My Hell Smell Del Dell

I was reading the weekly pondering on the website of a a psychotherapist friend of mine. Considering I put the "psycho" in therapy, I was glad to see that I was using her suggestions without realizing it. She was writing about making connections with people to be more a part of life. As you know, from an earlier post of mine I made lots of friends in India thanks to Microsoft Vista. Now I'm getting to make even more friends in India and some in Canada thanks to my hell Dell computer and it's all Elliot's fault!

We decided to get connected to "Skype" so we could be interviewed by this darling little 8 year old boy named Elliot. He lives in the UK and has his own podcast. In my humble opinion he's a phenom. I'm hoping to ride his cute little coat tail to fame and fortune. Anyway, we needed to install a headset and microphone on our laptops to make the interview happen. The installation went fine on Earnest's HP computer, but it crashed my sound card. Now my computer is totally mute (something around here needs to be quiet.).We both have Vista operating systems so it was time to call smell Dell technical support. After several hours they decided I needed a new mother board. Maybe they read my Mutha's Day post and felt sorry for me (can you tell I'm getting really good at links?!) So my new mutha is supposed to be her way (what do you wear to meet your new mutha - comments anyone?)

I think the best part of the story (except for Elliot - he is the real deal, please check out his stuff.) is what happened next. I decided to contact a couple of "woo woo" type people I know who are into energy healing stuff. I was hoping they could send out some good vibes to change my computer mojo (I'm missing Elliot badly!) One of them said he would see what he could do but also told me to get a MAC (no not with cheese). But since I'm taking this making new friends thing so seriously, I'm sticking with the del Dell and Vista. I think owning a MAC would be like being the Maytag repairman - a lonely solitary existence doomed to a life of a fully functional machine. Where's the fun in that?

I'm Still Curvy

I'm sure you guys are anxiously awaiting the results from my first week at the "curvy "place. I don't think I mentioned that I also have a membership at the 24 houry place. I meet a friend there 3 nights a week to do my cardio. Curvy's is where I'm doing strength training. So this week I got in a total of 5 workouts. My big news is - 4 pounds!

I met a woman today who has been going to the "curvy" place for 4 years and her magic number is 20 pounds and holding. I haven't had any mac cheese all week. I know I said I was going to sleep with Mac earlier this week when I mad at Earnest but I decided not to cheat.

All this sounds great doesn't it? Problem is the fricking 4 pounds is weight GAIN and so was the lady's 20 pounds. And don't even give me "the muscle weighs more fat thing". I can't possibly have built 4 pounds of muscle in the last week. And I'm not PMSing - because I'm post-pmsing forever which means the bloating is not going away in two or three days and at this point neither is the bitchiness! Grrrrrr.

The Importance of Divorcing Earnest

Okay I want to divorce Earnest. That’s how I’m going to handle my jealousy. You know I’m preparing to write a big time book and I’ve been studying as much as possible. Preparation is getting in the way of my writing. I’m very prepared, but not very prolific right now or at least not as prolific as Earnest. In all my studies, no one bothered to explain how to deal with writer’s jealousy. Earnest is blogging more than me. Now I have to divorce him. I still love him. I just hate him. I’m wondering how it’s going to be to throw the baby out with the bath water (did someone really throw a baby away when they were pouring out dirty water – I never did get that one.)

Here’s the catch - the book I’m working on is one about being married to Earnest. As a matter of fact, Earnest is writing it with me. But now he’s blogging more than me and I’m pouting about it. I think divorce is an outward expression of an inner pout. I'll see how I feel in the morning, but I'm guessing I'll be Googling lawyers in the morning (hmmm now that's something to think about.) For now, I'm going to bed with Mac (cheese that is).

Oh honey you don't look like you weigh that much.

As you may remember, a few weeks ago, I discovered that I am my own brand. Now I’m learning that me, my brand, and I need to be building a “platform”. The platform (people who get your newsletters, go to your workshops, etc.) needs to be a big one to make me more attractive to agents and publishers. For me a platform needs to be a big one to support my family sized (thanks to mac cheese) booty.

Since I want it all – a BIG platform AND a smaller booty. I decided to take me and my booty over to Curves (before I go to Curves each day I’ll need to carb load on mac cheese.) I’m here to tell you that I met my new best friend today at Curves. It's the woman who enrolled me. We’ll just call her Mrs. Curves. She showed me the circuit and it looked doable. I decided to sign right on up. Now comes the fun part. Mrs. Curves now knows things about me that dear Earnest (and you) will NEVER know and I’m not a big secret keeper.

In a kind, soft, but regretful voice, Mrs. Curves asked “how much do you weigh?” I’d just gotten the bad news earlier on my own scale. So I took a deep breath, held my head high, and pretended to say the number with self-respect and dignity. Mrs. Curves' response showed surprise and she said in her kind, soft, regretful voice “oh honey you don’t look like you weigh that much.” She might have even meant it. If not, she gave on Oscar worthy performance to get the $34 monthly fee.

Next question – “how old are you?” This time I don’t have to pretend as much to be okay. I tell her I’m 50. Mrs. Curves’ response again shows surprise and her tone is still kind and soft “oh honey you don’t look like you are 50. You look …uh …er ...you look… good.” At this point I don’t know whether to hug Mrs. Curves and make her my honorary auntie or start crying. Does she mean women who are 50 and weigh as much as I do don’t normally look at good as I do – so I must be a wonderful specimen? Or does she mean women who are 50 and weigh as much as I do are repulsive beasts who scare small children? Maybe she thinks I look good because children are only mildly nauseated and anxious in my presence.

I’ve long believed that everything in life is a choice and that every choice has a consequence. Consequently, I’ve chosen to go with the “I must be a wonderful specimen” option. Since I look so darn good, I better keep doing what I’m doing and eat an extra serving of mac cheese tonight. After all it’s gotten me this far…

Mutha's Day

Another weekend of writing for dear ol' Earnestine means a trip to Kroger for supplies. After the last full weekend at the computer (see post of April 25), I decided to fore go the mac cheese and do a juice fast (really). This time I only traveled the outer aisles during the visit to the store. That's where all the "real" food lives (it's very sad on those outer aisles). It's also where the seasonal stuff can be found. Since nothing or no one has ever climbed out of my womb and my own mother died several years ago, I don't pay much attention to Mother's Day, but Kroger is doing an excellent job of marketing. I became acutely aware that Sunday is Mother's Day and Saturday is Hispanic Mother's Day (no I did not make that up) I'm not sure why Hispanic moms get a different day. If you do, please let me know.

But, I am a mother of sorts (no not a mutha!) I have bonus kids thanks to Earnest and I have dogbabies. The dogs haven't figured out how to bring me anything other than something ejected from one of their ends. But this year I realized that I have given birth - to words on paper or more accurately LCD. While those words didn't climb out of my womb, they did fall from my heart and mind. I decided to buy my own flowers. Due to the amount of money I've earned from writing, I opted for the $12.99 bouquet of pink roses rather than the $20 harmony bouquet. The roses are making me smile.

As for the juice fast, yuck. There's only one thing I miss more than my mac cheese this weekend and that's my mom.

Voyeurism

Hi Fellow voyeurs. If you checked here during the last week, you know I went off the radar. Occasionally, I have to to loan my body to the woman who pays the rent. She's been working at her paying job, but last night I regained control of the keyboard. I got "us" on www.linkedin.com/pub/8/298/46 (a networking website). Now I'm trying to make lots of contacts. It's a compulsion. I'm learning that total world domination through the www takes time and patience. Gotta run. "The other one" needs to see some clients so she can pay for my Internet connection!