Wednesday, March 14, 2012


I'm pressed for time, but I just have to crank out a blog tonight.

Today I am 29.  Tomorrow I will be 30.

I started my first real blog when I was 19.  It was really stupid, but I think I downloaded all that stuff into an archive before I deleted that account.  I should go back and read it sometime.  I'm pretty sure it was all about the boys I had crushes on and stuff I did at work and school.

I'm not sure if my blogs have changed much in the last 10 years.

My 20s were good to me.  I married a man who makes me laugh every day. We bought a house, got a dog and we traveled. A lot.  Still, we live a simple and incredibly blessed life.

I partied like I should have when I was in college and I made friends that will be my friends for the rest of my life.  Nice people who like being nice to other people.  They make me realize how good humans can be.

In my 20s, I came to appreciate my parents in a different way although I still don't show it as much as I should. I came to value my brother as a best friend.

After spending a chunk of my teens being teased, I became comfortable enough with my own nerdiness to not only embrace it, but to wear it as a badge of honor. There are some nerd things I still keep in my nerd closet, but maybe in my 30s I'll realize that it doesn't matter if I'm teased anymore.

I did and said things that I'm embarrassed to admit.   I'm pretty sure I've blocked some moments from my memory for all eternity.  My opinions about the world have changed.  It's perpetual motion, I guess.

Growing up, I was convinced I would die at 23 (I wrote a blog when I was 22, panicking about my upcoming doom) and now that I've made it 7 years past my own personal death clock, I'm pretty pumped I still get to be here.  I'm not sure where my death clock is set, but I've fallen more and more in love with life every day that I get to wake up.

Aside from my latent superpowers awakening, I don't expect much to change when I turn 30 tomorrow.  I still plan too much, get too anxious about things, and still over-think things.  I doubt that will change when I'm 30, but I'm still excited about it.

I wonder what I'll write at 39.

Sayonnara 20s.  Thanks for all the awesome.


A 21 year old me... opening the door to who knows what.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Falling Out of Facebook

Photo by opensourceway, via Flickr. Created by Ruth Suehle

When I first joined Facebook, my tagline was "I hate Facebook."

A year into my Facebook addiction, I realized my old tagline wasn't true anymore and I changed it to "I love nachos."  This is still true.  I REALLY love nachos.  

The strange thing is that I'm starting to find truth in my old tagline again.

With the roll out of the new Facebook Timeline, I've been seriously contemplating a significant reduction in my participation on the site.  As Facebook has applied changes over the last year, I've realized that my privacy features are not completely under my control and as a result I've (believe it or not) reduced my participation on the site.

About a year ago, I created a profile for Apple and decided that I wouldn't friend her so I could confirm that my privacy settings were correct. The "View As" option on FB didn't have a "Friends of Friends" setting and I had been getting strange comments in person about stuff on my profile from people I wasn't friends with.  

Looking at my page from Apple's profile, I was often stunned by the amount of stuff that showed up on my profile even though I had everything (except a few albums and my friends list) set to "Friends Only."  

For example, my wall is set to "Friends Only,"  but viewing my page from Apple's profile, I could see a number of posts because I had tagged other people in those posts. Apple was friends with one of the people I had tagged, and as a result, she could see my original wall post and all the comments that followed. 

I realized that my privacy setting no longer guaranteed that my wall posts were only for my Friends. I had to also rely on the privacy settings of my friends to keep my wall conversations private and my privacy was only as good as the privacy settings of my Facebook friends.

After that discovery, I went through and removed all the tags on my wall posts as far back as I could find. It seemed to solve the problem.  I had already been filtering tag requests for photos and wall posts, but I hadn't really considered that the tags I made on posts on my own wall were as public as the people I tagged in them.

There have also been a few strange moments where I had commented on a post of a friend's wall and subsequently had 3 of my friends - who had no direct connection to the original poster - make comments in response to my comment on the original post.  

The "D commented on Smitty Smith's photo" line showed up in the Ticker and even though my friends didn't know Smitty Smith, they were now a part of a conversation on his wall.  Smitty had just converted to the new timeline and  didn't realize he needed to adjust all of his privacy settings for every individual post. Now people he didn't know were having a conversation on his page and my comment on his page was completely viewable to anyone that decided to look at his page that day.

In the older versions of Facebook, you could tweak your settings so that comments on other people's walls or pictures didn't show up on your wall or in the news feed even if they were on a public page.   Someone would have to go to that public page, like it, and then search for my comment to see it. Facebook now serves up those public comments to your friends on a platter. 

Remember when you'd read comments on other people's pictures and not be able to understand what was happening in the conversation because people were responding to questions that didn't appear on your screen?  That was because the mystery person had their privacy settings set up so that people that were not friends with them couldn't see ANYTHING they wrote ANYWHERE on the site.  I want that back. 

I understand that my comments on public pages are public - just as this blog is public. I would just prefer that I could control how those conversations are broadcast to my extended network - I'd like the option to turn off the feed to the ticker, turn off comment tracking and to selectively accept specific tags.  I would prefer that there be an option to keep myself cloaked in privacy even when participating on a public page.  

I have no problem gushing about my Doctor Who fanaticism among other Doctor Who fans on a fan page, but most of my Facebook friends are not Doctor Who fans and I don't need them seeing every comment I make on a post about an episode they never watched and don't care about. 

I end up having to assume that everything I post anywhere on Facebook is probably public and permanent even if I never intended it to be so.  I have to choose to participate publicly or not participate in the community at all.  I've been choosing not to participate at all.  

I don't think I'll quit Facebook when my profile is forced to transition to Timeline (because I think it's important to stay in touch with changing tech) I just think I will find myself removing everything from it rather than risk a privacy fumble. I had to do this with over 300 blog entries I deleted on my old MySpace profile after their MySpace 2.0 made blogs public even if the profile itself was private. I did save a copy of all of them before deleting and likewise, I will probably just export a copy of my Facebook page for my own use before I start deleting pictures and posts.  

It's a shame, because I loved sharing with my friends - I just don't like unintentionally sharing with everyone else and their mother because a mutual friend happened to comment on my photo or tag me in a wall post.

I know Facebook is free - but so is my e-mail.  If my e-mail policy suddenly changed and I had to mark every message in my inbox "private" or else it would be shared with all the people in my address book, I think I would cancel my e-mail account without hesitation.  

I know that I am not the consumer in the Facebook relationship, I am the product being sold.  The more I share, the more free information I give to Facebook to sell to its advertisers and sponsors. On top of all the unexpected sharing,  the app-linking drives me nuts, I hate the "Highlighted Stories" in the feed, I hate the Ticker features, and I don't play games or participate in polls. I don't know if Facebook is the best social networking site for me anymore anyway.  

What I'm getting at is that it's not so long Facebook... it's just, I'll see you way less Facebook, and you'll see me way less. 

Besides, I have Pinterest to kill time now.

If you're looking for privacy info and resources related to Facebook, check out this site: 

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Oh Hai...

Um.  Hello?

Not sure anyone is there anymore.  Same old story, I've neglected this blog for months.  Two years ago I blamed NaBloPoMo for my absence.  Last year, I didn't even make it to NaBloPoMo.

I have a backlog of things I've been meaning to blog about. Pictures I've meant to edit and post. At some point in the next 500 years, I'll get around to it.

To be fair, I've been kind of busy.  Last year my full time day job became more of an overtime day job with more stress than I've experienced in my previous 6 years with the company.  I had hoped that January would bring a little bit of relief from the workload, but any reduction in responsibilities and related headaches have only been temporary

In addition to my normal M-F grind, I've been writing for DaemonsTV for about a year now.  Writing for money is awesome.  I only wish it was awesome enough that I could sustain (instead of supplement) my income with it.  Perhaps someday.

Even though I suffer unwarranted anxiety over missed grammatical errors and the occasional mean comment-troll; and even though often find myself plagued with writer's block, staring at a blank screen until 20 minutes before my deadline, I absolutely love it.

I don't know if Mike loves it as much as I do.  Writing a couple reviews every night means that I get home, make dinner, and then go to my second job at my computer. That means he's got to entertain himself for a few hours if he's not into the shows that I've got to review.  He gets bored easily.

This week, most of my shows are airing repeats, so I figured I'd blog.

While I work out.

That's right friends. Your version of multitasking is nowhere near as awesome as mine. My netbook is sitting on top of my ironing board, which is wedged next to my stationary bike so that I can write and bike at the same time.  115 calories down.  100 to go.... because I want to pound out the pudge before I turn 30 in March.  I need to put this skill on my resume.

Because I must be some kind of masochist, I've also started taking Japanese classes on the weekends.  I had been teaching myself for a couple of years, but I figured it was time to actually try to learn how to read and write.  Turns out that even if  it's a class for adults, they still give you homework.  Don't they know grown-ups do not have to do homework?  Oy.

Also, trying my hand at Icelandic.  Ever wonder if an almost-30-year-old has the mental capacity to learn two languages at once?  I'll let you know.

Honestly, the point of this entry was not really to make a huge excuse about why I've been too busy to blog (although Facebook, Pinterest and Tumblr have seriously not helped my cause.)  Originally this was going to be a blog about something entirely different (ahem, Downton Abbey) but it took on a life of its own after "Hello?".  It's as if I'm not writing the blog,  the blog is writing me (because it's magical.)

I guess that just means I'll have come back and blog about my original subject some other time.

I hope you'll tune in.

And you better bring a snack.

For me.

All this exercise makes me hungry.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Mini Hoodlums

This morning as I was driving into work, I spotted three middle-school aged boys standing outside my friend's apartment complex.  They had backpacks on, so I assumed they were waiting for a bus or something to come pick them up. I had a bad feeling about three mischievous seeming boys climbing on and around the apartment complex signage at 6:50AM, so I proceeded with caution.

I watched them as I drove past them and glanced back at them in my side view mirror to see the three of them simultaneously raise their hands in the air and THROW SOMETHING AT MY CAR.

I continued driving and waited to see if the stuff they threw would actually reach my car.

It did.

Three thuds.

Thankfully there was no one on the road because I made a calm and conscious decision to pull a Mr. Wheeler, slam on my brakes, throw my car in reverse and go hauling back TO SCARE THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF THOSE KIDS.

Which I'm pretty sure worked. 

My car is old.  I love my car, but a few pebbles hitting it on the side won't hurt much of anything... but this was about the principal of the thing.  1) KIDS.  WTF? and 2) PARENTS. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR KIDS ARE?  THEY'RE THROWING THINGS AT CARS!

So anyway, I watched in my rear view mirror as the three boys went pale the moment I slammed on my brakes.  Then, as they saw my car switch into reverse, I watched as they RAN LIKE THE WIND back into the parking area of the apartment complex.

Like I said, my friend lives in that complex, so I'm fairly familiar with the area. Much to their dismay, I pulled in and followed the little suckers as they kept running around the corner.

I was already running late for work, so I didn't want to waste too much more time but I saw the direction in which they ran and spotted the area in which they were hiding.  So I rolled down my windows and stopped my car within earshot and pretended that I had been on my phone. I started talking obscenely loud:


I looked in my rear view mirror as I drove away.  I think (maybe in my little heart, I just hoped) that one of those boys squatted behind a bush was crying. If so, mission accomplished.

A lesson to all the little childrenses of the universe: Don't frack with my car. Ever.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Comic-Con 2011: The Blog

It has been precisely a week since we've returned from the insanity that is Comic-Con International in San Diego, CA.  This year's SDCC was the most memorable of our trips thus far and it's difficult to imagine how the experience could be any more awesome in future years. 

Here's how it went down.

Wednesday: Preview Night.
This is usually the night we pick up our badges, buy our passes for the following year and wander around the Exhibit Hall before the crowds are overwhelming.  Because SDCC has been selling out so quickly in the past few years, they implemented a new process and the tickets for the following year wouldn't be available until Thursday and only in limited quantities.  It was inconvenient for us, but ultimately I think it was probably the most fair way to handle the tickets for the following year.

If you didn't already know, I've been writing TV reviews for Daemon's TV since January of this year. After preview night I had the opportunity to meet some the people I had been writing for/with in person for the first time.  Everyone was really cool and it was awesome to attach real people to the internet personas I had become familiar with. 

Our Daemon's TV meet up.
Thursday: Day 1
I dress up at Comic-Con for one day out of the week.  I've found I like to do it on the first day because the excitement of being at Comic-Con is still fresh and enough to keep me moving.  This year, I recruited Rhonda into my costuming plans so I would have a buddy (last year she and my brother and Matt dressed up in a Dr. Horrible group.) 

Thank goodness she was down to dress up with me, because the reaction to our costumes was like nothing I could have ever anticipated.
My brother shot this photo of the crowd taking our photos as we stepped into the convention center.
It was so much fun and SO exhausting.  Normally I can wear my costume, walk the exhibit hall, look at artwork, buy stuff and check out the booths while occasionally being stopped for photos, but in these costumes it took us about an hour to get from the entrance of the exhibit hall to the back side in a straight line where we wanted to get nachos for lunch.  Security was constantly asking us to move and my brother and Mike eventually had to work crowd control just so we could get to a spot where we could sit down.  

Even as we ate, the photos did not stop and as I was shoveling lunch into my mouth people were taking pictures.  I had a renewed appreciation for my college years spent doing character work at Disneyland. I was having flashbacks of summer crowds and remembered that this was exactly the reason we needed hourly breaks, away from the crowds.
At one point, a woman from Entertainment Weekly approached us and asked us if we would be in a EW photoshoot at the Hard Rock Hotel, shot by photographer Michael Muller.  

Um.  OK!

The photo shoot set up
So, we did that and ended up here:,,20399642_20512572,00.html#20992382
(*UPDATE* Turns out we also made it into the August 5, 2011 print edition on the Table of Contents page!)

Rhonda was excited because Justin Timberlake had been on that same set just minutes before us.  I was excited because... free snacks!

So that was Thursday.  I tried to get into the Archer panel, but the line was longer than I had anticipated so we missed that.  I ended up with blisters on my feet from walking around all day in my "comfortable" shoes.  

It took me about a year to make my costume since I was learning how to sew, use tools and materials as I went along.  I will probably just be wearing it again next year to get full use out of it.  I don't have the energy to make another costume for a while.  I have some changes to make... like... way more comfortable shoes.  And, next year we're adding at least one more villain to our gang, so that will be even more fun.  

Friday: Day 2
I don't know how to best describe how awesome Friday was.  Best single day at Comic-Con (for me) ever.  The Venture Bros. Panel, Bob's Burgers Panel and Alphas Panel were all great, but more importantly... everything else.

You might remember my blog from last year, geeking out over Bob's Burgers before it had even aired and being all giddy because I got to take a photo with Loren Bouchard, right? It got better this year.

You guys.
Loren Bouchard recognized me! I'm not even joking! 

AND he told me that he has read everything that I've written!!!!***
***He said that, but let's be honest, he probably meant that he reads everything I write on Daemon's TV about Bob's Burgers... not everything I write... especially not my blog.  My mom doesn't even read my blog.

So I squealed like a raging fan girl and Mike snapped this picture after the panel.

Me & Loren Bouchard... AGAIN
That's my Bob's Burgers tee-shirt from last year's Comic-Con panel that I altered to fit a lady!  
He posed for this picture twice, because he said he didn't want to pose the same way he did last year.... squeeeeee!

So anyway... as if I wasn't already seeming like a crazy fangirl by sitting in the front row of the Bob's Burgers panel, we ran into Bouchard again at night as we were walking to the Adult Swim party which we got passes to earlier in the day. He was nice enough to talk to us as we walked in the same direction.  I had a couple of glasses of Jameson before we walked over there, so I'm not 100% sure I was talking like a normal person... but whatever.  He was nice and didn't make me think that he thought I was crazy.  I wouldn't fault him if he did.

My dilemma now is... what do I do next year?  I mean, I've had photos with him two years in a row.  If there is a Bob's Burgers panel next year, I will... going and I will... duh...want to be in the front row... but am I allowed to take a photo like this ever again?  If he was someone who had no recollection of me, I'd be like "hi, I'm a fan... photo?" and wouldn't think twice... but now.... do I have to be cool? YOU GUYS.  I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BE COOL!!! 

So, you have a year to tell me how to handle this.  How do I balance my obvious fandom with the fact that I don't want to be THAT FREAKY FAN? I've met lots of famous people - including the guy at the top of my "list," Mr. Johnny Depp himself, and I've never been struck with this panic. Johnny Depp and the others I've met would never remember me in a million years (plus actors don't intimidate me the way writers do.)  I'm a drop in the bucket.  I'm used to that. The fact that he remembered me is incredible and totally intimidating... but most of all it's proof that Loren Bouchard is a genuinely nice human being.  

Continuing with the awesome of Friday... this happened at the Adult Swim party:
Yup - Doc Hammer of Venture Bros. fame.
Can we discuss how cool Doc Hammer looks and HOW I COULD NOT BE ANY MORE DORKY IN THAT PICTURE?

And of course, Jackson Publick, also of Venture Bros. fame.
Let's discuss how much of an a-hole I was for noticing that Jackson was smoking when he had talked in the panel earlier about how he was quitting smoking.  Really?  REALLY ME?  "I'm a huge fan. I thought you were quitting?"  WHY WOULD I SAY THAT!?   He was so nice to me even if I was a total and complete arse.  So I fail forever.  That is exactly why people should not let me drink EVER.  Except for sometimes because I'm also awesome when I drink. 


So 50/50.

Michael Sinterniklaas & Me
Before the Adult Swim party we ran into Michael Sinterniklaas - also of Venture Bros. fame... but also even more so of his acclaimed work in dubbed anime... which I didn't know about until we talked that night.  

I was too shy to talk to anyone at the bar but when Mike spotted Michael, he desperately tried to convince me that I should go tell him I was a fan.   Since this was pre-whiskey, I could not be convinced so Mike went over talked to him for me. In a couple of minutes, they both came back to where I was sitting. 

Seriously, this guy was SO cool... he took pictures with my brother and my mom and everybody in our group.  He's currently working on a TNMT project and Gundam Unicorn and he does the voice for the English dub of the main character in Summer Wars (I actually have the DVD and have just never watched it in English. You can borrow it.  It's a really great anime movie.)  

Best moment with him was when he said "scissor me" meaning do the Venture Bros. pose above.  Instead I scissored his V hand gesture with my V hand gesture.  Yah.  I'm that a-hole.  People should  keep me away from other human beings.  He still talked to me after that, so he's obviously really nice. 

Also on Friday...Mike got his photo that he took with Kevin Smith last year signed by Kevin Smith.   Matt schmoozed with everyone from Torchwood at the bar, Rhonda got Steven Spielberg's autograph... on her phone... then she, along with my brother and my mom somehow talked their way into some exclusive party at the Hard Rock where they ate all sorts of food and drank all kinds of open bar booze. Then back at our hotel my mom took photos with David Arquette at the bar.

So all that happened.  In one day.  I expect a day like that will never happen again.

Saturday: Day 3
Can't remember.  Did I already tell you about Friday? 

Saturday...Tr!ckster!  That was cool. We bought art.
Oh and Mythbusters. Neato!

And there's a small chance I'll show up on TV in a year asking either Jon Favreu or William Shatner questions for a Kevin Smith project that will make me seem like a total dufus.  Get excited about seeing me ask "Mr. Shatner, what's your favorite Star Trek episode?"  Trust me.  I was fed the questions.

Oh!  And we met up and grabbed drinks with friends.  I love friends! And cookies! Good times.
Sunday: Day 4
Doctor Who. 

Can't get enough of them... I want to go on a TARDIS ride. 

And then... exhibit hall...

 Couldn't find Pikachu this year!  So Naruto and Kon worked!

That's my mom who originally photobombed me when I was trying to get a photo at the VIZ Media booth. This was her first year at SDCC, but she naturally knew how to work the exhibit hall.  In all my years I have never seen a person come back with so much swag... ever.  Totally impressive.

Followed by two and a half hours in traffic to get home. So tired.

Overall, awesome times.  Still recovering, but already looking forward to next year.  Woo!

     P.S. Thanks Mike for everything... you're pretty much the only reason I ever had the chance to talk to any of the people I think are cool.  You're the best husband an awkward nerdy girl could ever ask for.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Significant Time Capsules

This was an entry I originally wrote in 2008 for a "family update" kind of blog that we were supposed to write in to keep extended family up-to-date with our lives.  Our day to day activities are pretty boring so when there was a lack of entries, I'd blog about something random to fill the space.  Now I do that here and since the husband isn't as fond of blogging as I am, that blog hasn't been updated in over a year.
Anyway, this entry makes me laugh every time I look at it so I'm re-posting it here on this blog.  Made a couple edits, but it's pretty much the same: 
In November of 1989 my family went to the Kid’s Stuff convention. My brother and I filled out a time capsule which was not to be opened until November of 2000. Well, we forgot about it and in rummaging through old stuff, my mom pulled these two capsules out. 
Here is mine. I wrote half of it in pencil making it difficult to read on the pink paper - so I transcribed it below:

Date: ? (no concept of time apparently)
Age: 7
Grade: 3
Hobbies: swim, piano, tv watch
(some things don’t change), birds (really?)
My Best Friend Is: Tina

My Message To Myself For The Year 2000 Is: I shall love everyone (I was a hippie)
My Goal For Myself Is: To be a good student (The perfect child)
My Dream For The World Is: Love and Peace (My dreams actually haven’t changed much, I guess.)
My Plan Of Action To Accomplish My Dreams: is I will study verry hard (Study how to spell very.)

Here is my brother’s capsule. In some ways he's a bit more realistic than I was:
Date: 1989 (I bet he cheated and looked at the front of the form)
Age: 6
Grade: 1
Hobbies: piano, play, tv, math

My Best Friend Is: Shelbey

My Message To Myself For The Year 2000 Is: How old I am; what grade; everything (He’s being logical.)
My Goal For Myself Is: Alf (LOL!!!) Green Valley(Swim Team), Bibl Quiz, X
My Dream For The World Is: Money (His dreams actually haven’t changed much either.)
My Plan Of Action To Accomplish My Dreams: XXXXX (Got it...makes total sense.)

It should be a life requirement that kids fill these kinds of things out before they turn 8 years old, because the material is just magical.  I was talking to McPe the other day and she said she also had a time capsule as a kid and recently found it. Among the questions on hers was: "What is your favorite smell?" her response, "The smell of food." She's now a successful food scientist. I guess we don’t change all that much.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Voice-over Work

From the day Apple became part of our family, Mike and I have done this thing that I'm just starting to realize not all pet owners do.  When one of us asks Apple a question, the other will answer as Apple's voice-over.  Describing it now makes me realize how strange that actually makes us, but what's even stranger is that it wasn't something that came up gradually, it just automatically happened. 

Usually her voice-over is influenced by whatever animated shows we're watching at the moment.  The first voice that naturally came out as Apple's inner voice was South Park's Eric Cartman. Although there's a gender and species discrepancy, this is the voice and inner attitude that returns most often when we're talking for Apple.  Her voice-over has also had stints as Henchman 21 and Dermott Fictel from the Venture Bros. and Special Sister Mary from Lucy, Daughter of the Devil (voiced by Eugene Mirman.) Right now, we're having moments of Tina from Bob's Burgers squeak into the rotation (voiced by Dan Mintz.... we've never been able to get any actual girl voices into our girl dog's inner voice) especially when Apple is being awkward.

Apple's voiceover is 1% lovin', 99% attitude.  Yes.  She's a bitch.  Literally.  But also figuratively.  Some sample conversations we've had:

In her "NPR Cartman" voice

Scene: Apple sees me throwing out chicken bones and cleaning out the roasting pan and is suddenly interested in what I'm doing in the kitchen.
Apple:  Hey mom, what... what are you doing?
Me:  None of this is for you.
Apple:  No, that's coo.  I'm just.  I just love you so much.  And you know, chicken.
Me: You can't eat this.
Apple: But maaaaaaaaaawwwwm.
Me: Don't lick the trash can.
Apple:  I hate you.  So very. Very. Much.

In her "Angry Cartman" voice.

Scene:  Mike got out of bed for 3 minutes to run to the restroom.  Apple immediately moved to his spot and is snuggling up next to his pillow so he can't get back in bed.
Mike:  Apple, really?
Apple:  Suck it, dad.
Mike:  No, Apple, you need to move.
Apple: Whateva, I do what I want.  You're not the boss of me.
Mike pushes Apple out of his spot.
Apple: I just want to say: I love you guys, I do... except you Dad.  I hate you.

Scene: Mike and I are downstairs sitting on the couch watching TV.  Apple is upstairs.  Alone.  Not hanging out with us.
Me: "Apple!  Come down here and hang out with us!" 
Apple runs out of the bedroom and stares at us from the top of the stairs.
Me:  "Apple!  Come here!  Snuggle!!!"
Apple:  "I'm busy.  Damn hippies."
Apple turns around and runs back to the bedroom 

In her "Special Sister Mary" voice
(there's a video... if you can't see it, here's the link: )

Scene:  We're trying to put Apple's harness on so we can go outside.
Mike:  Apple, come here.
Apple:  Uhm.  No.
Mike:  Come here.
Apple:  Uhm. No thanks. You guys go without me.  I'm cool.
She runs back upstairs and puts herself in her crate.

Scene:  Apple is sitting on Mike's chest.  In bed.  At 1 AM.  STARING at his face.
Apple:  Uhm.  Dad?
Mike:  No.
Apple: Uhm.  Dad... I have to pee.
Mike:  No.  I just took you outside 15 minutes ago.  And all you did was bark at the air.
Apple:  Fine. I hope you enjoy the surprise turd I leave in your closet tonight.  Sleep tight.
Mike closes his eyes.
Apple slaps him.  With her paw.  She actually does that.
Apple: Take me outside or I will cut you.

So 4 years now we've been doing this... and we do it automatically.  It's gotten worse.  Recently, when other people ask Apple questions, we'll instinctively respond.  For example the following exchange happened at my birthday party when Apple met one of our friends for the first time:

Colin: Hi Apple! You sure are a cutie pie!
Apple looks at him and deftly avoids a gentle pat on the head scooting past him.  I provide the voice over without thinking twice.
Apple:  Yah buddy, I got shiz to do and crap on the floor to eat.  No time to chat.
Colin looks at me silently.  He blinks.  I explain that I'm insane.

We've also started doing this for babies.  Which makes things more troubling because Mike and I seem to assume that all babies have the same attitude as Apple and many parents don't agree with our foul mouth interpretations of their darling child's inner thoughts.  Most people put cute things into the mouths of speechless babes, but when we see babies, they're little smack talkers.

So far we have yet to meet anyone that does what we do.  People seem to imagine inner voices for their pets, but none of them actually have conversations with those inner voices.  So that either means that both Mike and I are insane, or insanely awesome.  Win win.  

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Doppelganger Dream Theater

My husband might literally be the nicest person in the world.  Yes.  Literally.  He is so nice to everyone all the time. He’s even nice when I’m being annoying.  And I am annoying a lot.  I haven’t met everyone in the world yet, so I could be wrong… and he’s no saint, but when it comes to being nice, he’s at the top of the nice list.

Which makes it odd when I have dreams like the one I had two nights ago.

Dreams where my Mike is mean to me. 

I’ve had them at least once every six months since we’ve been together – so going on 8 years now.  And, because Mike is so nice, he actually feels guilty about the actions of Mean Dream Mike and desperately tries to find some way to make it up to me for his evil dream twin. When I tell real life Mike about my dreams, he seriously feels bad about it and apologizes! 

The subject varies, but it’s always ridiculous.  This most recent dream was one where Mean Dream Mike bought a house and paid cash because he wanted to live in a house separate from me and not pay for the mortgage.  I sobbed hysterically and he tried to calm me by saying “I don’t want a divorce; I just don’t want to live with you.”   SO MEAN! RIGHT!?

Another time I had a dream that we were at a party and he kept making fun of the stories I was telling, so I threw my punch in his face and ran and cried in another room.  Another one I remember was that he went on vacation… WITHOUT TELLING ME!

SO MEAN!!!! 

(And also, I cry a lot in my dreams. Wah wah wah)

Why do I do this?  Why do I dream that he’s mean to me?  I never dream that he cheats on me, or that he physically abuses me, but I totally dream up scenarios where he’s such a mean guy!  In the morning, I’m so relieved to discover that nice Mike is real life Mike that I’m overcome with joy and want to hug and kiss him to death and make sure he never leaves my side.    Is it because his real life persona is so nice that my subconscious has to make up for it by making him evil in my dreams? 

Why can’t I dream that he’s a superhero and then be able to tell him about that in the morning? He would be so pumped instead of depressed!  Usually when I dream about superheroes, it’s just me with the awesome skills.  Come on sub-conscious, cut the husband a break… how about cranking out an awesome superhero dream for Mike sometime?

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Swim Team Superstar

When I was younger, my mom enrolled my brother and me in as many extra curricular activities as humanly possible.  By the age of 10, I had participated regularly in calligraphy lessons, chess lessons, piano lessons, cheer team, soccer team, bowling leagues, karate tournaments, tennis lessons, swim team, basketball team, children's choir, and dance lessons. This was on top of to the academic Kumon cram school, French lessons and summer Bible school.

Obviously my mom wanted us to grow into well rounded adults from all those experiences.  I think there was also probably a part of her that just needed a little break from the exhaustion caused by my constant kinetic energy (see Exhibit A below.)

Exhibit A:


For all these activities, I liked to participate and I liked to win, but I didn't like the ever present serious side of the competition.  My parents never pressured me to win at anything, and they were never upset with me for losing at anything. My mom came to all my games, tournaments, performances and competitions. She cheered me on louder than any other parent, but the only pressure I felt from her was to adhere to my obligations to a team or to a planned lesson. To her, it didn't matter if I was the best or if I was the worst as long as I participated like I had promised when I signed up. This was how my mom taught me that commitment was the most important thing to learn from these activities

Dance and Girl Scouts were the only things my mom let me quit before full participation. I quit both at the mature age of 8 after one day of each. I decided the Brownies were totally stupid because, who needs a macaroni necklace?  Certainly not me.  And later, I apparently decided that the shuffle step was stupid and promptly quit that before my mom paid for more lessons. As Logie and McPe will tell you, I totally did not need any dance instruction anyway because I am a natural born awesome dancer of total win - see video above. .  

What I didn't like about competitive events was when the parents and kids that were determined to win, lost.  I felt bad for them and I remember standing on the soccer field watching a dad yell at his daughter (who was the star player on the opposite team) for making a stupid mistake which she acknowledged and apologized for.  I was not able to understand what the big deal was or why he was mad at her.  I liked running around on the field and looking at the grass and picking up lady bugs, wearing my cute uniform, talking to my team mates, kicking the ball if it came to me, figuring out strategies and cheering when a goal was scored. So your daughter was called "offside"... who cares?  I had been called offside like 10 times in the same game already and I still had no idea what that meant. Weren't we all here at this soccer field for the oranges, string cheese and Capri Sun? Maybe if we're lucky, a Lampost Pizza Party? Just let us play some soccer so we can get to the snacks, Mr. Girl's Dad!  

I didn't like losing either, but since I was naturally pretty terrible at most sports, had no skill for the piano, couldn't beat anyone at chess and had the biggest bowling handicap in the entire league, I was used to it and it didn't bother me too much when I lost.  In solidarity, I cried whenever my team cried, but by the time I got home all I could remember was how fun it was to play the game. A perfect toe touch, bowling a Turkey or breaking away on the court with the ball were so much more thrilling than the actual win. 

As kids grew up and became better at what they did, all they seemed to care about was how to win more even if it meant the game was less fun. If  I enjoyed a sport or activity, I wanted to get better at it and be the best at it because I liked doing it. If that meant I would win, that was totally awesome.  If not, no big deal, we still get snacks, right?

My childhood zen attitude towards these activities began to falter with the only team sport I was actually really good at: Swim Team.

For my first few years, I didn't realize there was a competition to it at all.  I just liked swimming and I loved the breaststroke. For a while, I was the best at breaststroke in my age group. So long as I kept being put into breaststroke heats, I was happy.  I got good enough to be put into team relays and sometimes swam against older kids. At the end of my races they'd give me a blue or red ribbon which I threw towards my mom and ran to my towel to eat some nachos. It was perfect.  

As I got better, my competition got better.  I would swim as fast as I could, with my best stroke and still I'd come out in last place.  Normally, I'd be fine with blending into the team, being proud of my valiant yet fruitless effort and moving on, but as I got better at swimming, I began to feel pressure to win. Not from my parents, but from my coaches and team mates who were counting on me for something I  had considered a bonus instead of a goal.

Suddenly I was disappointing not only my team and coaches, but all those moms and dads in the crowd that didn't care how beautiful my frog stroke was.  I never felt this from my parents and the pressure from unknown strangers was suffocating.  My breaststroke wasn't keeping up with the competition so I was eventually moved into lower level heats in freestyle, backstroke, or the horrid butterfly stroke (which coincidentally, my brother was REALLY good at.)

I no longer enjoyed swim meets. 

Normally this might be where a kid tells his or her parents that they want to quit swim team, but since the only thing my parents asked of me from all these activities was that I stick to a commitment, I had to finish out the remainder of the new season  that they had just paid for.  So I did.  But I had to make some adjustments. 

If I was going to come in last, it was going to be to the sound of applause, cheers and hugs from my team mates.  

And how does one do that, you ask?

By choking on pool water. 

If I looked out of the corners of my eyes and saw that almost all the other swimmers had already come out of the pool and that I was dead last it meant it was time for action. 

At my next breath, I would turn my head for air and intentionally suck in a mouth full of water - urine and chlorine be damned.  As I did this I was sure to immediately tweak my stroke with a huge splash and sink a little bit and immediately bob distressingly to the safety of the divider lanes where I proceeded to spit up my mouth full of water and begin coughing loudly so that tears welled up in my eyes.  

My coaches would immediately run to the side of the pool and ask if I was ok and see if I needed any help. I had to pretend to be in such distress and so overwhelmed by coughing that I couldn't hear them until the last swimmer was out of the pool.  Once they were out, I looked at my coach with tears streaming down my face and stopped coughing while they encouraged me to finish my laps and get out of the pool.  

Which I did. Happily and slowly.

To the sound of a stadium filled with applause.  I was a hero.

I was smart enough to know I couldn't use this tactic often.  I only used it two or three times when the distance between me and the last swimmer was so great that I'd be getting out of the pool on my own anyway. It worked every time.

The only person who ever saw through my act was my brother and I'm grateful that he kept his suspicions private until my time on swim team was completely over.  When he was really little, I was obviously better than him at most things, but as we grew it was clear that he was naturally more adept at sports, music and strategy than I was. By the time I was pulling these shenanigans, I think part of him knew that I was just trying to make the best of an unhappy situation. He would know.  I simply perfected a strategy he thought up years before (see Exhibit B below.)

Exhibit B.

So the moral of the story is, if you can't beat 'em...there are a ton of other options.   True story.

Queen of Swimming, Miss Queen Universe.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011


I'd like to think that I have a pretty long fuse.  In general I can be relatively patient with annoying situations or irritating people, but there are a handful of things that make my eyes cross, my hair stand on end and my brain go bananas.  Little things that force my blood pressure up into dangerous levels for about 30 seconds before I regain composure.  No talk of politics, religion, or controversy flings me into the same reactionary fit that my pet peeves do. 

Because I've encountered all these things in the last week, and I'm a person who loves to make lists, it can only's time for a list!

1. House Flies.

FLY.  YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY HOUSE.  You can spend all day spitting up on dog poo and sucking up the nutrients you need for sustenance outdoors, but my house is off limits!  I do everything in my power to keep you out but when you manage to sneak in, you're not content to sit in one spot spitting up on kitchen bin scraps. You insist on flying around the house in the middle of the night, zooming past my ears at irregular intervals making what may be the most obnoxious noise known to man while I'm trying desperately to sleep.  HOW THE EFF DID YOU GET INSIDE!?!? YOU DISGUSTING CREEP! I don't like killing insects, so I try to force you outside, but you're a jerk, fly.  You refuse to leave... and that's why I've had to buy a swatter.

2. Irresponsible Dog Owners.

Dear irresponsible dog owners: There are leash laws - even if your dog won't run away from you,  you are required to keep your dog on a leash.  Do it for that my dog doesn't freak out when we're on a walk and sees your dog running at her.   Also, there are dog waste laws - pick up after your dog so I don't drive over your dog poo in my driveway...again.  If your dog is horny, get him fixed. If your dog is sick, take him to a vet. If your dog is an escape artist, consider crate training. If you've got a bad dog, most likely it's because you're a bad dog owner. Take responsibility and quit making it suck for the majority of good dog owners.

3. Backwards Emoticons.

I've covered this many times before.  DO NOT DO THIS.  (:  Is stupid. This is how an emoticon face is meant to look :) Happy. (: is just a bald man. No mouth. No nose. NO EMOTION.

4. Douchebag Drivers.

Use your turn signal. You only get one parking space per car, parked in between the lines.  You don't get to park in fire lanes. You don't get to drive on the shoulder to get ahead of traffic.  Ever.  Drive like you might know the person in the car next to you and give an apologetic wave when you make an honest mistake. Otherwise, you're a douchebag driver.

5. Cigarette Butt Heads.

FYI, your cigarette butt IS litter (read this and this if you're in denial.)  The road is not your giant ash tray - you have one in your car, use it.  The floor is not your ash tray, the beach is not your ash tray.  Need to smoke on the go? Then carry this with you Zippo Pocket Ashtray  Don't be a butt head.

6. Leaving the Toilet Seat Up.

Guess who falls in the toilet in the middle of the night trying to keep the lights off so as not to wake anyone else from their delicate slumber? Me. Guess who falls in the toilet after holding it for half an hour rushing to get relief?  Me.  A wet ass is not a happy ass. Most of the time, I end up cleaning the toilet anyway, so put the seat down and learn to aim. (Special note: Husband... I will love you forever despite a wet ass. Everyone else... well, leave the toilet seat up at your own risk and sleep with one eye open.) 

7. People Who Ignore Signs

"Return The Weights To The Stack", "No Parking", "10 Items or Less", "No Dirty Dishes In The Sink", "Recycling Bin", "No Returns",  "No U Turn", "Cash Only", "No Right Turn On Red" etc...  Believe it or not, those words mean things.  Signs are put in place for a reason and when you don't pay attention, you make things annoying for everyone else.

8. Unused Time Left on the Microwave

My meeting is at 1:30, what time is it? 1:15... like it has been for the last 45 minutes.

9. Rogue Shopping Carts

Seriously, walk 10 feet and return your cart to the cart receptacle in the parking lot.  Those things were built for a reason. They've already got a dude that pushes all those carts into the store for you, he shouldn't have to go hunting all around the parking lot for your stray cart. It takes only a few seconds and your fat ass will thank you.

10. People Who Are Rude To Servers

I can't stand it when people are rude to servers, clerks, hosts, bartenders, postal workers, mechanics, janitors, manicurists...basically anyone who has to put up with rude people while at the same time providing the spoiled brats a service with a smile.  Is it really so hard to be polite and be patient with another human being who is providing you with a service? I guarantee they're not being paid enough to put  up with your attitude.

So there it is.  My 2011 list of peeves.  Looking at them now I'm realizing that 80% of my peeves can be summed up in what I guess must be my mega-peeve:  inconsiderate people.  I'm probably unaware of many things I do that annoy people (um, like maybe being a type-A stickler for the rules?) but I do my best to try and act in a way that I want others to act around me.  Do inconsiderate people really have no problem with me putting dog poop in their lawn, leaving my shopping cart behind their car, leaving my trash on the floor, blocking their garage with my car and taking up two spots in a totally full parking lot?  Really?  Are these folks so zen that nothing  has ever bothered them at all and as a result they can not fathom that anyone else would be bothered by anything they thoughtlessly do? Really?  I doubt I'll ever know.

Saturday, January 22, 2011



Um.  Happy New Year?

I sure showed NaBloPoMo who was boss... not only did I stop blogging half way through November, but I totally ignored my blog through December and I'm about half way through January and I considered not blogging just to be stubborn.

But then I decided, maybe not.

I have been busy. And actually, it involves writing and watching cartoons for a legitimate purpose... so now you can't judge me.  This whole development is still in it's infancy, so I won't discuss it much just yet but it is exciting nevertheless.

I won't bother to do a recap of what transpired in the last 8 weeks or so.  I'd rather it remain enigmatically surrounded by mystery and sex appeal.  You can come up with your own theories and discuss the exciting unknown events of D in December and it will totally be a hotbed of intrigue like Agatha Christie's 1926 disappearance.

Speaking of Agatha Christie - I've started watching Doctor Who.  And by started, I mean I've finished all 5 series of the relaunch on Netflix and I eagerly await the upcoming new season.  So that was awesome.

I need to start an organization.  I'll call it Nerd Scouts.  You'd get a uniform and a hat and a sash and you collect badges in your Nerd Troop.   For example, if you're a Nerdie, you're the lowest level nerd and you make Star Wars light sabers out of popsicle sticks and Star Trek insignia patches out of macaroni that you give to your parents as a thank you for letting you live in their basement at 35.

As you go up in the ranks of the Nerd Scouts, you collect badges - I probably would have just received my Tardis Badge for catching up to Doctor Who in under 2 weeks, but my Nerd Scout superior who has earned the rank of Elf Scout carries a bow and arrow that he earned at his LOTR ceremony and a Dalek Badge for having seen every episode of Doctor Who since 1963. The badge earning possibilities are practically unlimited!

Once a year, we'd sell Nerd Scout Cheesy Poofs (nerd snack of choice) in flavors like, White Cheddar, Burninating The Universe Spicy and Classic Orange and suggest flavors of Shasta to compliment with the sole purpose of collecting enough funds to make it to our annual scout jamboree in San Diego aka. ComicCon.

Seriously, doesn't it just sound super awesome?! Who's in!?

Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Official Statement

All I have to really say on the subject is: screw you NaBloPoMo.  You are not the boss of me. Truly, the very idea of NaBloPoMo goes against everything this blog stands for and I decided it was high time to fight back with non-violent protest.


I haven't blogged at all this week.  Mostly because I was busy with being alive off the internet.  Or because sometimes I forgot.  Both things are legit when we're talking about procrastination skills.

On the bright side, Friday is just around the corner.  And on Saturday I'm getting my nails done which will probably inspire me to write a blog about how much I love my nail salon.  Because I love them.

After the weekend comes 2.5 days of labor and then VACATION!  So YAY!

Also, last night I had a dream that Mike and I bought a big tacky house with a yard and we brought Apple over and she morphed into a hot pink stuffed animal and kept climbing up the walls and fences like a monkey - and then she slipped out of the door of our new house and she ran up the side of the fence and hopped in a tree.  I had to climb up the tree to get Apple - the barking wiggly stuffed toy.

When I woke up and saw the real Apple, I was confused because she wasn't pink and made of cotton and polyester.  It was really strange that I expected to see a living stuffed animal toy in Apple's place and it threw me off for a while.

I think my mind is still in dreamland.

(photo courtesy of Flickr user: .Purf)

Friday, November 12, 2010

Dog V. Pillow

No time to really blog tonight... but I'm sticking to the one blog post per day for NaBloPoMo as well as I possibly can, so I present 1:32 minutes of Apple digging into a pillow.

She had skin allergies so we had to put a spray on her stomach area to calm her itchies.  This is how she reacted (and how she reacts to freshly washed bedding, eating a tasty snack and other random things... it entertains me, but she's my dog, so practically everything she does entertains me.)

Have a great weekend! :)

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The White Stuff

I love mayonnaise. The really quality stuff... it makes almost everything taste better and  I feel like a good chunk of the world is with me on this one. I eat it in moderation only because of the potential health issues related to indulging in it too much. I think as a condiment, mayonnaise is under appreciated in the US and more disastrously, Mike HATES mayonnaise.

It's become a joke when I'm preparing a sandwich for him (or an artichoke, or tuna salad or egg salad or veggie dip, or...)  I'll ask "would you like mayo?" as I scoop it onto my delicious sandwich.  And he'll reply, "horf" and begin gagging.  I haven't tried to convert him - he's so repulsed by it that I don't think there's any way I could do anything to convince him how tasty mayonnaise can be and part of me just believes he must be lacking a certain part of his brain that really gets the awesome of a good mayo.

Part of it is mental - he can enjoy a well cooked dip or meal enhanced by the taste of mayo and it's not until the moment he sees the empty jar of mayonnaise in the trash bin that he can no longer enjoy the food he was scarfing only moments ago.

I'm tempted to make my own mayo and from reading recipes it seems really easy but I'm sure I'd probably manage to mess it up. Anyone have a killer recipe?  A delicious aoli?

I dislike a lot of foods and condiments, but I don't think any of them repulse me the way that Mike is repulsed by mayo.  I really (REALLY) hate peas... but I love split pea soup - it's a pea texture not a pea taste thing.  Maybe the closest thing I've got is olives.  Mike can eat olives like they're candy.  I have tried time and time again to like them without success.  I'll take a bite and really try to enjoy that greasy squishy dirt taste that Mike seems to love so much but it doesn't click.  How can olive oil taste so wonderful when the fruit it's born from tastes like mud goo?  It doesn't connect for me.  Tapenades make my tongue twitch and a stray olive on a slice of pizza makes me lose interest in finishing the rest of my meal (ok, I'm exaggerating... I'm  really good at eating around them.) So I suppose on a small scale I can relate, but it's a very very small scale.  A miniature scale... for dollhouses.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Arts & Craftiness

I don't consider myself a very crafty person.  I can barely use a sewing machine and the thought of knitting or quilting something from scratch gives me hives.  I used to scrap book a bit, but I've ended up with bags full of scraps and only one or two books.  

I do have some talent in the computer crafts arena though and I was happy to be able to put those skills to use for Mike's 30th Star Wars party.  I put together the invitation, the cupcake toppers, and a bunch of other signs and decor that would pull the theme together.  I love doing this kind of thing and I wish the opportunity to make stuff like this would come up more often.  The hours fly by in what feels like a blink of an eye and I somehow become entertained and relaxed in the process of being productive... which never happens in most any other productive situation for me... hello, this is a blog about procrastination.  I'm best at not being productive.

I'm kind of proud of what I put together though, so I thought I'd share them here since I'm not sure what else to write about for NaBloPoMo today.  

If you hadn't seen them already:

This was a poster I printed up a couple copies of and put up all over the venue... 
yes, that's Mike's face on all the characters.

This was one of the first things I put together when I was making the party website.
It only ended up on the website which had costume ideas and party info.

 The official Star Wars Party Invitation - inspired by the DVD sets.

These are the front side of the Star Wars cupcake toppers. 
I got most of the images from the free print outs available on the official Halloween post. 
A number of our guests showed up wearing the masks that we used for our cupcake toppers.

The back side of the cupcake toppers - using the same theme "The Thirtieth Rebellion" and the roman numerals for 30 that the Star Wars logos use for all their releases.  Sardean lent me her circle cutter thingie thing to cut them out... that circle cutter thingie thing is incredibly therapeutic.  Mike did a good job assembling a lot of these and getting all crafty gluing them to toothpicks to stick into the cupcakes I made.

 A sign we made to put on the door of the venue - normally they're open to the public on Saturdays but we rented the place out for the night so we wanted to keep the riff raff out.  There were a few people who missed the sign and walked in and were immediately confused by everyone's costumes and quickly made a beeline to the exit.  I also made signs for the bar and for the photo booth... not sure if anyone actually noticed them... they were printed on 4x6 and put into frames.  Turned out cute, but small.

We had a great turn out of family and friends and are so grateful that everyone could be there to celebrate Mike's big 30 with a Star Wars party... something he'd always wanted but never expected everyone would be so willing to participate.  My brother built a photo booth, we had a live band play a set (Fartbarf - they are really really good - check them out.  So awesome), our friend Bryan DJ'd for the night and to wrap up the evening, our friend Will brought his serious Karaoke supplies and everyone sang the night away. The party was just a whole lot of fun.  

At one point, Mike asked me how he would possibly throw me a party like this for my 30th... I told him he didn't have to...because I'd be fine with a trip around the world instead (obviously I'm expecting us to win the lottery in the next 2 years... which is a good blog for tomorrow... because let me just tell you... I'd be an awesome lottery winner.)

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Blog 2. Woo Hoo.

Before I went on our trip to Iceland I was going to the gym 5 days a week.  F.I.V.E.  Never in my life would I have expected to go to the gym 5 days in a row, but I was doing it, for months... and for a while there, I was actually really enjoying it.

After Iceland (in August) I haven't been able to get my act together and have maybe gone to the gym a total of 8 times. Something happened and now I can barely make it 20 minutes working out without my brain screaming "THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG!!!!"  My body remembers the workout, it's not too fatigued and getting back up to my old pace isn't hard... my brain just refuses to get on board with the plan.

I work out at a really small gym - there are at most 4 other people working out there at the same time as I am.  The cardio machines each have their own TV with DirectTV satellite which used to be enough to keep my brain distracted long enough for me to get in a solid hour of cardio or weight training.

It no longer does the trick.  I can find a boring TV show or rerun to distract me as I work out in the evenings, but as soon as a commercial comes on my brain starts fidgeting and saying "I want pudding", "I want to watch something else", "I could be sleeping", "I bet things are more fun anywhere but here." Once the gym-brain fidget starts I can't get it to stop even when the commercial break is over.

I've resorted to bringing a portable DVD player - which does the trick... for now.  I've been bringing TV on DVD, so I know I can watch either a 2 episodes of a good comedy or 1 drama and get through my cardio work out without fidget brain turning on.  Thanks to this, I've been able to get back up to 3 days a week. 

Now the problem is weight training... bored in 3,2,1... ADHD GYM BRAIN ON THE LOOSE.  My brain starts saying "I don't wanna lift that", "I don't wanna move over there", "I don't wanna do pull-ups."

I can't watch DVDs while I'm weight training but moving a lot does nothing to calm my reluctant brain and my brain has memorized 90% of my work-out motivating music on my Mp3 player so I spend half of the time cycling through the music to find something the brain actually wants to hear.

Maybe what I need is a virtual world game...where I'm, I don't know, battling hoards of mutant alien badgers with a 25lb sword for an hour and in the process doing weight training.  Quick.  Someone.  Invent that for me - the gym-brain waits for no one.