Exercise, humor, self-help

The Procrastination Of Miserability

Did someone mention my Pegacorn is waiting?

I know. Two posts in one week about happiness. How to find it. How to have it. How to keep it.  I’m sick to my stomach of it too. Regardless, here it goes…

There are bad moments that set you back a few hours and then there’s the miserable dugout. Swing batter batter, swing! The miserable dugout is a place where the miserable like to be benched. Yes, like a baseball dugout. Good job connecting the dots so quickly. I’m a positive person. Snarky as all hell but 99% of the time, a smiling force to be reckoned with. I won’t spend much time over-analyzing things beyond my control because… well, you can’t control everything. And I’m too lazy to bother. Or rather, I’ve just got better things to do with my fucking time. Such language. Yes, to drive the point home. It’s called passion.  If spending time obsessing over the “bad” things in life sound like something you can’t shake I’ve come up with some ideas to help you hop a ride on a pegacorn to cloud town!




In 4 Easy Steps

1. The Proclomation Adaptation. Say it loud and say it proud; but don’t say it in public. You’ll just look crazy. Look in the mirror and say, “Self, You’re fucking spectacular!” Give a flip of the hair, toss on a great pair of heels and skidaddle out the door to soak up the day. EVerything is better if you get ready for your day. Even when I’m in my office-home-atorium all day, I shower, put on lip gloss and act like I’m ready to be amongst the living. No, nobody sees the lip gloss but me. But it’s pretty and I like it.

2. Bathtime Candelabra. I’m a bath girl. Showers always make me feel like I’m in a rush to be wet. It makes me anxious. So, like clockwork, I run a bath after my yoga workout (yes punk ass, I’m still strugging to keep that going), and light a candle or two (five, I light five) and casually suds up. It’s relaxing and I’m accomplishing, I don’t know, getting clean or soemthing. Sometimes I will pop open a book; but the last time I did that it fell from my hands and drowned.

3. Workout Weenie. I hate to say it but it’s true. Working out really does make you feel better. Weenie. Quiet. It releases endorphins throughout your body, clears your head, and gives you more energy. This step sounds like a lecture. Hush. Stop making excuses and just do it. You sure? I’m sensing… aggression? Pay attention. You won’t get motivated to workout until you take action and actually workout. Stop the lies! Sometimes I can barely muster the energy to yoga. I know, who’da thunk it? You’re just kickin it, in downward dog or some shit and even that’s too exhausting to roll yourself off the sofa. I hear a riddle happening. Yeah. But I found that since I added working out regularly to my schedule, as long as I just go through the motion of getting there, youtubing my session and stay committed to just five measely minutes… Before I know it, twenty minutes has passed! Which boosts my ego and makes me want to dress cute! And hey, on my off days, just turning on the television and putting on some booty short wearing bitch is all I can get through. And I’m proud of myself on those days too.

4. PROCRASTINATE! Last but not least, procrastinate! Procrastinate the urge to be unhappy like we procrastinate doing the laundry! Oh, laundry stinks. Or the dishes! Blah, even worse. Give a middle finger salute to the meloncholy fairy (oh my). Tell that winged nut job that you’ll get to her later, and you just received a phone call emergency to chase butterflies. Hello? Oh I have butterflies to chase? Hey, winged nut job? I gotta go. Have you seen my pegacorn? Let yourself put off the heavy heart nonsense for another day and you’re likely to find you forgot about what was lurking to ruin your day to begin with. Hmm.. now where did I put that? Oh well, must not have been important.  This will be the one place in your life where procrastination can actually be beneficial!

The Sickness Clause
Back away from the cocktail shrimp… #choosehappy

The moral of the story is, I absorb energy. What you say? Listen, we all do. Which sounds a little bonkers; but, seriously, bad attitudes are contagious! And I dont need the flu. Ever notice when you’re in a group of people and there always that one person that starts the gravy train of sadness, making everyone a passenger ready to leave the station? Choo! Choo! All aboard to sappy town! Said partygoers will either get on that tear-dropping bandwagon or look for the nearest exit and grab a parachute. Or jump at 30, 000 feet without one. Belly flopping onto the earth is probably less paintful anyway. It’s one thing to make a sarcastic comment, illicit some laughter and change subjects; it’s surely another to drag down the rest of the boaters with the anchor of sorrow.  I find it best to pretend my phone rang and make a leap for the cocktail shrimp. Besides, I don’t want their gloom decending upon my appetizer. It would rreally ruin the whole thing. It’s cold shrimp! With cocktail sauce! Nobody sees the joy here? Fine. I quit.


DISCLAIMER: Entertainment purposes only. Unless you accidentally drown your book in the bathtub. Which is really just a soppy mess when it’s all said and done. And difficult to read.


humor, self-help

How-To Laugh (When You’re Crying)

IMG_0167This sentiment is a testament to the “fake it til  you make it” crowd. I don’t mean ‘dress for the job you want, not the job you have’ reference. Although, that is a good one; that does fit into this category. Nonetheless, isn’t going to apply here, so toss it from your dome. Bye bye. This is for when you feel like shit and want to hide under a rock with the super size bottle of vino and a Kleenex 3-pack.

The thought occured to me when I was being suffocated, in the depths of my sofa cushions. Did I mention I finally paid it off? The pay-as-you-go couch plan is genius. Anyway, I was having a bad day -which was made worse by some conflicting persons in my circle -not their fault, they’re male- and I realized after twelve hours of uncontrollable sobbing… I needed to just, stop sobbing. Oh, and to stop letting him help. So, I came up with this nifty how-to list to help anyone else out there who’s at their wits end. With everything.



1. THROW OUT OLD CRAP. The most effective way for me to kick the blues is to just dump old shit that’s -proverbially & sometimes spacially- weighing me down. This means a stack of CDs you’re not listening to–WAIT. Does anyone listen to CDs anymore? Seriously, let it go. Burn it to your iLibrary and toss that plastic. Or sell it at a yard sale to a cat lady stuck in her Chumbawamba concert tee.

2. REARRANGE THE ROOM. Instead of yelling off your balcony at the dumbasses next door to you about their cigarettes and loud music because they’re interrupting your good time crying time… Consider giving your living a space a mini-makeover. Move the nightstand by the dishwasher. Put the saucepan in the closet. You know, go wild. Plus, you can make a game out of this by dragging around your bottle of fermented grapes until you’re disoriented and bumping into Kleenex boxes.

3. LAUGH ALREADY! Get silly. Start arguments with your boyfriends about pickle jars losing their oomph. Pull a prank on your bestie by telling her The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy WAS a great movie. It wasn’t. Press the point that it was nothing like the book and she’ll love it. She won’t love it and the book was better. The movie? Eh. Tell her wearing a prom dress and a tiara will make the experience much more memorable. And to selfie that mess.


DISCLAIMER: Entertainment value only. But if you throw peas out a window, I’d try that too.



humor, Uncategorized

The Art of the Antsy-Pants

Is pacing considered being “still?”

I love to read. Obviously. Otherwise this writing thing would be more awkward than it normally is… for me. And you. And, possibly, others. Uncomfortable AND terrible grammar? Holy moly. Bring it on! It be a two-fer!
Im here for you, people. And you love it. Well, at least, I love it… like I love cheese. Random connection. And if you know how deep my love affair with cheese goes, then you’d understand how REAL that love is.

That being -unnecessarily-said, I started reading The Art of Stillness by Pico Iyer…. Well, kind of. Which I knew would be a good read; However, I couldn’t seem to dust off my self-starter wand and open the damn thing up. Stop fidgeting. I can’t. I tried. I mean, I had read the forward. And the book cover. But, I don’t think that counted as, actual reading.  Finding the stillness inside of me to sit down and read about being still had been challenging.

 Fast forward to last night, where I actually had enough Red Bull to open this little beastly book.  Yay! Got my wings! It starts off with the author talking about the passage to nowhere. I already feel like I spin my wheels on a daily basis, so I skipped ahead to Chapter Two: The Charting of Stillness. Probably my favorite section of the book actually. It covered the path of how sitting still can be like a battlefield. Who me? Impatient? Restless? I can relate. I’m very chatty in yoga class. Hush. Sssshhh. So I skipped past the next three chapters. Blah. Blah. Blah. Something about being alone in the dark. Blah Blah. Blah. Using stillness when it’s needed most. Yadah. Yadah. Ugh. I’m so antsy. Give me something I can use, Mr. Pico!

Ah, finally… Chapter Six: Coming Back Home. I’m back from nowhere! Oh thank goodness. My pantaloons were starting to chafe. Now I’m starting to think and analyze too much. Not sure what this tranquility lesson will do for you. But, rallying a motionlessness in my britches, only helps me nit-pick everything.  Or anything. Flipping over my thought tables. Causing vessles to pop. This book was actually a good read; But, for me? All it did was agitate my antsy-pants.