I want some chips but I am not hungry. What to do? What to do? As I decide what to do about it, I have this strange internal monologue going on between the part of me that wants the salty yum yums and the part of me that doesn’t want to be a fat little piggy.

The chips would be salty and delicious.
The fat that would be added to your hips-not delicious.

Yet, getting up out of this chair and walking down the stairs is exercise, right? Plus typing this post will help me burn at least 4 calories.
And that still isn’t going to help you burn off the calories from inhaling all those Grandma Utz chips yesterday. You pig. Can’t you say no to chips just for one day??

Mmm. . .salty chips.
Mmm. . .back fat.

Maybe I’ll get some french fries. With ketchup.
But you’re not hungry.

And yet I still want them.
And do you still want your muffin top? Because if you do, by all means, go get some fries.

Maybe I’ll have a muffin. Nope, I want something salty.
You don’t want chips. You are not hungry.

No, I’m not hungry, but I want them.
How about some self esteem? Do you want that?

Does it taste like chips and/or french fries?
Fine, go and eat stuff that’s bad for you and has zero nutritional value-unless you consider going up a size to be nutritional value.

I believe I will.
Pig.

I hate myself.
You should eat something to make you feel better.

Good idea. Feelings are delicious! Especially when they’re covered in salt and ketchup!

How could I forget that it’s St. Patrick’s Day weekend? Hello! Perfect excuse to booze it up and get all hungover. Magical and festive times. My girlfriend, Courtney Flaherty, just invited me to get see her perform with her dance troup on Sunday afternoon at an Irish Ceili. Can’t wait!

Bring on the Irish Car Bombs!

I wonder if this is from the Lord of the Rings extended cut?

Damn, nature, you sexy!

The Brave One

At the coffee shop near my house there is a "community journal" that asks a generic question on a daily basis and invites the coffee shop patrons to answer in participation. The other day the question was "Who do you think will win the Oscar for Best Picture?" to which the lone written answer was Hairspray, a film which wasn't even in the running, which I guess says a lot about my neighborhood. So while I waited for my tea to brew, I decided to flip through the journal to read the previous questions and answers to see if they were equally inspiring. That's when I came across the question "What is the bravest thing you've ever done?" The answers from those participating went something like this:

- Had a kid
- Had a baby
- Went to college
- Bought a car
- Had a baby
- Had a baby
- Had a kid
- Had a baby
- Wore a sleeveless dress
- Had a baby

I instantly felt bad for the obviously fat-armed participant who mustered up the guts to wear a sleeveless dress, because if that was indeed the bravest thing she's ever done then she either has the most boring life ever or mutant shoulders. I suppose it could have been written by a man, and that's where the bravery part comes in. I dunno.

But I was a little confused about why having a kid was suddenly and ubiquitously considered a "brave" thing to do. I can concede that raising a kid can be a lot of work and is in some cases a sincerely selfless act, but I hardly think that succumbing to the innate biological imperative to reproduce - an imperative that 95% of the rest of the population also succumbs to - can be considered "brave". If that's the case, then we may as well hand out medals to everyone who is brave enough to breathe oxygen and walk on two feet.

But then I started to feel judgmental about those self-important babymakers, mostly because I couldn't instantly think of anything I've done that could seriously be considered braver than locking yourself into that lifetime commitment of having a kid. The results after I sat down to write my own bravery list were less than impressive:

- Figured out how to ride the Seattle Metro Bus system
- Walked home drunk through the Seattle ghetto at 3am
- Moved to Seattle by myself
- Approached a celebrity in an Eyeglass Store
- Ate foie gras
- Um... ran a half marathon?

Lame indeed. But what really counts as being "brave" these days anyway? Combat in Iraq? Skydiving? Cold Water Rescue? The Iditarod? If that's what it takes to be considered brave then you can count me out. And in that case, I guess it's a good thing to actively lower the standards for what can and cannot be labeled as a brave act. So let's give it up for those brave babymakers:



Hip Hip Hooray!

Brilliant

M. Night has a new movie coming out and from the looks of it, this may be the biggest comedy of 2008. I think its great that he's decided to go away from his usual thrillers and try to follow in the footsteps of Judd Apatow.I just keep watching this trailer over and over, maybe its a spoof movie like "Meet the Spartans" since Mark Wahlberg sounds like he's reading off of a cue card. What am I saying?! He probably can't read. Hopefully the 5 seconds of "Smell the fart acting" that he does (starting at 1:42) will silence all those people that herald him as the greatest actor of our generation.

Bear with me...I'm on a V-day kick.

I don't pretend to be an expert in many walks of life. Parallel parking, wine and cheese pairings, John Cusack trivia, hypothetical fights between 18th century poets and famous 1980's rockers, these are things I excel in. But you can bet your bottom dollar that just as Brian Adams would kick the crap out of William Wordsmith I am an expert on avoiding all things Valentine's day. (It should be noted that I Googled 18th century poets because if you've ever met me in real life or have ever read this blog before you could probably deduce that I don't know all that much about poetry, I mean I know that words rhyme, sometimes. That sort of rhymed...right? But imagine my delight when I saw that there was a poet named William Wordsmith. WILLIAM WORDSMITH...and he was a poet! Anyone? That just made my day. Who knew history could take time out from its busy schedule of being pretentiously pointless and unbearably tiresome to pencil in some hilarity to its regularly scheduled programming of "Blah Blah Boring" and "...And This Guy Died").

So back to my point: I hate history. Wait that's not it. Let me pop some Ritalin like Popeye pops his spinach (Note to self: Look up pop on an online thesaurus to avoid such a poorly constructed sentence in the future. Also buy milk.)

Valentines day is a day for love, togetherness, and spending endless amounts of money to justify your love for another human being...for some of us. For the rest of us it is a big fat reminder that we are yet again alone and are heading for a lifetime membership of the "Crazy old people with cats club." As snarky and sarcastic as that sentence sounds, I'm not bitter. Weird huh? I know what you are thinking, you're thinking, "Sandy how can you not hate Valentines Day? The holiday that has always found you perpetually alone and the day that came right after your sad breakup that led to you setting the record for most times playing the song, "All out of Love" by Air Supply in a two week period? And to that I reply...hmm. Actually you bring up a very valid point hypothetical question from my alter ego that future psychiatrists will diagnose as a cry for help. But we are not here to talk about me, even though it is my blog and I probably have a mountain of problems we could really get to the core of today...right...helping people. The greater good. Gottcha. Let's do this...list style, because let’s face it, any other style results in about three hundred words that go nowhere near the point. It's the way I roll...

Single People:

How To Deal With...Other Couples: Do you ever see happy couples walking down the street holding hands and sort of wish that a pile of bricks or an Acme anvil (stop watching 1990's cartoons before writing Sandy, this is your last warning) will fall on their heads? Umm... I don't either. Sure these couples look like they are having fun, but remember this; when those couples are off spending romantic nights engaging in tickle fights and acrobatic sex you will have more free time to read a book, catch up on old reruns of Perfect Strangers, and learn a marketable skill (refrigeration repair is a growing industry...I'm just saying). Advantage...Single people.

Chocolate Hearts and Fat Naked Angels with Bows and Arrows Everywhere: Candy makes you fat and Cupid probably has diabetes. Sorry to burst your bubble happy couples. Advantage...Single people and anyone who isn't a menacing historical figment that shoots people with arrows. Arrows kill people Cupid. Rent Robin Hood.

Family Members Asking You About Holiday Plans: Caller ID.

Being Alone: Are you really alone? Think about it. People have friends, pets, Chia Pets, those little digital pets that were all the rage seven years ago, life is good people. Sure you might not have a Valentine this year, well guess what, 89% of all attractive, healthy, and awesome people are single and that is a fact. So cut loose, Footloose, and have a girls night out with all of your friends. Have a few drinks, unwind, and head on down to a neighborhood bar.

Couples:

How To Deal With...SHUT UP AND STOP COMPLAINING.

Have you ever teared up while watching the classic "Say Anything" alone during Valentine's Day 06? Have you? ANSWER ME!!!

Moving on...Worst comes to worst, I'll be your Valentine America. I'm sort of cute looking, I can cook, write, and sort of be your perfect soul mate. If you are a man between the ages of eighteen and sixty seven and you've said to yourself, "If only I could find a great caring, funny, cute gal...but taken down a notch or two" then you are in luck!

Remember, some people use Valentine's Day as a motivational tool to better their life and make some positive changes, that could be you! Or binge drink...either or. Just remember it's never too late to turn it all around. Sure you don't have a Valentine this year but I have a sneaky suspicion that all eight of you that read my blog will have one next year. And if not you can follow the advice my mother always use to give to me before she would tuck me in at night, "Sandy there is always prostitution." Just kidding, love you mom! Oh and remember that William Wordsmith dude I was talking about earlier, well he had an incestuous relationship with his sister and died alone.

Happy Valentine's Day Earth!!!

XOXO Sandy