I wrote so many blog posts today I lost count. I told someone that this one I’m writing at this very minute is my third. But it isn’t, you see, it’s my fourth. The only one you’ll see today is this one though. One isn’t done but it wasn’t for today anyway. Another wasn’t for today either and it’s not for this blog. The other was for today but didn’t work out. So here we go. Take 4.

Lacking the wherewithal to formulate a deeper post, I will instead share with you a revolting photo and a fun fact. I went to a presentation on Sunday at our local environmental conservation center. The topic was owls. When the animal wrangler/lecturer brought out an owl to show the audience, something popped out of it’s mouth. I looked like it puked up a furball. Except owls don’t have fur and it wasn’t puke. It was an owl pellet. Apparently, owls eat mice and such, but they are not able to chew them so they swallow them whole. And then, at some point in the future, they regurgitate the undigested portions that remain. As if seeing an owl upchuck right before my very eyes wasn’t enough, I was able to view an old, petrified owl pellet all up close and personal.

Naturally I took a picture, which I will now share with you. You’re welcome.

Kinda makes you hungry, right?

This is NaBloPoMo Day 20. You can read more and watch a video about the science of orgasms here.

Featured image credit: 15pictures.com

I owe you all an apology. For the last few days, I’ve been very self-absorbed. I’ve been thinking mostly about myself, doing stuff, etc. What I failed to do was keep you up to speed on my levels of fatigue and my coffee consumption.

I’m sure for days now you’ve been beside yourselves, wondering how I’ve been. Perhaps you have shaken a fist at the heavens exclaiming, “Why? Why? WHY hasn’t she updated us???” Maybe you gazed forlornly at the moon, hummed a few bars of Somewhere Out There and wiped a salty tear from your cheek.

I get it, and I’m sorry. I really am. Please let me attempt to make amends.

I’m still very tired. I had the crazy notion today that I should probably cut back on my caffeine since I now chase nearly every sip of coffee with an antacid. My pulse was racing in my eyeballs last night and sometimes, not often but sometimes, I feel the need to jump up around my kitchen. Then there’s my chronic inability to sleep which I am now claiming as the sole reason I am so fat (it has nothing to do with all the pizzas, I promise).

Today, in my effort to cut back on the coffee, I drank water. I mean, honestly. Water? Ugh. But I did it. The result was that I cut my coffee by one third, from 48 ounces to 32. It got so bad around 6:30pm that I had to drink a Capri Sun juice pouch with vegetables in it to stop myself from falling over. This will not stand. Obviously.

Tomorrow I think I’m going to need 64 ounces to even things out. I’ll let you know how it goes. Maybe I won’t though. You really can’t trust me when I say I’ll do something under the influence of water and juice pouches.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 19. You can read many others here.

Featured image credit: en.wikipedia.org

You guys. I have a huge, huge, huge, really big problem. My favorite jammie pants have a hole in the crotch.

I first received these pants as a gift for Christmas 2005. Or it could have been 2004. I know it was definitely not earlier than 2003 because I remember opening them in the living room of the house I bought in August of that year. I know it couldn’t have been 2006 because I wore them while I was ridiculously pregnant and that was Christmas 2006.

Let me clear up a few things that I’m sure you’re thinking about. First, do NOT point out that pants I have had for nearly a decade have lived a good life and therefore it may be time to let them go. I do not want to let them go. I told you, they are my favorite.

Do not point out that a pair of jammie pants that fit me during the largest point of my pregnancy (my kid was born a week after Christmas) might not be the best look for me. I wore them when my weight was in the 120s, I wore them in the 160s. I’ve worn them at every weight in between. They are my favorite and they happen to be quite flattering.

Do not point out that pale purple with pastel polka dots and a flip-up cuff with corresponding teal/white polka dots isn’t really a mature pattern for a grown woman such as myself. To that I will simply point out that you’re probably just jealous of my amazing pants.

And don’t you dare suggest that a crotch-run in my favorite jammies could potentially be from the fact that the crotch hangs (because of the size) and could have just been worn away by my 160-pound thighs rubbing together. Don’t point out the bottoms have frayed because at five feet tall, these pants are also too long and sometimes the fancy cuff falls down.

Do not point out that the bottom of the frayed cuff that is now somewhat stained from dragging on the ground when I’ve worn them outside (to walk the dog or get the mail or take out the garbage, not like to Target or anything) and that these stains are unsightly. These things happen.

I have other jammie pants. I have the red plaid that actually fit. I have the blue plaid that are super comfy, if not a touch too thin for those chilly nights when I refuse to turn the heat up higher than sixty degrees. I’m a jammie recycler and three pair really is enough. Two pair might be too few though, so the demise of my favorite pair is even more painful. No, I can’t simply buy another pair. Sheesh.

I love those pants. They have a pocket in the back. I can put my phone in there. They are the only jammie pants I own with a pocket to put my phone in and I need to put my phone in my pocket so I don’t lose it. If I throw out those pants, all of social media may crumble because I can’t find my phone.

So you see, my ugly, ripped, stained, excessively large pants are really saving the universe. I’ll bet you’re really sad about them now, too.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 18.

There’s this thing going around Facebook where people write random things about themselves. If you like one of these statuses, you get a number and you’re supposed to write random things about yourself. I was given the number eight because I liked my friend’s Facebook status. I decided doing it here would be a good way to knock off another day of NaBloPoMo. So, for your viewing pleasure, eight random things about me that you might not know:

1. I was 27 years old the first time I ate Chinese food. I didn’t want to ever try it because I was afraid it would make me puke. It didn’t.

2. I hate to make phone calls. I will do my best to get you to call me. I rarely make the call to order food. It sometimes takes me weeks to work up the gumption to make a hair or doctor appointment.

3. When I was served mashed potatoes without gravy as a child, I would fashion the pile into a cake and level it like I thought a pastry chef would. Then I would cut it into slices and serve myself Potato Cake.

4. I have a nocturnal mirror phobia. I’m absolutely petrified that someone is going to jump out of one and pull me into an alternate universe or maybe just kill me. I’m sort of afraid of them during the day, but for an entirely different reason.

5. I am a terrible reader. I do so very slowly and I have a hard time remembering what I read the paragraph before, so I tend to reread the same page several times. It is for this reason that I almost never missed a class in college because I almost never read a single thing in the textbooks I paid so handsomely for.

6. I knew I was going to marry my husband when I was 10 years old. I was coming down the stairs at my house and he was there to hang out with my brother. He stopped to make fun of my Punky Brewster sneakers and I fell in love. Those were some awesome sneakers.

7. I am extremely sensitive. I take things personally, I worry that you’re mad at me, and I generally assume everyone hates me unless they actually confirm otherwise. I might need that affirmation daily. And if I happen to hint that I’m feeling insecure because of some completely innocuous thing that may have happened, I will then worry that you’re mad at me for my insecurity.

8. I mentally write almost every single blog post or memoir passage in the shower. Even though I work from home, I still get up and shower first thing during the week so I have time to think about writing before I get lost in my day.

There you have it. Eight things you most certainly did not need to know about me and now you do. You’re welcome.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 15. The halfway point. It’s all downhill from here.

(Image credit: www.home-designing.com)

One of my favorite hobbies is watching TV. I probably watch way more than any busy woman should and I’m really OK with that. In fact, while I type this, I’m catching up on last night’s episode of Revenge. It’s a silly show, but I enjoy it. It’s perfect for Monday night viewing. I’m in no mood to think too hard and I really don’t have to think all that hard to watch it.

Tonight’s viewing brought to mind some of the things that I can’t stand about TV. Here are my top four:

1. Why do people on TV address people by their first and last names so often? No one in my inner circle calls me Michelle Longo in casual conversation. In fact, they don’t often say my first name which I’m fine with. On TV though, it happens all the time.

2. I can count on no hands the number of times I’ve given myself a pep talk in the mirror. It has happened exactly never. Yet on TV, people seem to do with alarming frequency. Script writers, please stop having people do that.

3. People never finish drinks on TV. Someone stops by someone’s house and is offered a drink which they accept. The host provides coffee or water or scotch, the person takes one sip, puts the cup down and leaves. If you came into my house and had me pour you a cup of coffee and then you wasted it, I’d be furious. We stretch our food dollars over here. Don’t be so wasteful.

4. Let’s say two people were out somewhere together, perhaps at dinner, having a conversation about one topic or another. In the next scene, they are walking into the house and they are still talking about the same thing as if no time had passed. Did they not talk while paying the check, getting in the car or in the entire drive home? Did they just stay silent that whole time until they got to the next set?

I’m sure there are plenty of other things that bother me, but it’s getting late and I want to enjoy the second to last episode of Eastbound & Down.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 11.