Leave it to the folks at Wait Wait Don't Tell Me...

http://www.npr.org/blogs/waitwait/2010/02/_japans_takahiko_kozuka.html

My personal favorite: "That's how she knew she should be a skater, Peter."

Tonight I went to the grocery store determined to only buy healthy foods. I grasped my grocery list in hand, which was mostly comprised of ingredients from "200 meals under 200 calories" (or something like that)

I was so excited for this new eating healthy venture I was about to embark on. This was going to be a new journey for me, and one I was really looking forward to. That is, until I realized just how expensive eating healthy was going to be.

While I buy fruit and vegetables during most of my trips to the food store, the main staple on my shopping list is always Diet Coke. Diet Coke to me is what methamphetamine is to crystal meth addicts. (sidenote: did you know "nazi dope" is slang for methampetamine? learn something new everyday) And when I say I buy fruit and vegetables on most of my food shopping extravaganzas, I mean I purchase one orange and an onion, so imagine my surprise when I actually made my way to the produce section...

Fruits and vegetables are expensive! $1.29 for one grapefruit? The nerve! $2.99 for a pound of red peppers? The horror! I won't even mention to you the price of asparagus - I thought it was a misprint. I was in shock. I quickly started doing the math in my head, aka pulled out my iphone and used the calculator. So I decided to carefully select a small amount of fresh foods. They go bad so fast there is no way I'm wasting my money on this nonsense. I ended up with 2 grapefruits, strawberries, green peppers and an onion. I should mention I really like onions.

As I made my way over to dairy, I picked up Laughing Cow Low Fat Cheese. Do you know how much cheese cost? $7! Do you know how much ramen I could buy with that? A LOT.

The rest of my shopping trip was a blur, I no longer wanted to think about the obscene amount I was spending on groceries (my average grocery bill: $25 every 2 weeks)

When I got home and started putting away the groceries, I felt HEALTHY. As if being in close proximity to all the granola and bran cereal instantly created a leaner, lovelier me.

This whole healthy eating thing is going to hurt my pocketbook, but it may just be worth it in the long run.

Let's just hope I can stick with it. I have strong reason to believe that my prefrontal cortext never fully developed. My reasoning for this belief: I have very little will power. Meaning: if someone happens to be around me that is not partaking in healthy eating I quickly could be swayed to eating french fries even if I'm not hungry. If I smell food I have to eat. It's sorta a problem.

Here's to hoping my prefrontal cortext will prove me wrong. If it does, I have a little pair of black shorts that are dying to make it out my closet.

America the Beautiful

Let me first begin by saying how much I love all (most) things British. I could live on Fish and Chips and Maynards Wine Gums for the rest of my life, and I did when I interned in London. Oh, and how could I forget Hob Knobs? I LOVE Hob Knobs! I would do a dance for Hob Knobs. And the Beatles, who doesn't love the Beatles? But above all these wonderful British concoctions is my adulation for British obscure researches. Injury due to biscuit study anyone? (hands down my favorite British study) Oh, or the one they wanted to use men who looked at porn versus men who didn't look at porn to determine the ratio of men who view porn to the men who don't view porn . The result? They could not find any men that didn't watch porn. Their conclusion? Everyone watches porn! These people are genius I tell you.

So when I discovered a recent British poll on Telegraph naming the "best looking nations" according to a recent poll I immediately clicked on it. And guess what nation is number 1 according to "5,000 globe-trotting Brits"?

Give up?

America!

As everything else in the country continues to go to shit Americans can find solace in knowing British world travelers find our people to be very pleasing to the eye. I know I'm going to sleep better at night.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/7250038/Americans-are-most-attractive-people-in-the-world-poll-finds.html

Do the Mardi Gras Mambo

While beer, boobs, and beads are all great, (not so much the boobs) I never got into Mardi Gras as much as some of my friends. The whole standing outside for hours on end just to watch some floats go by and catch some beads, or in my case, get hit with beads, (I have horrible hand-eye coordination made only worse by copious amounts of booze) was never that appealing. You better believe this didn’t stop me from participating, but if I missed a parade it was no big deal, there would be another.

I never made it to Zulu, never caught a shoe at Muses, and never dressed up and to be honest, I didn’t really care. It’s not until 2 years after my last Mardi Gras do I truly miss it. Maybe it’s the terrible weather we’re having or maybe it’s the Saints winning the Superbowl, but more than ever I wish I was at Mardi Gras leaving a parade with a neckful of beads.

Speaking of beads...

somewhere out there someone knows why people go so crazy over a strand of plastic bobbles. I'm sure some British institution did a study on the effects Mardi Gras beads have on people. The Brits are always doing some crazy study, like the one they did that showed 1 out of 10 people have been injured eating a biscuit. Really? A biscuit?

Back to the beads…People react (myself included) to these Chinese manufactured trinkets like Pippi does when I hold up her squeaky toy. “Ooo..is that for me? Are you going to throw that to me? I want it! I want it!”

Over my Mardi Gras years I accumulated mountains of beads and for what? Yea, they were great when I was drunk but then sobriety sets in and I’m stuck with all these damn beads.

Okay, I didn't really want this turn into a bead rant, so back to missing Mardi Gras...

I miss packing up coolers and backpacks with beer and trekking down St Charles to find a prime location. I miss dancing to the beat of one of the marching band's drums. I miss the food. God, how I miss the food. I'm tempted to move back to the Big Easy for jambalaya alone. But most of all I miss the feeling of a community. Mardi Gras knows no strangers. It's not uncommon to hold hands and dance in the streets with an unfamiliar face or even be invited into a fellow parade goers home to use the bathroom. Heck, a man even left his 7 year old son with my friends and I once so that he could go to the bathroom. (something I woulnd't recommend) During Mardi Gras everyone's family.

Thanks to nola.com I am able to watch the parades. How awesome is that? I asked my roommate if she would stand behind my computer and throw me beads. You know, to get more of the Mardi Gras feel. She rolled her eyes and graciously declined my request. So instead, I watched Breesus reign over Bacchus singing Mardi Gras Mambo to myself.

While I am a thousand miles away, tomorrow I will experience my first Zulu (once again, thanks nola.com) I will wear some beads and eat some king cake. It may not be the Mardi Gras I miss, but it will have to do until next year.

Laissez le bon temps rouler

Yay for Blogging!

It took all the strength I could muster not to start out with "Dear Diary."

Shit, I still sorta did anyways. Oh well.

After much thought (not much thought, the idea came to me about an hour ago) I decided now is the time to start blogging for no other reason than I have nothing better to do at 11 pm on a Sunday and for the hopes that I will stop talking to myself in public.

The talking in public started recently, and it only seems to happen when I walk Pippi. This evening I caught myself thinking aloud about a movie (Precious) I wanted to add to my Netflix queue. While talking to myself usually doesn't bother me, doing it in public warrants a certain level of craziness, and I don't want to be viewed as the crazy lady with the dog. I am too young for that. Maybe in 20 years.

Ok, five.

"Thinking aloud" sounds a lot better than "talking to yourself".

So, a little about myself. I am not really sure why I am going to bother with a bio. it is safe to say I will be the only one reading this, but what the hell, here it goes:

I live in the DC Metro area (aka Northern VA) I work for a company that I absolutely adore, and they absolutely adore me. (At least I think they do. Fingers crossed.) I won't say much about work, though, because it's always on those "Easy Ways to Lose Your Job" lists, and since I am not in the mood for job hunting, work will be a closed book.

I am a recent adult, and I love it (most of the time). I get great satisfaction in being able to pay my own bills. That sounds a little strange, I know. Grant it, this gratification is quickly filled with panic. Panic because the realization immediately sets in that once those bills clear I will be broke. You would think after nearly two years of this whole paying bills thing I would get used to it, but alas I have not. At least I have that one moment, and I will continue to grip on to that.

I just realized how many times I have used "I". I need to stop. (3 times in 2 sentences. Someone's a little full of themselves)

Going on... Pippi is my wonderfully insane dog, who I like more than most of the people I have had the displeasure of meeting over the years. She is a mutt, or "lab mix" as her vet records characterize her genetic makeup. How very PC of the vet. I don't want to talk about her too much because I am trying not to come off as one of those crazy dog people. You know, the types that wear "I Love My Dog" t shirts and talk to themselves. Weirdos.

To quickly sum up Pip, if she were an actual child she would definitely ride the short bus which makes me love her even more.

Lately, my life is relatively boring. I am blaming it on the snow and my Kindle. That gives me approximately another month or so before I need to get a life. Plenty of time to fill a social calendar. Hopefully.

Rant: I LOVE my Kindle! The back lighting makes reading so easy! I can download books in the matter of seconds! I can even subscribe to the New York Times! (Most newspaper publications for that matter.) It's so lightweight I can take it anywhere!

Since I have now resorted to professing my love for an inanimate object the time has come to put an end to this post; primarily in fear of revealing just how lame I truly am.