Looking for Lost Socks?

Marky Mark did NOT want me to write my essay. His biceps told me so.

Aaaah, procrastination…you know it means “Googling Ugly Baby Names” in Latin. It’s funny how when there is a certain task at hand how other must dos just pop up.

Allow me to demonstrate.

I have a stack of papers sitting on my desk. I call it the Go Through This Pile of Sh*t so You Can Get to Your Computer To Do pile. Bills, receipts, magazines, kid art, school notices, and summer camp forms make up this pile. One time I found an earring and a gummie vitamin. Here’s what I like to do with that pile: shove it onto the floor. When I am done using my desk, I dutifully pile it back onto my laptop and chair.

Instead of cleaning up my pile-o-crap and writing an article, today I accomplished the below:

– Watched five new movie trailers on IMDB.

– Read Facebook posts and “Liked” most of them.

– Cleaned the patio then lined up the shoes in my closet.

– Played with the Cat Paint! App / looked at Pain and Gain photos (well, that actually was not a waste of time, pretty hilarious and I don’t even like cats).

– Stared.

– Checked email, then re-checked five minutes later to see if I received anything new.

Why don’t I just go through it, get it over with? It makes me wonder, why do we put things off when we eventually have to do them anyway?

I think it has to do with the lack of exchange of goods for services.

I have yet to meet a person who has said, “God I love digging hair out of the tub drain so I don’t have to shower in two feet of water. And I did it all for free!” Or, “I can’t wait to dig into this thesis paper about the multiple personality disorders of the tsi tsi fly! Maybe I will offer to write all of my classmates’ papers – pro bono!”

Newsflash – we don’t get paid for doing the have tos in our lives. We just have to do them. Mortgages need to be paid, dishes need to be washed, and old Goldfish crackers need to be dug out of couch cushions. It’s the American way.

So I have come up with a few ways to aid ourselves into getting it done, now:

1) Pay/Reward yourself. Seriously, promise yourself that after you finish scooping up the dog doo doo in the back yard you can sit back there and crack open a beer. Or after you scrub the ring off the bathtub, you will get your nails done. If you want to leave yourself a couple of bucks on the counter as a tip I’m not telling.

2) Give yourself a deadline. Put it on the calendar. Schedule an activity immediately after the “to do.” Looking forward to an outing might help you plow through the task. Unless the outing is to wait in line get your oil changed.

3) Get your Sirius XM on. Loud music makes everything better, but that’s just me. A little boogie might make lint-rolling the dog hair off your pillows more interesting.

4) If all else fails, ground yourself. You heard me. Tell yourself you simply cannot go to the movies unless you go to the store and buy more dog food. Your canine is done eating your left over sandwiches.

The above may work, or they may not. I haven’t tried them out…yet. But I do know that I like when things are done. I feel better when I can check a task off my list. I can breathe a satisfied sigh knowing that I have a somewhat clean slate to do what I want.

Until my daughter tells me she has to create a Three Little Pigs costume for tomorrow morning. Then I will most likely need to clean all the hairbrushes in the house first.

Am I Really Living in a Recurring Dream? So Why Aren’t My Boobs Bigger?

What I aspire to do.

What is actually happening.

Some of you may have heard the expression, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

Apparently I need a one-way ticket to the funny farm based on the above quote.

Why do we repeat behaviors when they get us nowhere? And have you noticed life is a circle? Not just The Lion King’s circle of life, but also the circle of reappearing situations and people that elbow their way into our lives.

The cycle can be anything from reoccurring negative relationships (Must I always date someone who’s into Yoda?), to needless spending (Well the electric bill won’t get paid this month, so it’s a good thing I have these ninety-two candles on hand), to working the same crappy job, but in a different location (Awesome, more spreadsheets).

In the vein of airing dirty laundry, three major issues seem to follow me around like a fart into an elevator: 1) Running late (everywhere); 2) Overspending; and 3) A promise to take up yoga.

It’s time for me to get off this crazy train, so I devised some solutions.

Let’s start backwards with the most mundane hula-hoop item and its proposed fix.

YOGA: For nearly a decade “Take a Yoga Class” has been on my To Do list. The number of yoga classes I have taken during that time: three. I hate it. I don’t really know why I put this on my list, but everyone keeps telling me it is fantastic for peace of mind and flexibility and blah blah blah. I would not mind limbering up since a seated toe-touch stretch would require a state of emergency; complete with fire trucks and pulley devices. SOLUTION: Where yoga pants. Perhaps while running or just sitting.

OVER-SPENDING: I’m not much of a saver. Or as my husband puts it, “What the @$%* did you buy at Target??!!!” This issue would probably happen more often, but luckily I just don’t have the dinero to spend. At least I make sure all the bills are paid before I go buck wild at Walgreens. I am a responsible over-spender. SOLUTION: A Budget. I have tracked my spending over the last couple of months (ouch!) and am now working on cutting back. I’ll let you know how it goes.

RUNNING LATE: This has gone on since the beginning of time – that is – my time on earth. I like to say sassy things like, “I was born late.” Which is true, but not an accepted excuse for my daughter’s dance teacher. This one is super bad. I find myself thinking I can accomplish more in a certain time frame than is what is actually possible. SOLUTION: Don’t go anywhere (just kidding). I have tried to trick myself and set the clocks in my house five minutes ahead, it does not work. The end result is that I am really good at subtraction. I am still working on this problem area (sort of) and trying to cut back on what I do before I leave the house. Once again, I’ll keep you posted.

My goal is to break the negative circle of sameness. Hopefully I will be successful, and I wish the same for you dear reader, whatever your habit.

But if you see a small woman frantically running down the street holding an un-used yoga mat and a maxed-out credit card – you will know I have a long way to go.

Am I Really Aching for Boston?

Yes. I am.

And so is the rest of the country.

I have nothing cute, quippy, or even creative to say here. In fact, what I am feeling and thinking has already been said by others far more eloquent than I.

Apparently words don’t stop the bad guys.

Like the rest of the world, I don’t have any answers, only more questions. I do not have a magic eraser to make all the hurt and pain go away from those affected by this and many other tragedies; I only have a shoulder to cry on. I am not equipped with radar to detect all the evil in the world, but I do have one thing.

Hope.

While I worry about the world in which my daughter will grow up – I choose to surround myself and her in a world where goodness lives. I will forever believe that while some people are complete a**holes, most give a damn.

I am sick over what happened Monday in Boston. I still can’t comprehend what happened in Newtown, CT. I don’t think I ever will. The news drags me down on a constant basis. I lock my doors. I look over my shoulder. In the dark, I am cautious.

But I still hope.

And sometimes, that is all we can do.

Well, that and start bulking up on creatine shakes to kick some psycho’s ass.

PS – This photo was take almost two years ago in the Back Back of Boston. Still one of the most beautiful places.

Am I Really Pouring Grey Goose and Velveeta onto my Broccoli?

I read a lot of health magazines. Not because I am a health nut, but rather, I find them relaxing: the beautiful photographs of clean and refreshing foods, the yoga poses for back health, the narratives about hiking and camping in Taos, and of course, the body cleanse.

All things I will never do.

Until I started feeling like a broken garbage disposal…with highlighted hair.

So in the effort to spring clean my life, I decided to jump on the granola bandwagon and detox my eating habits.

I read articles about others who braved the cayenne pepper and honey purification, juice fast, or the I only eat mustard sprouts and I feel great! diet. These folks discussed the hardships of saying goodbye to their morning lattes, the good habits they kept, the negative ones they removed, and how they reached a personal epiphany of feeling lighter and being enlightened.

Below is the account of my cleanse:

Sunday: After my third piece of pizza I slither off the couch and look in my refrigerator to prep for my diet detox. I realize I can eat nothing in my house. Apparently I have a lot of no-no foods. I eyeball the cardboard box in the recycle bin.

Monday: Alarm goes off at 5:45 and I get up and work out before work. I drink half a cup of coffee (the research suggests to wean yourself off caffeine), eat my all natural grain toast with almond butter, and a Vitamin C fruit smoothie. Lunch is a salad and dinner is…wait I forget what I ate, but I know vegetables were involved.

Tuesday: I get to work and have some coffee (I’m still weaning) and the same as above breakfast. I skip lunch so I can work out during the lunch break (sort of like fasting) and eat some hummus and veggies later. I read and inspiring article about a woman who went on a detox. She suggested drinking warm lemon water (gag), and eating homemade kale chips (no thanks, they stink like a five year old’s foot).

Wednesday: I go to Starbucks in the morning (Who are you to judge me?). For dinner I take my daughter to IHOP and eat half of her Funny Face chocolate chip pancake. She is not on a cleanse.

Thursday: Zero green foods are consumed. Instead I look at the grass outside. Then I drank some wine (It is best if your digestive tract is relaxed).

Friday: I eat oysters and shrimp with a salad for dinner. Good job. They may have been rolled in cornmeal and fried. Also, I may have drunk two vodka sodas.

Saturday: Let’s just call the weekend a “wash out.”

After my week, I still feel the same, but found some lifestyle changes.

Habits I will keep: Adding more fruit and natural smoothies to my diet.

Habits I will lose: Taking some broad’s advice on oven-roasted tubers.

My personal epiphany: I don’t like cleanses.

Will I attempt this process again? Most likely, because health is important and we should all take care of our own and our loved ones.

Just not if it involved stinky kale chips.

Am I Really Back in the Saddle, But My Chaps are Chaffing Me?

And just like that – I have a job.

This is what I want everyone to do right now: stand up and start clapping.

No, not for me, for all the working moms out there making it happen every day. I seriously don’t know how they do it five days a week, year-round.

This sh*t is tiring.

Oh sure, I went back to work right after my daughter was born, but she wasn’t sleeping through the night at that point and my boobs were like cow utters, so I had no idea what was going on. Then I quit four months later.

Now – I am wide awake and have realized a few things:

1) I have no pants. Who doesn’t have any pants? Me apparently. Well, I have one pair of pants which are slightly large and have a late nineties vibe to them. That goes for most of my dress clothing I try to pull off as “business casual.” I miss my uniform of jeans and a t-shirt.

2) Those who go to a workplace must shower and be presentable every morning. I cried a little when I couldn’t just show up to school in my pajamas and shoo my daughter out of the car. I also have to brush my hair more.

3) Nightly baths for my daughter are a crap shoot. After preparing dinner, making threats to complete homework (“All you have to do is color every other triangle for Chrissake!”), throwing in a load of laundry, and trying to clean up said dinner; child cleanliness goes out the window. Don’t call CPS.

4) Dog? What dog? Sorry chump, your daily walks take a back seat to dinner. Which leads me to…

5) …Dinner – you evil b*tch. It shows up every night, pans naked and waiting. I’ve been making a lot of pasta and pre-made skillet meals. The inmates are planning a coup. I’m not fooling anyone.

6) Remember when I could flex? Work outs have gone from a pleasant hour of body pump to, “If I skip lunch, maybe I can run around the parking lot for twenty minutes.”

I know all you mommies who have been at this game since the beginning are laughing at me. But I am getting the hang of things. I show up to work on time (I know, I can’t believe it either!), I am earning a paycheck, and it feels good to be using parts of my brain that were once solely reserved for: “Did she eat? Did she poop? Are we out of Goldfish? Wait, did you say that she ate?”

While it is a change to my routine, my family’s routine, and can be a bit daunting at times, it feels good to be back in the saddle.

That and I bought two new pairs of pants.

Am I Really Wishing a Brick Will Fall on the Head Of That B*tch’s Success?

It’s Lent, I know. I should not be talking like this. But the Oscars just happened and you can’t tell me all those who did not win are beyond thrilled for their colleagues’ success. Please.

In my own life, it’s like this: you know when you see someone you just can’t stand become successful at …anything? All of sudden people start coming out of the woodwork saying things like, “Congratulations!”, or “I knew you could do it!”, or “You are so great, smart, definitely not annoying, of course you got a promotion/million dollars/Congressional appointment!” It takes all my strength to not vomit all over my broken un-upgraded phone when I read these comments on Facebook.

Conversely, I am actually a very nice person. Ask anyone. However, a few people on this earth really irk the crap out of me – especially those who have wronged me. When said crappy people “make it,” I just can’t bring myself to be the better person and grant well wishes. Bad girl. I know. I’m working on it. I’m not the only one.

Sometimes, people just can’t stand other people. And let’s face it; things are not going to change any time soon. Life is not like that crappy Kristen Bell movie, You Again. You know the scene where arch nemeses Jamie Lee Curtis and Sigourney Weaver start throwing bows in the pool, then make up and become BFFs? Nope, never gonna happen in real life. People like to hate on others success. And apparently Kristen Bell movies (sorry Kristen, I really do like you!).

So why, even when we like the other person, do we become jealous? It certainly doesn’t feel good.

I think it has to do with greed.

We are grubby little creatures, wanting everything; even if we don’t need it.

Nothing illustrates this principal more than a two year old. If you give a two year old a toy dinosaur, she will be pretty happy. She’ll chew on it and smack it up against things. Pure bliss. But if the little tike sees you give her fellow toddler a toy camel? Hang onto your hats people because the sh*t is gonna hit the fan. She will go and try to wrench the poor camel out of the other child’s hand. If girlfriend can’t get it – tantrum city.

Why? She was so happy with the dinosaur.

Greed. I want I want I want.

Our great great great great great grandparents are staring down at us shaking their heads thinking, “Greedy Gerts! You know what my toy was growing up? The giant splinter in my hand. That and small pox.”

I bet they were jealous of somebody. Mostly likely that Dapper Dan who lived in town and did not have to do back breaking manual labor. There is always somebody who has what you wish you had.

But do you really want what so and so has? It might look shiny and nice, but is the awesomeness just an illusion?

Usually this grass is greener effect occurs when we are at our lowest. Maybe we are questioning our own lives or the goals we have been putting off. I wish I had my own frozen yogurt store? Look how successful she is? Really? I don’t think so.

Just like the toddler who never even thought about a toy camel prior to seeing someone else with it, we too are like wee ones wanting what others have. Perhaps we just need to be happy with what we do have, and strive to achieve the actual things we want in this life.

Easier said than done? Not really.

Isn’t it easier to go after one’s dream of writing a novel rather than stewing in front of your computer screen getting acid indigestion about Slutty Stephanie from High School running a successful Organic Baby Food company? Probably.

I’m going to try it. I plan to focus on my personal goals, and not what some other person has – especially one who I don’t even like. What a colossal waste of time.

So when that green-eyed monster starts creeping up again, ride it out and go do something you want to do.

Then just think of all those empty-handed broads from the Best Actress category. Yeah, your life’s not so bad.

Am I Really Wearing Shamrocks and a Sombrero on Valentine’s Day?

Ah Valentine’s Day – the day for lovers. A day for romance. A day for hypo-glycemic attacks due to all the ingested chocolates.

No gracias.

I don’t do romance very well (check out last year’s post about it https://am-i-really.com/2012/02/10/am-i-really-this-romance-challenged/ ). Thoughtfulness, yes. Gooey romance, no. I would actually like to go see the opening of A Good Day to Die Hard on this day rather than get a giant teddy bear. It’s like those smarty candy hearts that say Be Mine or Cutie! They get stuck in my throat like a wad of chalk. I find the whole running around for a gift too stressful. Can’t we just do nice things for each other without putting a big ass red bow on it?

A recently released book entitled The Norman Bar surveyed over a billion people (or something like that) about relationships. The author and her team of experts discovered that men crave romance more than women.

This I believe.

Not because men are more romantic than women, quite the contrary. Women would just like everyday sh*t to happen around the house/in their lives because we are TIRED. Let’s face it, chocolates and flowers are nice, but they won’t make up for the moldy boxes of baseball cards hogging up the garage.

If you want to get busy gentlemen, take a looksey at the below list of traditional Valentine’s gifts versus what a chica really wants:

HUSBAND/BOYFRIEND/MR. RIGHT NOW: Wants to be hugged.

LADY: Wants him to throw away his trash rather than leave it on the couch for her to find in the morning. Then a hug.

H/B/MR. RN: Enjoys spontaneous hand-holding.

LADY: Wants him to “hold” his nail clippings all the way to the trash can.

H/B/MR. RN: Appreciates a kind word and knowing his efforts are appreciated.

LADY: The same. Especially if those words are, “Hey honey, why don’t you go lay down/hang out with your friends/stare at nothing for a while? I’ll take care of the kids/dinner/cleaning up all the dog hair.”

H/B/MR. RN: Excited by sexy underwear.

LADY: Excited his underwear made it into the hamper.

H/B/MR. RN: Wants to make dinner.

LADY: Wants to eat anything she does not have to cook.

Women want the romance just like you dudes. We love love and want to feel loved. We like flowers and kind words just like any other human being. We just want it with a side of everyday actions.

So boys, when you are picking out those chocolate covered strawberries for your lady-friend, take a moment to think. Maybe the best accoutrement to go with the strawberries is mowing the lawn. Romance can take many forms. I know mine looks a little different.

But if my husband ever forgets to get me flowers on V-day I will beat him…with his box of soggy baseball cards.

Am I Really Jell-O Wrestling the Sixth Grade-Fart-Joke-Telling Version of Myself…And Losing?

Sometimes I forget I am a grown-ass lady. I still feel like that goofy chick at St. Mary’s Catholic School with braces, a tragic bob-haircut, and a mad crush on all things Esprit. I still think time is abundant, that I have my whole life ahead of me, all the while daydreaming about walking the red carpet with one of the Ghostbusters.

Then my daughter asks me for a Danimals and I realize, “Oh crap! I am actually responsible for someone else.”

How can this be when I clearly don’t have all my sh*t together? How can I raise a human being to be a contributing member of society when I have yet to “get there?” How can I take care of such a precious little person when sometimes, I just want someone to take care of me?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a worker in this life. I don’t sit back and let life happen; I get out there and get it done. But sometimes, well…I’m still a kid.

This vice-grip on my kid-brain has recently reared up and smacked me in the face – specifically in the area of holding on so tightly (a little too tightly) to childhood ideals.

Case and point: When I was five I used to dream of becoming a famous movie star. I envisioned myself wearing glittering gowns and performing some ass-kicking combat scenes on the silver screen, all the while AC/DC plays in the background. I moved back out to L.A. and then had my eyes opened. I love performing, I love acting, and I love lip gloss. What I realized I don’t love is the time away from my family/glass of wine at night/favorite TV shows/clawing for gigs/having other broads stare me down b/c I might take “their” part. It truly takes some balls to wade through the swamp of Los Angeles entertainment. I decided my balls would be better utilized elsewhere. So I moved to Boston. I performed there, had a great time, met even greater people, and even made a couple of films (clothes on thank you!).

For a loooooong time I struggled with the notion that I had “given up” on my dream. But I hadn’t. I was still acting, still performing, and having a blast. I just wasn’t doing it the way my five year old self imagined.

The same ideal can be applied to relationships. I am sure we all had some notion of what falling in love/meeting our soul mate would look like. I don’t know about you, but I did not even put one iota of thought into envisioning a relationship or the day-to-day of a marriage. My daydreaming about “the one” was solely comprised of handholding and driving in a convertible on the PCH.

I know, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit too. The idea and the reality are two different things altogether.

So how do we reach a handshake agreement between the now adult and the then child? How do we keep the important dreams of our youth and adjust them to fit our current needs/life?

I say we give that damn kid inside us some respect, with a healthy side of reality.

Did you want to train elephants for the circus when you were a kid? Can’t let it go? Well, can you get involved at a program at your local zoo? It might work into your life a bit more than ditching your kids to ride around in a poop-smelling boxcar with Barnum and Bailey.

Was it your vision to head up a Hair Band and party like a Rock Star? You can still do it! Slap on a wig and fishnets and get some dudes together and jam it out. Might be more fun than trying to hunt down all the members of Aerosmith. Plus, they are all sober now and I’m pretty sure Steven Tyler goes to bed at 9:30 pm.

While not always easy, that is precisely what I am trying to do now – reformulate. I am a big-time believer in always having a dream, a goal, to sing so loudly and emphatically in the car other drivers are embarrassed for you, and to laugh until you nearly pee your pants (I may achieve this last one sooner versus later the older I get).

Remember, it is good to check in and be real with your inner dude or dudette. Say, “Hey man, I hear ya. I know it looks a little different, but how about we try this? What do you say?” You might get farther than you imagined and please the both of you.

Then go grab a cookie and a beer and make some farting noises with your armpit. Bam!

**If you have a childhood dream, I would love to hear it! Share below and let’s see if we can get you to it!

Am I Really Thanking the Golden Globes for Shoving My Privacy in My Face?

I am writing this post from a Starbucks. Blissfully, no one here gives a damn.

Thank God because I am constantly picking those everything bagel poppy seeds out of teeth.

Last night was an exciting night in entertainment: The Golden Globe Awards. I have always wanted to go to this event. It looks like so much fun. My favorite part is when the camera people show clips of the stars chatting up each other right before cutting to a commercial break. They look so intent on one another. I often imagine the conversations. Like JLo trying to explain her boy toy to Steven Spielberg, or Bill Murray trying to explain his mental-health patient hair from last night. Really Bill, I love you, but please find a comb.

Yes, like many civilians, I too have wondered what it would be like to get your name called, walk up to the stage, and make your acceptance speech.

Until last night.

Jodie Foster had a lot to say. Websites are blowing up with articles about her speech. Twitter is going banana sandwich with all the tweets and commentary. Whatever your opinion, you gotta put your hands together and give it up for her.

Girlfriend has been in the business since she was three. She is already a two time Golden Globe and Academy Award winner, and last night was honored with the Cecil B. DeMille award. I say, let her say whatever the hell she wants. Why not?

There were many points that the talented Ms. Foster made during her sermon, but the one that slapped me in the face was about privacy.

Most of us non-celebrities types are oozing with it. Or so we think.

In the world of Twitter, YouTube, and cell phone cameras, any jack-ass can be a “star.” Some people post willingly, others, not so much.

Think about how Kim K. got her “big break” – a sex tape. Katherine Webb, the girlfriend of Alabama’s QB, got around eighty bazillion hits after the ESPN cameras panned to her during the BCS championship game. And remember Chocolate Rain? Ooooh I could not get enough of that guy!

There are definitely positives that come from social media. But what about the negatives? A person can record you on their phone and post it, without your permission. Oh sure, you can sue, but only after the fact. Problems can also occur innocently, such as if someone posts a photo of my daughter at a birthday party without my consent. The photo can end up all over the web if not careful.

Take a look at that FBI Agent texting photos of himself shirtless. Dude – you are in the FBI, how could you think you not would be caught? Or the General Patraeus and General Allen scandals? You run our militia guys and have access to all kinds of equipment. Did you not think naughty emails were a bad idea? And of course there is Weiner-gate and the whole sexting scandal. Way to go fellas.

Even if you are not a celebrity, your privacy can still be invaded.

So why are we so interested in other people’s beeswax? We are fascinated with Reality TV (although sometimes, not very real), catching people do embarrassing things online (cheating, singing, picking underwear out of their rears, etc.), and of course, celebrity tabloid news.

You could say it makes us feel better about ourselves when we see someone do something ridiculous. Or, maybe we learn how someone became successful at their job when we watch a documentary.

I think we are just nosy. Period. Myself included.

Why do we slow down when we see an accident on the side of the road? Why do we gossip or want to hear the latest office/mother’s club/celebrity gossip? Why do we sit in outdoor cafes and people watch?

I don’t have all the answers, but it sure is interesting.

But circle back to Jodie-the-lambs-are-screaming-Foster. She is right. If I want you to know something about my life, I’ll tell you when I’m ready. If not, TS.

So thank you Golden Globes for reminding me that nobody gives a rat’s ass if I go to PetSmart in sweaty gym clothes with no makeup, three pimples, and toffee nut coffee breath.

Unless the ding dong store clerk decides to post it on Facebook.

Am I Really A Pancake Without Aunt Jemima?

MMM…pancakes. Now all I want to do is go to IHOP for dinner.

But let me get to the point.

January usually goes one of two ways: 1) You bolt out of the gate on January 1^st toward you new goals like the Barcelona bulls are after you, or; 2) You feel like the life has been sucked out of you, only to be replaced by the color mauve.

I’m feeling more on the numero dos side this January.

Minus a few renegades, who leave their holiday lights up until the Chinese New Year, the neighborhood is pitch black. Dried up Christmas trees await their final fate at the curb, like some type of martyr in a Steven Segal movie (“No, you go on without me. Just leave me here.”). The grass is dead and brown. The snow is dirty. Your skin is so dry, even the Gila monsters are worried. And the holiday bulge? As one good friend of mine put it: “I had an argument with my jeans this morning. Eventually I won. Just barely.”

Ah yes, the January blahs.

Now if you have a birthday in January, sorry for the ho-humness. I am sure your celebration will be phenomenal. But come on, you have to agree with me, this month does kind of blow.

After an exciting December, my lofty goal for the month of January is to see how much sitting I can accomplish. I’m doing alright there. Unfortunately, I have lost a little of the “oomph” to write, go the movies, make a new soup that involves navy beans, or just be motivated in general.

If any of you out there are in the same boat, maybe we can jumpstart this jour de vie with some motivational quotes, ideas, action items, and of course, libations.

Let us call it the Hot and Sour Soup for the Lazy.

1) Instead of a lime in your drink, put an orange. Think of the Vitamin C intake.

Goal Accomplished: Take More Vitamins.

2) Put down the crossword puzzle and watch some trash TV. You don’t need Sudoku when you have the Ex-Wives of Rock on television. You will instantly realize you are a genius.

Goal Accomplished: Have More Brain Power.

3) Put coffee in your cereal. It may sound gross and will most likely taste like crap, but it’ll wake you up and save on dairy calories.

Goals Accomplished: Have More Energy & Cut Down on Fat. It’s a two-fer!

4) Cut your hair. I don’t know why, but every January I go nuts and chop off a massive amount of my hair. At first I love it and feel fresh for the coming year. Then I realize I don’t love it and spend the rest of the year growing it out. It’s a game changer though.

Goal Accomplished: Free Yourself from Clutter.

5) Get your downward dog on. Every year I say I am going to try yoga. And every year I decide a nap would be more exhilarating. But freaky sex-maniac Sting seems to think it is the bomb for your love making.

Goal Accomplished: Be More Flexible.

6) Wear such bright colors that people think you are a clown. Let me state for the record that clowns creep me out. But after a couple of months of dark outer wear, it’s time to jazz it up.

Goal Accomplished: Perk Up Your Wardrobe.

7) Google “Tips to Jumpstart the New Year.” It’s pretty hilarious what you might find. When I was plugging in the above key phrases, “ways to jumpstart your scrapbooking” and “ways to jumpstart your period” came up. Most likely they are related.

Goal Accomplished: Jumpstart the New You.

8) Buy/check out a book your normally would not read. I tend to choose books that involve the hunt for a sociopath on the loose, or a story about Chinese foot binding. Yet, after reading the whole series (yes, the whole series) of Fifty Shades of Grey I quietly embarked on a voyage of: “Hey, what other smut novels are out there?” A lot apparently. Most of them prompting me to eye roll and yell, “Get some self-esteem already! The book says you have big boobs, a killer job, a rockin’ body, and you volunteer at an orphanage. Surely you can work it out with the hot ex-CIA agent who speaks eight languages!” But I still read them. Shhhhhh.

Goal Accomplished: Become More Literate.

9) Start your day off with an affirmation. No joke, I feel like an ass when I say these. They must be working for some people because folks swear by them. Maybe if the affirmation is, “I will remember to not burn the toast.” Or “Grapefruits only sting for a second, then they get better.”

Goal Accomplished: Have a Positive Outlook.

So let’s check in with one another in a February and see where we are. If you have a few suggestions of your own, I would love to hear them.

Just nothing involving costume making for cats. I can’t sew.