The Internet: Encouraging and Depressing At The Same Time

The internet is the reason why I am both sane and insane at the moment.

Sane, because it's my connection to people I know. Otherwise, I spend most of my time conversing with Clinton Kelly and my cat. The former never talks back and the latter is just plain cold. The internet gives me old episodes of 30 Rock (really, the only thing I'm paying Netflix for if we're all being honest with each other and I think we are) and lets me share links of stupid stuff with my family despite our distance.

It's also why I am insane as well, however. Because there are too many things I'm not seeing. Or making. Or becoming, or visiting, or buying. It reminds me of all the ways that I am not as good as other people, who are all out doing all the things. And it continues to remind me that other people have jobs and get money for doing those jobs and then spend that money on things they want to own. Seriously, how is it that LUTZ has a job, and I don't? Where did I go wrong?

It reminds me that there are all kinds of crafts that other people thought of which I never thought of and that makes me jealous and angry. It reminds me that delicious food can be made in my own home, which inevitably involves at least one ingredient I refuse to buy. (Oh, two tablespoons of buttermilk? Well I'll just run to the Tablespoons Of Stuff That Go Bad Quickly store and pick that right on up, sir.) The internet gives me all kinds of awesome hosting ideas, which reminds me that I have no one to host in a city where I know very few. It reminds me that other people are going out and exercising and I didn't. It reminds me that still other people are happily gorging on delicious things instead of exercising and I didn't do that either. It reminds me that other people are getting married and having babies and adopting dogs and finding jobs and traveling and I'm not doing any of that stuff. It reminds me that people who are famous started off when they were younger than me, and that makes me question whether or not I'll ever have any hope of being successful.

All I'm really doing, I guess, is complaining. I'm not looking for help. I know the answer--get up and go do things and quit whining about it. I know. And most days I do. But some days I get sucked in. Today is one of those days.

I Lied. Here's A Post.

Looking through my stats on my blog today and discovered this gem (click to view larger):



These are the keywords people searched for that led them to my site so far this week. The top three (cetaphobia, ends meat and man thigh) are extremely typical and tend to be some of my highest viewed posts at any given time. I didn't realize when I wrote it, but my man thighs one consitently gets the top hits because of the photos I stole and apparently the number of people perusing the internet for them. #accidentallypornfriendly

The "fired from volunteering" one was a joke title but I'll take it. The bottom two are unsurprising, I wrote a post not long ago with an extremely Search Engine Optimized title (on purpose...I wanted to see what would happen.)

But "let me lick this pretty doll".

LET ME LICK THIS PRETTY DOLL?? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? AND WHY DID MY BLOG COME UP AS AN OPTION? WHY? WHY?












WHY?

The Tankini: Theory Vs. Reality

Nothing drives me crazier than when magazines tell me that the best bikini for my body if I don't like my belly is the tankini. A tankini, for those that don't know, is basically a waterproof undershirt paired with normal bikini bottoms.

How Tankini makers market their product:



How a tankini ACTUALLY makes me feel:


And yes, the tankini is not in direct correlation to the fact that I fail at beach hair, but the fact that models have hair stylists to make their hair look like they dipped it in glue and then rubbed it in sand and somehow it became SEXIER is just an unfair addition to the entire situation.

So please, Cosmo, give it to me straight. If I want a swimsuit that gives me support AND hides my problem areas, tell me what I really need: clothing.

Why I Think I'm Allergic To Spinach

My Summer Happy Place

Well I sure put this one off. I promised you alllllll the way back here (and by "you," I mean "Michelle" and "My Mom" because I'm pretty sure they were the only two reading at the time) that I would tell you about my Summer Happy Place once it got hot out. And BOY did it. I think I just put too much pressure on myself to write something cohesive and narratively...um, you know...with the words and the letters and the spelling?

But now it's gotten cold and I've avoided it too long. And frankly, you are all missing out. This is pretty much a sure-fire cure for those nights when no position is comfortable to sleep in and you and your pillow get into a fight.

So you wake up. It's late morning. At first, you don't remember where you are. All you know is, you are in the largest, most comfortable bed you have ever slept in. The sheets are light and cool and impossibly soft. The bed feels a bit like you're sinking into it, like Uncle Fester as played by Christopher Lloyd in the Addams Family Movie. Your pillows are huge and softer than a brand new Beanie Baby.

You sit up. You are in a large, bright hotel room, lit by the sun pouring in through the open french doors to your right. The room is filled with white and tan and blue. You realize it's an ocean-side room when you notice the sound of waves crashing on the beach and someone outside laughing in the distance.

The smell of ocean air is interrupted by something else--something closer. Bacon. As you sit up in bed, (Fill in name here) walks in holding a tray of breakfast food. They sit on the bed next to you.

You eat the bacon.

That's all. Now I dare you to imagine that as you fall asleep tonight.

Sorr about the no posting.

Hey guys,

Sorry, this might be a light week. Moving out, becoming a nomad, etc etc.

I keep walking into rooms, staring at my stuff, smelling a candle, and walking out. This whole "packing" thing...how necessary is it, really?

In the meantime, switch on over to 2birds1blog and Hyperbole and a Half (both linked over there on the right.) They will keep you entertained while I work on gathering my life. Just don't forget about me. I've come to love you all.