Whereas, Procrastination Always Pays Off NOW

Uh oh. It's the dreaded...AFTERNOON POST.

I have so much to do, and I cannot face ANY of it. Unfortunately, I've already read all the posts in my Google Reader, and checked my email, and dicked around on Facebook, and had a snack (Roasted Garlic Triscuits, thx for asking), so...lucky you.

Well then. What do I have to report? You haven't seen any pictures of my kid lately, eh? Well, that's because it turns out I don't TAKE any pictures of my kid, if left to my own devices! HAHA! Jokes on you! Slash her!

Oh, fine. Here you go.

I don't know what titan of industry came up with this idea, but let's all give THAT GUY the sarcastic slow clap, shall we? Good luck bringing your kid to shop at the neighborhood GhettoMart after she's had a whiff of the absolute power behind one of these babies. Not to mention the joy and complete lack of humiliation you will feel pushing it to the register after your kid abandons it in the salty snacks aisle, pissed off that you won't let her slam dunk a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

PS-I KNOW, the place is lit up like a goddamned CHRISTMAS TREE, isn't it? It's like we grocery shop at the new Cowboys stadium or some shit! Also, don't you kind of want to strap on a pair of rollerblades and tear ass through there? Just me? OKAY THEN.

Fun Fact Friday

• We just got our tax statement from Ava's daycare, and in 2008 we paid over $12,000 for childcare. GOOD TIMES. I know it's hard to find information online about childcare costs, so there you go. PSA. I live in a place with one of the lowest costs of living of any major US city, and I pay a thousand(ish) dollars a month for someone to watch my kid. I mean, *I* wouldn't watch YOUR kid for that. I'm just sayin.
  
  
• On the plus side, turns out Ava knows how to hold a scissors and cut paper. This is WEIRD, right? She's TWO. Creepy. I picture them practicing it all day, Happy Gilmore-style. Good news kids! Arts and crafts time has been extended by THREE HOURS today!
  
  
• My aversion to the word "panties" is really screwing me over on the whole potty training thing. Turns out it's a lot easier for a toddler to say than "underwear". TOO BAD.
  
  
• I don't really care about potty training. Like, at all.
  
  
• Things I DO care about, at the moment: coffee, wine, LOST*, the perfect shade of purple nail polish, this blog, studying pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon in US Weekly to see if he's really into her, or if I still have a chance.
  
  
• *If Kate ends up with Jack and not Sawyer, then I have wasted the last five years of my life on that show. I hate Jack. True story.

Inauguration: BUZZKILL EDITION

Did you guys know that you can't spellcheck post titles? Not that I suffered from the Nervous Tummy trying to spell "inauguration" or anything. Just FYI. (My usual spelling tactic of identifying the root word got me nowhere in a hurry. The root word of "inauguration" is..."inaugurate". That is an EMBARRASMENT to the concept of root words. Not. Helpful.)

So. The, uh, DEALIO today (root word: DEAL! Yay!). It's exciting and awesome and all that, but I'm feeling sort of...left out. First of all, I'm in TEXAS, a place where MLK Jr. Day coincides with Confederate Effing HEROES Day, which both happen to be STATE HOLIDAYS.

In addition to the whole Texas thing, I also work in an extremely conservative environment. It's not, like, the Southern Baptist Convention or the Republican Party HQ or whatever, but it might as well be. Today is just another reminder that I've chosen (and believe me haters, I know it is my choice) to live and work in a place where I cannot always be myself.

And I know some of you are thinking, "Tess! You should ALWAYS be yourself! Fuck the haters! Rah rah individualism!". And I agree, in a private setting, or among friends, and certainly I don't hide my flaming liberalism in that context, although some of you are wishing I would START. But at work, I have to be diplomatic and situationally appropriate in order to be successful, and that means SHUTTING IT or politely changing the subject (but mostly SHUTTING IT), if you are me.

So, I'll be at SPIN CLASS today during the festivities, and I'll be catching up on my CNN after work (true story: we only get FOX EFFING NEWS here. We used to get CNN and PEOPLE COMPLAINED). But, you know, I'll be there IN SPIRIT.


P.S.-this reminds me of the Moral Dilemma I faced just before the election, when 7-11 was running a promotion in which they stocked only (blue) Obama or (red) McCain coffee cups. Gah! It was like Sophie's Choice! I spent the entire day with my Terrorist Coffee hidden behind my computer speakers. Right beside my naked picture of Jon Stewart.*

*SPEAKING of situationally inappropriate, PLEASE TELL ME one or more of you saw that episode of HBO's Real Sex where that lady gave herself orgasms by looking at a picture of Stephen Colbert. Because it's going to be really AWK if I am the only one who thought that was WICKED HILARIOUS. I mean, how long has she been WORKING on that?

Fun Fact Friday!

• Despite the impression I gave yesterday, I'm not a TOTAL heathen. In fact, sometimes? At work? I listen to HYMNS. True story. What? It has a calming effect. My favorites at the moment: Carrie Underwood sings How Great Thou Art and Chris Tomlin sings Amazing Grace.
  
  
• I have a great aunt who is a nun
  
  
• My sister and I used to play "church" when we were little kids. We would play hymns on the piano, and make "communion" by cutting bread with milk jug caps and squishing it down.
  
  
• The last time we went to mass together, we used our phones to update our Facebook status to "Tess and Mandy are in church. JESUS LOVES FACEBOOK!"
  
  
• And loggged on to the catholicsingles.com website featured on the back of the church bulletin
  
  
• If you think I'm funny, you should meet my sister
  
  
• One of the best books I read last year was Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal
  
  
• The best book I've read so far this year is The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Buy My Jesus-Approved Home!

So, I'm selling my house. I know, LUCKY YOU. This should be good, right?

My realtor even had a professional "stager" come in to make the place look...presentable, or whatever. TEXAS STYLE, of course. Basically, the idea is to make it look like someone ELSE lives there. Someone...TEXAN.

Now. In case you were wondering, the first thing your average Texas Home Stager does is replace all of the of the photos of you at dive bars drinking tall boys (pretty Texan if you ask me BUT I DIGRESS) with THESE:GIANT CROSSES. So awesome. I'm glad I've been keeping up on my smoke detector maintenance, I'll tell you that much. Just in case we experience some kind of...FLAME BURSTING sitch.

Also, I had to display the "I Can't Stand Your Bullshit" cross-stitch type(little)a made me considerably less prominently. Le sigh. HATERS.

FYI, the stager did let me keep the Crazy Baptist University flag in the office. As if to say, "Hey! Just wanted to let you know that this home is owned by someone with the full backing of the Southern Baptist Convention!". Which is true, of course. Well. Ish. Except for the drinking. And the dancing. And the, uh,...actually, you know what? If the the SBC has some kind of...no-fly list or similar, there's a pretty good chance I'm on it. Oh, CBU. Pro Ecclesia, Pro Texana; your motto AND MINE.

Anyway, I had my first showing last night, before I got home. AAAND, I can already tell this is going to give me a complex. All afternoon, I couldn't stop thinking of any number of truly horrifying things waiting to be discovered, and wondering just HOW DEEP these clowns are going to be digging. GAH! What if they open the fridge? Or the medicine cabinet? Or the NIGHTSTAND DRAWERS?

Well, they get what they get if that happens. I'm just sayin. Don't come running to me in six months when the lambs are still screaming.

FAIL: A Picture Essay, Live From My Office

Wardrobe Fail: This shirt makes me look like a fucking COBRA. Do not try to talk me out of it. SSSSSSSSSS!

Friendship Fail: Tube Map playing cards I bought for Artemisia when I was in London. FIVE MONTHS AGO. Also, they have been chewed on BY MY DOGS.

Mental Health Fail: One of the many notepads in my office, victimized by my disgusting neurotic "page fluffing" habit.

Motivation Fail: Massive pile of items to be filed, sitting juuuuuust outside the ACTUAL FILING CABINET

Minimalism Fail: Beverage receptacle graveyard

And this is just the stuff IN MY OFFICE, you guys. Imagine the opportunities for failure in my house, or (oh god) IN MY CAR.

Words And/Or Phrases That Give Me The Heebs

• Pampered
• Verbal Diarrhea
• Tits Up
• Gal
• Moist
• Splurge
• Flick
• Panties

Alrighty. Good talk.

Edited to add:

• Making love (ICK. WORD, Jonna)

On A Lighter, And Much Less Defensive Note

So, I was shopping for an outfit for a Thing on Saturday, and I came across THIS:




It's...AN ADULT ONESIE! I KNOW! I was so delirious with glee I did a little dance. Also, you're lucky my BatPhone was dead, because about half of you almost got a picture mail of this bad boy, live from Forever 21.

I'll say that it probably functions as a mean chastity belt though. Good luck with that, gentlemen. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

The Way Things Are

Man, I TOLD you guys not to get squirrelly about the Boston thing!

Look. Obviously, there's a lot more to the equation than "chowdah" and "guys with east coast accents", although both of those things are tasty and delicious, especially that second one.

Clearly what I wrote is a dramatic oversimplification, although I'm not sure why you're SURPRISED. In fact, that sounds like a pretty good tagline for this blog, if not this LIFE, now that I think of it.

True(ish) Story: A Dramatic Oversimplification.

Anyway. All of your points are well taken, and things I've thought of too, of course. But at the risk of sounding defensive, I do want to be honest about The Way Things Are:

Fact: When you have a child, you can no longer do whatever you feel like doing, wherever you feel like doing it. And when your child's father is in her life, which is a GOOD thing, you can never, EVER completely get away from that person, geographically or otherwise. I cannot just divorce Carlos and live wherever I want, hoping he'll follow me for Ava's sake. For the next 15ish years, the two of us need to agree on a place to live.

Fact: This is complicated in our case, since we are from two different areas of the country, and currently live in a THIRD area. At the moment, the only two places we are BOTH willing to live are Dallas or Boston.

Fact: I am willing to live in Boston, even though I am not from there and have never lived there before. Many people seem to think I'm deluding myself about this. I'm not. It's a great city, and I have always had a strong regional preference for the east coast. I know how much it will cost to live there, and what the weather is like, and about "Massholes" and all that. I am still willing to live there.

Fact: Moving to Boston appears to benefit Carlos more than it benefits me. It might even make him *gasp* HAPPY. This alone is not a reason not to do something. That is called SPITE. Also, if you think his (purely theoretical, since it will never happen) happiness (HELLO BITTER!) does not benefit me, you are a total SKIMMAH.

Fact: Of the two options, Boston is the only one that allows Ava to be close to her family. This benefits me as well, in the form of HELP with the whole "being a single mother with no family" thing. I get along well with Carlos's family. In fact, if pressed after several cocktails, you might even find they have a slight PREFERENCE for me. Heh.

Fact: I am not afraid to move somewhere where I don't know anyone. I did it before, when I moved to Texas 13 years ago. The fact that other people would not do something like this does not affect my decision. When I start to drill down on WHY they would not do it, it always (ALWAYS) boils down to fear, and/or hassle. Neither of these things really belong in the decision-making equation.

Fact: I agree that in the end, the only way to solve the equation is with The Gut. I'm just going to lay it all out there and say that my gut/inner voice/higher power voice/whatevs tells me that moving to Boston is the right thing to do, and that there is something good waiting for me there. I know this is disappointing to a lot of people. The good thing about my situation is, I don't much care. Ignoring The Gut and worrying about disappointing other people is what got me into this mess in the first place.

So. I Am The One I've Been Waiting For, and all that.

Whew. Well, this is awkward. If you made it this far, hearty congrats, really. I honestly just wanted to write this so I could laminate it and have handouts made up for all of the naysayers. Uh, reading it back I might have to work on a Cliff Notes edition. Either that, or just start tasing everyone who asks me, and hope eventually word gets out.

For Full Credit, Show Your Work

I've been thinking a lot about something Swistle wrote the other day:

"As we math geniuses know, if something is present on both sides of an equation, you can strike it out."

WHOA. Is it just me, or is this a powerful decision-making tool? Or perhaps *I* am the decision-making tool. Ahem.

Anyway. Don't get all SQUIRRELLY on me, but let's say X=staying in Texas, and Y=moving to Boston:

X(lonely)(sad)(afraid)(no family)=Y(lonely)(sad)(afraid)(no family)(CHOWDAH)

Algebraically, that reduces to:

X=Y(CHOWDAH)

And therefore:

Y=X/(CHOWDAH)

Are you with me? Y>X.

Here are the terms that do NOT appear when solving for Y: lonely, sad, afraid, and no family. I'm going to be experiencing those things either way. I think I'm looking especially at AFRAID here. Even if it DIDN'T appear on each side of the equation, which it DOES, I'm trying to make the choice to assign it a value of ONE.

And since multiplying anything times one does not change its value (you: THANKS FOR THAT), I am not going to be solving my life equation based on fear. Done and DONE.

Q.E.D.

Stuff...and Stuff

So, we have a few housekeeping-type issues festering here (EW!), don't we?

1) At some point, I'm going to need pseudonyms for the artists formerly known as AD and BR. Nothing cutesy, although Hellbeast and The Steamrollah ARE tempting. I'm thinking I'll go with Carlos for BR, which is the name my boss has called him FOR YEARS, despite the fact that it bears NO RESEMBLANCE to his real name. But you know those Fake Hispanics. They all look the same. And have the same 3 or 4 names, so tomato/tomahto.

What of AD, though? I'm tempted to just use her real name, which most of you KNOW ANYWAY GOD THIS IS BEATING ME DOWN. Sigh. I like the middle name thing, but her middle name is considerably less popular than her first name, and also happens to be the name of a relative, so...that doesn't really feel right either. I dunno. This is already more thinking than I'm prepared to do on the topic. I'm taking suggestions, is what I'm getting at. Who knows, there could be a certain calculator in it for ya.

2) Facebook. I'm on it. I'm not going to link to this blog from there, because I don't want my MOM and other shady-type characters reading, but I would be pleased and honored to be YOUR Facebook friend, if you are so inclined. Just in case, for example, you are collecting Facebook friends in a slightly/incredibly pitiful attempt to accumulate more than your ex-boyfriend's current wife. Oh wait. That's me.

(You: *concerned look*)

Oh shut up. Everyone knows your number of Facebook friends is directly proportional to your worth as a person.

In Lieu of a Strongly Worded Letter to the BBB

PSA: If any of you, like me, now find yourselves mildly OBSESSED with procuring an ACTUAL chocolate "calculator" (as opposed to a "chocolate" calculator)(YOU GOT THAT? Jesus. If I'm not careful, I'm going to end up on the "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks) may I present THIS:

A MOLD. So you can make your OWN edible calculators, en masse! Go nuts! Also, FYI, you can use the mold for soap, plaster, and...wait for it...CEMENT.

Because the only thing more worthless than a calculator that pretends to be chocolate is a HUNK OF CALCULATOR-ESQUE CEMENT. Thank god for those flat-rate postal boxes. I know a few people who are going to have some new stepping stones in their gardens this spring.

Well Played, 7-11. Well Played.

Alternate title: READING COMPREHENSION FAIL, Part 1 of ??

So, let's just say that you, a savvy 7-11 consumer, came across THIS little gem at the checkout counter this morning:
Let's also assume, just for argument's sake, that you are basically a skimmer of the Highest Order, especially at 7 am, before you have had coffee, and while you are at the head of a long checkout line, which gives you the nervous tummy in the first place due to your Irrational Consumer Guilt.

You would totally impulse purchase this "Chocolate Calculator" to bring back to the office, because 1) Chocolate! Yay! and 2) In shape of calculator! Am boss in office full of accountants! Hilarity shall ensue!

RIGHT?

And THEN, after getting back to your desk and preparing to cement your World's Most Rad Boss title, you might read the fine print on this thing, which cryptically says, "Looks and smells* like sweet chocolate!".

And you might start feeling a little nervous, and thinking to yourself that you don't really like where this is going. But you would persevere, keeping hope alive right up until the moment when you realize that your delicious treat can give you Pi to 7 decimal places, and is not so much "chocolate" as it is A REAL FUCKING CALCULATOR.

And then, as you hung your head and tried to quell the overwhelming urge to punch yourself in the face, you might wonder whether you should EVER be allowed to buy ANYTHING without a chaperone, preferably one who is able to read at a third-grade level. AM I RIGHT?

JUST ME? OKAY THEN!

*Hell NO, I'm not going to go around HUFFING it to see if it really smells like chocolate. This story is humiliating enough as it is.

Preferably Cross-Eyed and/or Hare-lipped

Also, I forgot to mention that I have settled on a New Year's Resolution, and it is this: No More Hot Guys.

I think we can all agree I've had spotty success with this demographic, and by "spotty success" I mean "complete and epic failure". Nothing but trouble. And yet. There I am, all "THANK YOU SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER?". Gah.

Plus, I'm thinking that "sorry, I don't date hot guys" could be the best pick-up line EVER. GENIUS. I should write that down. (DONE).

Good News/Bad News

Well, I don't know about you guys, but I would like to VIGOROUSLY SHAKE OFF the holidays like a giant, wet DOG. Oof. That sucked.

Oh, and just FYI, if you are in a certain kind of Mood, such as the type that might cause you to pen one of the most pathetic blog posts KNOWN TO MAN, do you know what movie you should probably take a pass on? Seven Pounds, featuring the typically adorable and delicious Will Smith. I am JUST SAYING.

Tess, exiting the theater: Cheery. I feel SO MUCH BETTER now.
Tess's sister: RIGHT? We should have seen the one where the fucking DOG DIES.
Tess: *pitiful staring off into space*
Tess's sister: Well, time for a cocktail.

ANYWAY! I'm off task, AS USUAL, when what I really wanted to talk about is the fact that this is the first Monday of the new year, and you know what that means! HEALTH KICK SEASON! AIEE!!!

First, here are some of the health kick shows that wil be clogging my DVR this month:

Ruby-I love this show. It could be my favorite health kick show EVAH, no lie. I want to be besties with Ruby. She says "what the helicopter" instead of WHAT THE HELL! Come on. That is awesome.

Dietribe-First of all, why has no one thought of this title for a health kick show before? The best the network execs typically come up with is shit like "The Biggest Loser" and "I Lost It!". Gah. Anyway, this one hasn't started yet (it starts TONIGHT), and I think it stars a group of friends and yadda yadda, but more importantly, it stars THESE ARMS:
Incidentally, the website for this show practically begs you to email Arms McGee and "ASK JESSIE ANYTHING!". Oh boy. I'd love to be the intern sifting through THAT inbox.

Discovery Health National Body Challenge-This again. I don't know what to say, other than that it's, like, TRADITION at this point? I dunno. There's always some sad sack who whips him or herself into a Regulation Hottie, and you know how I love that crap.

So, how are you guys celebrating today? As always, if you are on a health kick this year and are going to be writing about it, post a link in the comments, STAT. Bonus points if it includes some kind of inadvisable slash INSANE plan, such as a 40-day juice fast or similar (OH PLEASE GOD).

Edited to add: Someone brought a CAKE to the office this morning. On First Monday! WHO DOES THAT? Pull your head out of your ass, Passive Aggressive Cake Lady!