I'm Just a Good Little Catholic Butterball Learning to Fly to Kenya

This pretty much sums it up for me:
"So here’s something I’ve realized since I’ve begun writing this cute little [blog]: it’s hard to keep up. I mean, don’t get me wrong… I’m the funniest person I know and everything I think up is pure genius gold. However, I guess I just never gave all the people who do this so mercilessly as a job enough credit. I love to write. I love to say all the random crap that comes into my head. But sometimes? Thoughts just don’t equal big old diatribes or essays. You can force it, sure. But then it sounds dumb and it’s not…um, interesting. As I’m sure this post isn’t for the most part. But that’s the fun of a blog! It’s fulfilling for ME all the time and for you only some of the time! I WIN!"

That would be the uber hilarious Drew over at rocketshoes, and he puts it very well. This is hard and I have no idea what I'm doing half the time most of the time. Either my brain's funny center shut off for the last few weeks or my life is just lacking in absurdity lately. Here's what you've missed out the past 13 days:

-- I gained approximately 1,000 pounds. No, really. I am the biggest I have ever been in my life. My mother's brain could not process the number of pounds I now weigh, saying it could not be possible. And there is nothing worse (okay yeah cancer and stuff) than waking up overweight. You can't undo it quick enough! You can go from pale to tan in an instant, you can get snazzy french tips on your nails in like an hour, you can make wrinkles disappear in a day, turn platinum blonde, slap on lipstick, cut some bangs, whatever -- but no, Fatty, you have to continuously make terrible healthy choices over and over as you plod down the path to slimness. Ugggghhhhh I haaaaaaaate it. Last night Boyfriend had me up against a wall -- wait for it, really not sexy in any way -- because we were trying to zip up my holiday party dress... We did it, but I had to be bra-less and even then I couldn't breathe terribly well. I enjoy breathing, so now I'm debating this dress. And the party is FOUR days away. So, of course, I initiated Project Slimdown. Which lasted 3 minutes until I realized that I couldn't not eat the leftover pizza from Sunday because that would be wasteful and I needed a glass (and by glass, I mean bottle) of wine to calm myself down. Genius.

Let me also note here that I have a special glass for my wine -- not quite as in your face as Big Joe or Carl, though. It's actually a lowball style glass that I happily fill up, thinking "Hey it's a lowball glass, how much can it really be?" Turns out: A SHITLOAD. Randomly deciding to answer this question the other day, I poured myself my normal lowball pour, then dumped that into a pint glass. WHICH IT FILLED. I have been drinking pints of wine.

RIP Big Joe. Welcome, Carl.

 
--That factlet probably surprises no one. Especially not poor Boyfriend, who has to repeat himself 19 times about everything because whatever he tells me when I drink does not get logged into any sort of brain file in my head. It is now the rule that when I ask a question, it is pointless for him to answer, "I told you already" or "We talked about this last night" or "That chip of paint missing from the wall is from the cup you threw at my head" (it was plastic, settle down.) I also get the pleasure of waking up and asking him, "Was I a total jackass last night?" whenever we drink with actual other people. Which brings me to Thanksgiving, where I apparently chose to wander off through my building at some point in the night and take a siesta on part of the roof. I returned to the holiday gathering (with Boyfriend, Boyfriend's Twin, and Boyfriend's Younger Brother) with wet clothes and the exact same amount of wine in my glass that I left with. I then rambled about how I couldn't believe no one came looking for me and that I was just looking at the stars. And then proceeded to have Dance Party 2010 pretty much by myself in the living room for a number of hours. Good times. 

--Also interesting are the purchases that I am making while drinking. This week iTunes sent me my receipt for the entire Greatest Hits of the Beach Boys Collection (what?! why?! it's november and freezing! there is nothing to trigger happy sunny beachy thoughts! what possessed me to buy that?), an audiobook called The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership (what?! I don't want to lead anything! I want to lounge around! what is going on?!), the song Whiter Shade of Pale (??), and GET THIS, a not-free app called Holy Rosary Audio. Yes, this deluxe version of this app, mind you, prays the rosary for with you, in its entirety, in either a male or female voice, with the text on the screen in front of butterflies. Really, Inebriated Me?

--Additionally, I adopted an elephant in Kenya for a year, her name is Wasin and she was orphaned because she got trapped in mud. (Why her mom couldn't pull her out with her elephantine strength I do not know.) And while we're riding on this apparent underlying Love for Kenya I Am Harboring train, I also decided to give a micro-loan to a farmer in Kenya who wants to purchase a dairy cow. Good luck Robert Otunda!! Randomly bought my mom a digital camera after having done exactly zero minutes of research on the subject. Racked up a large purchase at Avon (?? can't wait to see how that turns out.) Bought a photo-editing program and spent eight hours glazing myself into fantasy photoland where I have perfect skin, a perfect tan, sometimes really green eyes (and one where I'm a vampire.) Other totally logical purchases include: flying lessons, three dozen oysters (note: I do not eat oysters), and a bunch of photo Christmas cards that literally took me 13 hours to create. Because obviously I had to photoshop me and Boyfriend into supermodeldom first, and then could not narrow down the choices of either card type or photos for the life of me. And as it turns out, some setting on the photos that made them look all cool and vintage 60's on the computer screen in real life made us orange. So get ready friends for our special Jersey Shore edition holiday cards! Woo hoooo!! Fist pump!!

So I send out the old "send me your addresses" message on Facebook and actually had more than one of my friends reply "I'm scared about what you are sending." So now those people are getting Playboy subscriptions and a live parrot. Just for that.

Luckily for Sober Me, even Drunk Me found $89 to be a bit steep of a pricetag for a taxidermied mouse dressed as Hamlet. I mean, we can't be throwing around money like that when I have the country of Kenya to support.


.