and exercise burned like 450. Then for dinner we got Chinese food and I had steamed veggies and treated myself to 2 spring rolls. And then it all went to hell.

I consumed: like a quarter of a package of Oreos with milk, a toaster strudel, many handfuls of Frosties, a giant bowl of Special K with sugar, and God knows how many fiber bars. (And of course, 4 laxatives). It's nights like these that almost make me wish I was a puker, but I can't puke. Lord knows I have tried.

I am a WHALE. But today I will try to be good. So far I've just had cereal (70) and coffee (5), and now I'm going to work out for at least 500 cals.

::deep breaths::

Friday, July 23, 2010


I don't know what it was that motivated me yesterday, but I have decided to set some realistic Life Goals for myself. I need to stop battling for a level of perfection that doesn't exist (if y'all could only see the sudden rise in blood pressure that it took for me to type that...). I will set realistic goals that I CAN achieve!!!

  • I will not beat myself to a metaphorical pulp after the occasional binge. Sh*t happens. Deal. However, I will NOT go back up over 105 lbs. At least not until Christmas, when all bets are off and I get fattened up like a Chrismas goose.
  • I will write AT LEAST one paragraph a day on a book that is already in progress. I will no longer set deadlines for books in progress, but I will strive to finish Book #3 in the pirate series, and the 5 unfinished projects of the Other Side of Real series. (If anyone wants to be a guinea pig, I could totally use one - all those books are adventure/fantasy-ish and intended for 10 yr olds, which means they're way more fun than adult books).
  • I will bloody well learn to speak Japanese. I will use the Rosetta stone program EVERY DAY, and supplement it with the Japanese book, and Sailor Moon.
  • In a similar vein, I will go through my room before the autumnal equinox, and throw stuff away.
  • I will keep an A - B average in my psych classes, and I will not give up on the idea of grad school. I will also not suffer minor coronaries every time I get something lower than 100%. ...And I will not put off assignments until the day before they're due.
  • I shall put my clean laundry away in a timely fashion.

And some Tasks for today:

- Clean the house in preparation of Evil Step-b*itch's arrival. That means putting everything away. And put the new lock on my door.

- Put clean laundry away.

- Write some stuff.

- Try my hardest not to binge, and not get too drunk tonight.

Time to start the clean up. CLEAN LEMONY FRESH VICTORY WILL BE MINE!!!!

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Evil Ugly Step-Sister.

Oh joy of joys, my step-sister Gretchen is coming to stay with us next Monday, and she's bringing her two spoiled brat children along with her. I would rather spend the three days of her visit getting systematically tortured, Medieval-Catholic style, than spend time with Gretchen.

So just to give y'all an idea of how bad she is, here's some highlights from her last few visits down from Boston:

- Within 2 hours of her and her children's arrival, the remote control for our brand new flat screen tv vanished forever. That was 2 years ago. We never found the remote.

- She chain smoked whilst pregnant with the 1st child, right after her father was diagnosed with emphysema. And then when Gretchen's idiot husband caught me smoking a while later, he gives me this long-winded lecture on smoking, and how the hell can I smoke in front of step-dad when he's got emphysema, etc., etc., etc. ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING? I couldn't come right out and tell hubbie that Gretchen was smoking while preggers, as I would have been burned at the stake. So instead I just made a snide comment about "at least I'm not smoking for two."

- last time she came to visit, I got too drunk when we all went out to dinner as a happy family. She asked if I wanted to stay at the bar after our parents left, and I was like "totally!" BIG mistake. At the time, I was unemployed and completely broke. She's an editor at Marie Claire. And yet when it came time to pay the tab, and later to pay the taxi, she was like "oh sorry, I don't have any money on me; can you pay?"


Omg I really hate her... :**(

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

You can have all the ice cream soda you want.

Through my constant browsing in super markets (at least 3 times a week), I have found yet another delicious and guilt-free snack! I've actually gotten mixed reviews from tasters--some loved it, some thought it was nasty--but I think it's DELISH.

I had never heard of this soda or brand before, but on the can it says it's manufactured by Dr. Pepper. I found it in King's. This soda (1) has ZERO calories and (2) actually tastes like an ice cream soda. I save them for when I'm craving a sweet snack (the craving hits me at like mid-day, since I've been home unemployed). Awesome.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Drink up me hearties, YO HO!

Monday has rolled around once again, and I am setting the clock back to zero. This means:
- No more than 400 cals a day for 4 days.
- No stepping on the scale until Saturday morning.
- AT LEAST 40 mins on the treadmill every day this week.

Hopefully that means by Saturday I shall be back to an acceptable weight.

The lovely and beautiful Mona nominated me for an award! [::hugs::] Woohoo! I never win things!! :D

So here's 5 likes:

- Dawn: Specifically, sitting outside at dawn with my tea and listening to the world coming to life. No cars or people noises, just the birds.

- Classical Music: Although I love pretty much all music except rap, there's something about a full orchestra with strings and brass; and blasting Verdi and Beethoven at unholy volumes on the surround sound system that just makes me feel ALIVE.

- The Ocean: I could sit and stare at it forever. The sea is in my blood. One day, when all my years are spent, I shall dive into it and keep swimming into the horizon, and just dissolve into seawater.

- John William Waterhouse:

- My Kitty: She always listens, and always knows how to put me in my place by reminding me that I'm simply her slave.

And 5 Things Which Are Not Liked:

- Earthworms: Massive phobia.

- Kevin Bacon: He's evil.

- Cheese: It's just friggin nasty.

- Airplanes: Fear of heights + control issues + dislike of of confined spaces = I need to be HEAVILY sedated before I fly anywhere.

- Being touched/hugged/etc. by people I don't know that well: Seriously. There's no need for hugging. I just met you. I don't hug my family, never mind someone I've known for 5 minutes. :)

And 5 nominations:

Brittanierawr, for making me smile with her sharp wit - even though we've never met in person, I would have no problem giving you a hug!
Marbleyes, who is beautiful in all ways, even if she doesn't know it.
Arexisaurus, one of the funniest people I've ever virtually met.
Miss B, who says it like it is.
And Gypsy, utterly fabulous, who writes straight from the soul.

xXx <3

Sunday, July 18, 2010

I'm pretty sure Satan invented cereal.

I thought I'd buy myself a different cereal yesterday when I did the grocery shopping, as I am sick to death of Corn Flakes. Bad idea. After reading the calorie count of every single cereal in the shop, I settled on an old favorite--Eggo Waffle and Maple Syrup cereal--because I get the most bang for my buck at 110 calories per 1 cup serving.

But apparently my willpower is just not up to the level of Eggo waffle cereal. Over the course of the last 24 hours, I have consumed the entire box. With milk.


And to top off the weekend, Mum and her friend made comments about my weight when we were out to dinner last night. They said it's nice that I'm not quite so emaciated as I was a couple of weeks ago.

I am a HUGE fat ass.

Friday, July 16, 2010


So even with sleeping pills, last night I could not get to sleep. I eventually drifted off sometime after 4.15 am (that's the last time I remember checking the clock) and had awful dreams until I woke up at 8.00. I had a binge-dream, where I consumed a giant tub of coffee ice cream and a tub of peanut butter, along with a bag of chocolate chip cookies and then I half-woke up in a blind panic. Idk how I managed to fall back to sleep, but I did...

Then I had this really long and involved dream that took all the issues I have with various family members (parents, sisters & brothers, step-parents, cousins, aunts, etc.) and combined them into one giant chunk of Hell. I won't get into details because explaining my family requires charts and diagrams and long explanations (and there's nothing more tedious than hearing a recollection of someone else's dreams), but it was pretty bad. There was binge-drinking on the part of Mum and an aunt, bed-wetting by cousins, dogs with tapeworms, houses reeking of piss and vomit and excrement and me being trapped in those houses, and lost of yelling and screaming until I was eventually rescued by one of my cousins, but even that turned sour in the end.

It was one of those dreams that leaves you in a serious funk when you wake up. Even now, I've been up and about for over 90 minutes, I still can't shake it. This is going to be One Of Those Days.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

For a second, I thought I was actually seeing and hearing things.

My DVD box set of every Sailor Moon episode ever came in the mail today, and I just watched episode four. The episode begins with Usagi (Sailor Moon) weighing herself and then breaking down into tears, and declaring she is fat and needs to go on a diet. The rest of the episode follows her starving and doing ridiculous workouts at a gym that promises you will lose 5 kilos in 3 days.

I'm not even kidding. This progresses the end of the episode, where Sailor Moon makes the following quote while fighting the bad guys:

Here's the episode: (or you can watch it here)

I cannot imagine how this ever got aired in the States. At least not with that dialogue. I must watch the English version and see if they changed anything...

Insignificant Others

I can't help but eavesdrop when Mum is on the phone with relatives. Mainly this is because Mum is an incredibly loud individual, but I'm also kind of nosy.

Today, Mum was on the phone gossiping with her sister, and they started talking about Yours Truly. At this point I got a better hiding place, and settled down to listen to the entire conversation. (Mum is also deaf when it comes to technology, and so turns the volume all the way up on the phone so I can hear everything the other person is saying.) Their conversation went through my recent job loss, my going back to school, and then--shockingly--to my lack of a boyfriend. They talked about that last one for some time, and about how I "never seem to have a boyfriend, or even go on dates," and how this is "abnormal," and Auntie suggested that perhaps Bellatrix is a lesbian.

One would think that after 25 years of living under the same roof, Mummie Dearest would have figured out a few things about her middle child. I am simply not the boyfriend-having type. A lone wolf. This bird definitely flies solo. Don't get me wrong - I love men, but not for long-term use. Why?

- A steady boyfriend requires a steady attention span, which I do not possess.

- In a similar vein, I get bored very, VERY easily.

- I am perhaps the pickiest woman on the planet when it comes to a man's appearance.

- I don't like people tagging along when I engage in leisurely activities.

- I am a hedonist. That means I will probably have trouble remaining faithful to one person.

- At some point, every man I date is going to try and tell me what to do (i.e., stay at home rather than going to the pub, eat more than 500 cals a day, go visit his parents, blah blah blah). There is no faster way to rejection than telling me what to do.

- I really just don't like the idea of sharing my life with someone. It's MINE. Back the f**k off. Sex is fine for sharing. Relationships are not so fine.

So what I'm trying to say to you, Mum, is that there will not be a wedding any time soon. :)

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


I really don't have a problem with the giant mutant cricket population in my basement. I mean, they're only crickets. Granted they're like 100 times larger than the average cricket and can jump ten feet in the air, but they're harmless really.
I think they might be called camel crickets.

However, I DO have a problem with the giant mutant centipedes.

Generally, I kind of like bugs. With the exception of earthworms (I have a truly epic phobia of them, to the point where I will actually vomit if there's too many of them on the ground), I think bugs are kind of cool. Like the praying mantis (mantises?). Friggin awesome.

But the house centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata)? No.

I was cleaning out the kitties' litterbox in the basement this evening, and one of these bastards assaulted me from behind:

My reaction was predictably girly: "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"

But there is an effective way of dealing with these things. As a rule, I won't kill bugs, but the house centipede is not a bug. It's Creature of Darkness that must be destroyed. And it can be destroyed by the following method:
  1. Keep house centipede in sight at all times. If this makes step 2 impossible, you'll have to skip ahead to step 3.
  2. Have a can of hairspray ready, just to stun it a bit in case it makes an attempt to flee.
  3. Get a weapon - a good, heavy object like a book, or a large boot. Whatever is closest and will cause maximum bodily harm.
  4. Take aim and throw weapon. Do not miss.
  5. Run.
  6. Wait at least 10 seconds, then go and assess the damage. If the Creature still lives, repeat step 4.
  7. Do not bother to dispose of the remains. House centipedes are Evil, and so their bodies completely dissolve after being squashed, presumably returning to the darkest regions of Hell.
  8. Douse the room with Raid just in case there's more. Sleep with the hairspray on your nightstand.


It's amazing how fast I revert back to my natural state when I don't have a job to go to. And it only took 2 days! (I don't count the weekend, as I didn't work weekends.)

I have the spend the past 2 days sitting around the house in sweatpants, chain smoking, and being sprawled on the floor in front of the TV (couch makes my back hurt) switching back and forth between Bonanza
marathons and Star Wars . I have not only left the house in pajamas; I have gone into the supermarket, CVS, and 7-Eleven wearing said pajamas and hiking boots (had no shoes on [no shoes, no service] - I keep the hiking boots in the car). I do not wear knickers under my pajamas. And I made a point to go into King's when I needed groceries. It's where all the spoiled rich uptight housewives go grocery shopping, and I know for a fact that they are incredibly disturbed by my unkempt appearance (add giant mess of bleached blonde unwashed-for-7-days hair and no makeup to my outfit of pj's and boots). And then I blast Willie Nelson on my way out of the parking lot to complete the whole image.

Unemployment is pretty good so far. But then again, life in general is pretty ok when you're a total redneck and proud of it.

It's in my blood. I have tried to fight it in the past - tried to be like everyone else here in good ol' North Jersey and care about fashion and designers, scoff at poor people and cheap cars, eat at only the best restaurants, act like one of the cool kids.

...No thanks. I'm quite happy being a hick. Gimme a double-wide, a rifle, some country music, a pit bull, and a case of beer, and I'd be happy as a clam.

On the downside, this whole not working thing and being home all day makes it harder to watch my calories. Sure I can exercise a bit more than usual, but I'm trapped in the house with the cupboards full of food ALL DAY. If it wasn't such an unholy temperature outside, I'd actually go out and do things, like maybe go hiking or something; but I can't take this heat. It makes me just want to sit and puddle.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Some food for thought.

I have not eaten fast food in a long time. I think the last fast food I had was a small chocolate milkshake from McDonald's, like 2 or 3 months ago. It was more of a struggle in the beginning, but now I don't even want it anymore. I admit, I sort of miss Wendy's chicken nuggets. And the sausage McGrundle from McDonald's is heavenly, but honestly all that crap is bad for you, even if you're not a restricter or a purger.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Some Helpful Tips For a Good Night's Sleep...

...OR The General Public's Complete Ignorance of Chronic Insomnia.

I know everyone is simply trying to help, but one would think that people who know me would actually stop and consider Insomnia as a disorder before telling me all the different things I could do to get to sleep. Just do the things they do - I'll be asleep in no time!

You people are retarded.

[Sorry, but lack of sleep tends to sap me of about 95-99% of my patience and sympathy, and I never had that much to begin with.]

So here's some Helpful Hints* I've been given with regard to the chronic insomnia from which I have suffered since 1997:

1.) Don't watch TV right before bed. (Or some have said, while in bed.) Instead, watch it in the living room and then go to bed.
  • Why doesn't this work? BECAUSE I STILL CAN'T GET TO SLEEP. TV or no TV, this brain ain't shuttin' down. TV makes those long hours until dawn move just a little bit faster.
2.) Try and be more active during the day. And try to exercise in the middle of the day, not in the morning or at night.
  • This would be fine and dandy if I was some rich b*tch who didn't have to work, and could just run around doing active things all day, and exercise in the afternoon to my heart's content, but most of us have to go to WORK. Of course right now, I can exercise in the afternoon because I just lost my job. I have however, been without employment before, and would usually be doing some form of physical activity most of the day until I wound down just before dinnertime. It doesn't work with the whole sleep thing. Not at all.
3.) One of my favorites: Just empty your mind of all thoughts and emotions, and you'll drift right of to sleep.
  • This suggestion makes me want to punch things. My active mind is no doubt the root of my insomnia. If you are capable of just "emptying your mind," then you are entirely incapable of comprehending the noise level inside of mine.
4.) Don't eat for at least an hour before going to sleep.
  • Do I f*@%ing look like I eat?
5.) My mother's favorite: Just go a few nights without sleep. Eventually you'll crash, and then you'll just get back into a normal sleep pattern.
  • No. Today is Day 4 of No Sleeping Pills, and I think she's starting to get scared of me. - Case and point.
6.) Who don't you try going to a sleep study, or something similar?
  • Because I have suffered from insomnia since age 12. It is therefore a preexisting condition, and so NOT COVERED BY MY BOLLOCKY HEALTH INSURANCE. And I'm 25 - Do you really think I can afford a sleep specialist???
7.) Why don't you try yoga/pilates/meditation?
  • Shut up.
8.) You just need to take a few days for yourself/go on vacation/relax.
  • I've taken about 20 family-related holidays and maybe 4 or 5 personal holidays since the insomnia started. One would think I'd be able to sleep by now.
I can't wait to see how I'm behaving by Day 7. Keep an eye for me on the news!!

Just die already.

What a weekend. This is going to get very long, but I do not apologize.

Let's start with Friday.

At around 5.00, the Boss calls me into his office. I presume it has to do with the fact that we're not making any money, because he's picky about taking on new clients, and the clients we already had were deadbeats who vanished without ever paying. We had discussed this last week and the week before, basically the Boss saying that if things didn't pick up he would have to let me go because he couldn't afford a secretary.

So on Friday, I was fired. I guess technically it's "laid off," but yeah, I no longer have a job.

Mum decides to take me out to dinner to make me feel better, and so then while we're out she gets shitfaced and decides to really get on my case about my weight. I might be able to handle that if it was anyone else, but when Mum decides to nag you about something, prepare to die. She will (literally) nag you to the point of self harm or suicide. So of course she's been on my case ever since, every waking moment of every day that I spend with her, she goes on NON-BLOODY-STOP about my weight, my eating habits, how I'm going to die, etc, etc, etc. This is why she has gone through 2 fiances, 1 long-term boyfriend/father of her 2nd child, and 2 husbands.

So I tried to eat a bit more normally in front of her. But I can't do that. It's all or nothing - starve or eat like a pig. So I binged.

Also this weekend, I figured that since I no longer have to get up early every morning, perhaps I should try to kick the sleeping pills and get into a normal, natural sleeping pattern. I warned all the members of the household several times (Mum, Sis, step-dad) that over the next few days/weeks/months/possibly forever I will become increasingly irritable, neurotic, delusional, catatonic, and God knows what else as a result of not sleeping. Y'all just have to deal.

Yeah so right now I have slept about 8 or maybe 9 hours in 4 days.

::manic smile::

Before I lost my job, my stepfather got up every morning around 8.30 to take my 15-yr-old Sis to her summer volunteer job. Stepdad has no job (he's been blacklisted from the entire printing industry - don't ask). I would of course have no problem taking Sis to work now that I am also jobless, but as everyone in the whole bloody house knows, I'm trying to learn how to sleep normally. So what does stepdad do? Instead of perhaps making this known LAST NIGHT, he waits until 8.26 this morning to tell everyone he's not taking Sis to work because I'm home, so I should do it.

I got to sleep around 7.30 this morning. And then was woken up at 8.27 and given exactly 3 minutes to process what Mum told me, get out of bed, find the car keys, and drive my sister to work. SAFETY FIRST!

I never liked stepdad. When Mum started dating him 11 years ago, I and EVERYBODY SHE KNEW said what a bad idea it was, and that he was a bad person, and that it would never end well. But of course, Mum did not listen because she never listens to anyone. [Seriously, you could tell her that if you put your hand in a fire you'll probably get burned and she won't believe you until she tries it herself.] So she ended up marrying stepdad. And now he makes her life a living hell.

I did try to feel bad for him. He's got 3 deadbeat children who would serve a better purpose being burned alive and then used as fertilizer, and he's also got emphysema from smoking 3-4 packs of ciggies a day since he was 12. But he brought those things upon himself. And he's a lying, miserable bastard. He gives Mum a hard time for not being a good little housewife who dotes on her husband and brings him slippers and newspapers in the evenings. IS HE FRIGGIN KIDDING?!? Doesn't he realize who he's talking about?? That woman has never doted on anything in her life. I can forgive ignornace, but I cannot forgive blatant stupidity.

Ok I'm done rambling.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Some things I would like to do before I eventually overdose on something, or end up in permanent lockdown in a maximum security penitentiary.

A lovely young lady on PT started this post, and she got me thinking about it for real. So I thought I'd elaborate here, where I have less chance of bothering/offending/annoying/etc everyone. [Her blog is here.]

I'm going to try and keep this list as realistic and practical as possible. Unfortunately, I am neither of those things very often, so I may stretch the rules of reality a bit.

THINGS WHICH I MUST DO BEFORE DEATH (in no particular order):

1.) Swim with whales. And not small wimpy whales - like BIG whales. Humpbacks and junk.

2.) End up with my photo in a magazine after getting involved in something scandalous.

3.) Produce, write, and co-direct the Goriest Most Violent Horror Film of All Time. (It will have no plot, just two hours of mindless, disgusting ultraviolence that would make Satan hisself vomit and cry out in disgust).

4.) Live to see the aforesaid horror film banned in every major country worldwide.

5.) Own a genuine replica of one of Marie Antoinette's gowns.

6.) Visit the following locations: Costa Rica, Brazil, Japan, New Zealand, and the Czech Republic. (there's loads of other places I'd like to see, but these are the top 5).

7.) Get at least one of my children's books published, and finish writing at least one of the adult fic books.

8.) Own a sail boat, and use it. Perhaps even live on it.

9.) Have two children--preferably boys--and raise them properly: good manners and etiquette, appreciation for music and the arts. They will receive a Classical education, and also be forced encouraged to play the violin and piano. I couldn't give a shite about finding a husband; the kids are more important.

10.) Rob a bank. I'm not even kidding. And I want to do it in the fashion of the Wild West. The way I see it, I've got the following 3 options:
- Wait until I really go over the cuckoos nest and then just do it--rob a bank! No plan, no holds barred, and no fighting when the police eventually arrest me. This will no doubt end with my immediate placement in the asylum, for life.
- Wait until I lose it in a more violent, but more controlled way--when I becomes a serial killer. When the authorities start closing in after I've done a few murders, I figure I'll go out with a bang and rob as many banks as I can before I get caught. Then it's off to prison for life. And I shall be famous. There's not many lady serial killers out there who are also sociopaths and bank robbers.
- Wait until I'm really really old and decrepit. When I feel I have reached my last few weeks/days, I shall do a bunch of heroin, and go rob a bank.

Thin enough will never be thin enough.

The Mother has started voicing her concerns in earnest now. I don't know when she suddenly looked at me and saw "too thin" instead of just "skinny," but now she claims that she's worried.

It does not help when other people point out my weight in front of her. Like yesterday, when her cleaning lady (Betty, who is lovely and is teaching me to speak Portuguese so I can go stay in her house in Rio) arrived. Betty looks at me and says, "you're getting too skinny!" I don't really think she's one to talk, as she is an effing TWIG, but mum of course jumped on this comment. "YES, you are getting too skinny," she said in that Mother-tone, staring daggers at me from across the kitchen table.

I don't understand this. I mean I kind of do, but at the same time, no. When there's a heroin-chic model in a magazine, or stick-insect actress on TV, Mum is usually the first one to say that they look fantastic, and how she wishes to God she was that thin. I don't think I'm quite that twiggy-thin (I can't process my reflection properly, so I really have no idea what other people see), but WHY IS IT OK FOR THEM TO BE WASTED, AND NOT ME?!?! I know, I know - she's just worried about me because I'm her daughter and she loves me (insert gag here) and blah blah blah.

The idea of maintaining this weight makes me scared, but if Mum continues in this fashion, I might have to try and stay around 100 until autumn. At least when the weather turns colder ,I can cover up the twigginess with extra layers of clothes. But I don't want to stop now!! :**( I've come so far. I CAN'T STOP. I want to be down to 90 by September.

So far today I ate the exact same thing I eat every bloody morning, so I'm not repeating myself.
..... (80).

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Yes, I know I'm nuts. And yes, I'm ok with that.

I have a problem. I really want Baby Lofty!! Here she is, lookin' all cute and fabulous:

This wouldn't be a big deal in general, as most of the regular old G1 My Little Ponies (generation 1 = pre-1990) are available on eBay or similar sites for reasonable prices. Lofty, however, is a bit more complicated. In the early 80's, they made the first Lofty - an adult in the So-Soft set of ponies:

Yeah, she's nice and all, but I'm not really into the So-Soft ponies. And the Baby Lofty they released a few years later has Beddy-Bye-Eyes. These things freak me the f**k out. This is what Baby Lofty looks like with the funny eyes:

So then yesterday whilst trawling the forums of the MLP Arena (a site for wackos like myself) I found out that an alternate version of Baby Lofty was released in Brazil--one without the beddy-bye eyes.

So my first thought was YEEESSSS! A NORMAL ONE EXISTS!!! Isn't she adorable?!?!? There's just a couple drawbacks: she is EXTREMELY rare, and costs around $250 if you manage to find her.

I don't have $250.00 in ready cash to pay for a My Little Pony. But I do have credit cards, and a small spending problem. If I find her, she will officially be my most valuable MLP. I do have a few that are worth quite a bit, but not even close to $250.

Y'all probably think I'm a lunatic, but seriously, I don't think MLP collecting is any stranger than say Hummel collecting, or those people who collect tiny spoons from all over the world. Plus it makes for an amazing distraction during bouts of extreme hunger--I just shut myself in my room and take out all my ponies, clean them, brush their hair, line them up all over the floor, and then organize them and put them away again. That's at least 2 hours killed, not thinking about food.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

You can say it all you want - I still don't believe you.

There are some rare days when I can look at myself or feel myself up and think I'm skinny. But those are RARE. Most days, I feel fat. I look in the mirror and I see fat. I believe know I'm fat. I could weigh 50 pounds and look worse than a holocaust survivor, but when I look in the mirror, I will still see this:
I cannot explain it. I cannot answer "How can you not see yourself?!" and similar questions. THAT right there is how I see myself. You can tell me I'm thin/emaciated/going to die. It really doesn't make a difference. I'm still fat.

And getting fatter by the second, I think. I started school yesterday. 3 days a week, from 6-9. That means I can't work out on Tues./Weds./Thurs. I did good yesterday - only had 250 cals. Hopefully can keep it up on the non-workout days...

So far today, I ate: cereal (75), coffee (5).

Monday, July 5, 2010

Conversations with my mother.

I officially no longer have to wear a bra. (Go me!) I guess maybe this makes the weight loss more noticeable, because Mum started getting on my case this morning about my thinness.

Mum: ::looks me up and down:: "You're losing too much weight."

Me: "I am not. I'm just skinnier than I was."

Mum: ::frowns:: "You're emaciated. You want to end up like you're aunt Donna?"

Me: [YES, with every fiber of my being] "Of course not."

Mum: ::grunts and gives me the 'I KNOW' eye::

So far today, I ate: cereal (70). Work out = -400. Saving the rest of the day for the bloody barbecue, and wine.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Goal Weight 2 Accomplished!!!

As of this morning, I am now down to 100 lbs. One more pound, and I'll finally be out of triple digits!!! :D

Saturday, July 3, 2010


I thought I'd share some photos as proof of my hoarding. Mum commented this morning that she thinks I may have a "problem."

I suppose it's true. I hate throwing things away. I mean I don't keep garbage or stacks of newspapers or anything gross, but I do probably hang on to a lot of things that are unnecessary.

So here's my room:

My closet:

My desk, which is cluttered past the point of usefulness:

And apparently, I have too many books:

And this is my room AFTER it was tidied.

Great day today - weighed in at 101 this morning, so only one more pound to go before I hit goal weight 2!!

So far today, I ate: cereal (80), coffee (10), 1/2 flat bread (50), 1/2 ice cream sandwich (80), and I did a mega work out this morning (-700). Hopefully I can stick to my plan of eating a 150 cal dinner, and consuming a bottle of champagne with my lovely friend, #2. That will leave me at a total of between 20 and 120 for the day.

Exploding Head Syndrome

So apparently, I am not alone. The mini-traumas I often experience whilst trying to go to sleep are an actual disorder: exploding head syndrome. Not even kidding; this is an actual medical condition.

This happens to me all the time. On the rare occasions I manage to drift off to sleep without tossing and turning for hours, heart palpitations, night terrors, or dreaming while awake; I get these weird explosions. I swear, it sounds like bombs exploding, or thunder, or the whole house collapsing around my ears. And I'm ALWAYS seeing bright flashes of light and thinking it's coming from the sky outside my window. My first thought is usually OMG, ALIENS!!! (I have a preoccupation with aliens, if y'all haven't figured that out - an ongoing paranoia).

But no, there's no bombs and no aliens. I'm just a little more sleep disordered than I thought.

Thursday, July 1, 2010


As I think I might have mentioned in a previous entry, my dear auntie is staying with us for a few weeks, from England. I'm home alone with her tonight, as the stepfather has fecked off for a long weekend in the remotest regions of Pennsylvania, the sister is away in Costa Rica, and mum is out to dindin with friends. Since it's just the 2 of us, I offered to bring auntie the dinner of her choice on my way home from the salon.

Auntie wanted Kentucky Fried Chicken. No biggie. I wouldn't eat that anyway, even without an eating disorder as it always used to make me a bit ill. But Auntie, I think, is suspicious of my eating habits. As soon as she sat down to dinner, she asks, "Aren't you having any?"

Now I planned on not eating dinner because I didn't work out today, so I could safely stay at 350 cals for the day. But I feel guilty not eating in front of my auntie. I don't know why - I can use the "not hungry" and "not feeling great" lines with mum and she never bats an eyelash, but it feels wrong to say that to auntie. WTF?!? So I had to sit there and nibble teensy pieces of biscuit and bits of ::gag:: original recipe chicken. I had maybe 50 cals worth of KFC, maximum, but now I feel like a bloated hippopotamus.


That anime post on PT made me nostalgic for Sailor Moon, which I used to watch religiously from age 13-17. and now I'm watching it again. They have all the episodes online here - I love the internet!!!

I successfully ate out last night (although I did have a glass and a half of wine and started rambling about nonsense in front of my mother). Had maybe 550-600 cals for the day including the wine, and weighed in at 103 this morning!

Must not go too much over 300 today, as I'm getting my head bleached and won't be able to exercise. Thank God for those 100-cal flatbread things. So far I've had cereal (75) and coffee (5).