Unfortunately, this hospital is not equipped to treat stupid.

     So, hey again.  Remember how I said I would blog about my vacation?  Well, this isn't it.  Sorry.  I just had a massively weird day filled with umpteen mishaps that I felt like sharing with the world.  Really, how do this many things happen to one person in one freakin' day?  Perhaps some of you have a theory as to why I'm such a magnet for freak accidents and behaviors...

     Today started out busy. We were all slow-moving this morning, due to a whole 'nother series of catastrophes the night before:  Dom went to poker night, I was coming down with a cold, both kids ended up staying up late, Michael threw a fit about sleeping in his room, and we all ended up going to sleep between 10-11.  Regardless, we were supposed to be down the road by 9 this morning for a neighborhood "60 day weight loss challenge."
     They promised to take my picture, weigh me, calculate my BMI, body fat percentage, and take measurements.  Nowhere did it say ANYTHING about doing jumping jacks and situps until my stomach tried to escape out my ass and throat simultaneously.  And  yet, I started off my day with no breakfast and a trip back to junior high P.E. class.  As if not being able to do 2 full situps in a row wasn't embarrassing enough (in the middle of a crowded room, by the way), once I finished the fitness test...I blacked out. 
    I was getting my measurements done when the nausea hit, and suddenly the scarecrow-esque, waif of a woman taking my measurements was laying me down on the floor and holding my feet in the air and about 10 other trainers were shoving almonds in my face. 

     But the good news is that my body fat percentage and BMI are actually in the healthy range for my age now--despite the fact that I gained about 15 lbs. since the summer.  Apparently I live in a universe where gaining weight makes you not fat any more! That's because I'm old now.  Yay for moving up a bracket on demographics!  I've spent the last decade in the overweight to obese categories, so tonight I decided to celebrate by ordering a pizza and making cookies. 
     Oh, and just in case you were wondering...cookies taste like ass when you leave out vanilla and salt.  I made a batch, baked about 8, and tried to fix the remaining batter by adding the missing ingredients AND MY HAND.  Also, just in case you are ever curious, getting your hand caught between the prongs of an electric mixer won't break it.  But it definitely hurts.  Also, staring at the machine in disbelief will not magically imbue you with the Jedi mind powers to turn it off.  That's what the switch is for. 

So, seriously guys...Am I stupid now?  Because this all sounds like stuff that happens to idiots.  Also, my neighbors dog ran smack into Michael's knee today and bashed in it's front teeth.  I can't even begin to make this shit up. 

Today's subject line quote is The Big Bang Theory (2007 TV Series)
Episode: The Peanut Reaction (2008).

I'm on vacation. Social convention dictates that I let my hair down at a local watering hole. Social convention is stupid.

Happy New Year, visitors of the interwebs!  As some of you might recall, I wrote an open letter to 2012 last December, pleading that the year would not be as chaotic and assholish as the one before it.  If the sparsity of posts in the last 12 months is any indication, things have been quite calm.  Things are much more laid back on the West coast, I suppose.

No matter what the reason, we lived the hell out of this last year!  And to bring it to a close, our family took a vacation of historic magnitude.  Apparently saving all the fun we forgot to have in the previous years, and tried to use it all up in the 3 weeks surrounding Christmas.  By the time we got home, I was sick of fun.  I hate fun now.  I just want to sit on the couch and cry profusely while watching episodes of Nova on PBS; that's how much we maxed out the merriment.  The balance of  happiness and depression have warped into one confusing ball of emotion, who wants to eat all day.  Oh yeah, I got fat for Christmas.  Worth every gram, though.

Now I'm tasked with how to even present all this epic vacationary.  I now declare that a word, meaning "a written explanation or account of a vacation;  a combination of the words vacation, dictionary, and stationary."  It's practically a part time job, except for monetary gain.  Just the part where I get to log 20 hours or so into entertaining you all with hilarity and beautiful phrasing...and shit.

So here's the plan.  I'm going to do this in installments.  There will be no time-frame, because that's just mean.  It'd be mean of me to promise bloggity goodness with a specific deadline because, let's be honest, it'd be a total lie.  Also, it would be cruel of you to force me into such standards in the first place.  Let's be mutually respectful here.  As an artist, you shouldn't rush me.  The end product will just reek of mediocrity and word vomit.  Nobody wants crappy blog stains on the internet.

Unfortunately, today isn't an installment-type day.  I have peanut butter on my sweatpants and a messy bun in my hair that both need attention before I leave to take Michael to swim lessons.  I have some dignity, I won't wear food covered clothing, gross hair, AND be fat out in public.  I have to draw the line somewhere.  Right?  Maybe not.  Either way, no more blogs today.

Today's subject line quote is from The Big Bang Theory (2007 TV Series), Episode: The Vacation Solution (2012).