Bloggywood...lalalalalala Hollywood. Did ya'll watch the Oscar's last night? May I say that Mr. Dicaprio has turned himself into a right fine looking man? It only took him 30 years to get through puberty, but hey...boy came through and he looks good. Mr. Al Gore, on the other hand, did not. Ah well.
So I've decided that there must be a secret rule in Hollywood that you cannot hold a SAG card (if you don't know what that is, you are not cool enough to read this blog mom - it's the Screen Actors Guild) unless you are also a registered Democrat lefty liberal. I'm sorry, but "Green Oscars"? Who gives a hootenanny? Apparently George Clooney does, so I'd better hush up because he just might read this and become seriously offended. I should note here that I have been considered by some to be a Democrat lefty liberal (who is going to hell for said status), so I don't as a general rule disagree with all things lefty and green. But I'm still confused about the green Oscars. Did they typically burn down sad little trees who couldn't defend themselves to kick off the show? Or perhaps the toilets were previously made of marble (evil pig aristocrats) instead of recycled fibers that give you butt splinters. Who knows? Only Al, and he ain't tellin.
OK so it is muy late and although I am muy tired and have to haul my sorry butt to work tomorrow, my wee little mind has started spinning like a top, and it would take horse tranquilizers to get me down now. My body actually LAUGHS at me now when I take an Ambien. "HA! You dumb weasle! Do you really think those piddly 10 mgs are going to make a dent in this Berlin Wall of resistance we have created?? Hahahaha! Try a Xanax, I bet that'll help. Woohoohhahahahah!" As you can see, my body and I are not on good terms at present.
This is becoming a bad state of affairs, as my body not only has control of my brain, hence sleeping abilities, but it also seems to have taken control of my will power, fat burning skills, appetite (x1000), and turned me into ONE GIANT pile of flabbiness. It has become hard to distinguish where one pile of flab begins and the other ends. For example, the perky little "muffin top" that some women (I won't name them...) complain about, is dainty and sweet compared to what I now have deemed "The rolling lava flow". It cometh up out of the pants, and it falleth over the pants.
Alas. It is time for some serious intervention. I honestly don't know if I would fit into my pregnancy pants, and if that doesn't just scream like a cry for help, I don't know what else would. So, I leave it to YOU, dear reader. Hit me with your best shot. Your most awesomest fail-safe fat obliterating diet/surgical endeavor or cocktail of weekly body cleansers. I want it all.
My own diet efforts so far have included:
#1 Putting on Spanx. I have decided that attempting to put on a pair of spanx is an aerobic workout all unto itself. This sounds like a great perk (exercise points for weight watchers!), but the downside is that if, by some sublime miracle, you actually DO get them on, and manage to get on over them whatever was too tight to put on in the first place, you have now sweated at least 4 cups of liquid, your hair has gone all spastic and curly because of the humidity your huffing and puffing created. And oh yes - look in the mirror. See that face? See the color of it? Like an overripe tomato? That one doesn't go away for HOURS. So really, you might as well have just gone to the gym instead.
#2 Lying on the couch watching American Idol reruns with a giant tube of cookie dough to knaw from at will. While considerably more fun than diet #1, it seems to be having more of an adverse effect on the rolling lava flow: i.e., it makes it flow further and further is bad.
#3 CDP. I would like to introduce you all to the sheer hilarity and idiocy, of the nightly...CRAPO DANCE PARTY!! I am not kidding. Ammon and I decided on one wild afternoon that we really loathe all forms of exercise, but truly enjoy flailing around in our living room to "Dance Like Nobody's Watching" to quote whatever country starlet penned those immortal words. Oh, and we make DARN SURE nobody is watching. Close the blinds, dim the lights, push the coat rack in front of the entry window (and add more coats to fill any holes is necessary).
Oh seriously, we really do look like break time at the mental institution with the patients that haven't mastered limb coordination from being too heavily drugged. But, it's fun! And we do seem to burn some calories, so I think we may continue this tradition of secret nightly humiliation. Cause I am NOT getting on that treadmill anytime soon.
And to close off the day, I've added a few pics for your perusing pleasure.
Bad daddy! He let me conk out in my high chair!
Hahaha - I win! I have the duck AND the washcloth on my head!
Another example of neglectful parenting...she backed herself under the TV stand and couldn't get out. It was pretty funny though.
And the classic finger up the nose.
And my personal favorite - baby's first ponytail!
