Stuff that happened this week that I thought was worth mentioning …

Posted on February 17, 2012 | 8 comments

Today’s Weight … 120.8

It’s been five days since I checked in here. Glad to see that number down a bit. Pretty impressive considering the cheese consumption in this household this week. And we’re now headed into Mardi Gras weekend. The good news is … lots of walking. The bad … lots of food … and drink. Sigh. Promise to be honest with the stupid weigh-ins. Ugh.

Don’t get it? Check this post.

1. I attended a Polyphonic Spree concert with my brother and my friend, Vanessa. I realize most of you probably aren’t familiar with this band, so please allow me to pontificate. There’s something about their music (especially live) that elicits an inexplicable feeling of euphoria usually only indicative of a nice muscle relaxant. Or, well, something like that. Maybe it’s the 16 people taking the stage at once wearing choir robes and carrying with them an orchestra’s worth of instruments that sets them apart. I don’t know. And, because I’m a big dork, I stuck around after the concert to meet the band’s frontman, Tim DeLaughter (even his freakin’ name sounds happy) and snap a quick photo. I’ve included the picture as well as a shameless plug for the band (a video of their appearance on Scrubs in 2004 – Love this band. Love this show).

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2. While Googling the above song for a good video for this post, I was reminded of a movie (in which the song was used) that I always intended but never actually got around to seeing. (Story of my life.) So this week, thanks to Netflix, I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Anyone besides me ever see it? That is one unconventional film. And it involves Jim Carrey in a serious (as opposed to manically stupid) role which (like Robin Williams) is always a good thing. I won’t ruin it for you by rehashing the whole plot. Just go see it for yourself some time and come back and tell me what you think.

3. Ellen DeGeneres used one of my jokes on her show this week. “ONE of my.” That’s funny. Like I have an arsenal or something. Anyway, she was seeking corny Valentine’s Day jokes and I tweeted her one. What’s that? Well, YES, I tweet. It’s 2012, McFly. (Great. Any hipness Twitter just bought me was erased by my cavalier use of ‘McFly.’)

4. I lost half of my face to a little snafu with a women’s skin care product, uncharacteristically cold weather and my own, full-on ignorance. Apparently, Retin-A does not double as a moisturizer. I’ll bet any woman worth her salt already knew that. In the area of cosmetics and girly savoir faire, I am not worth any salt, mine or anyone else’s. Which, apparently, is only about $2.99 per pound, thus rendering me pretty useless. Except that when I complained of my Retin-A debacle, one friend actually said I was ‘making leprosy cool.’ Um, thanks?

5. I made cheese. Yes, that’s right. I built it. From the ground up … or the milk up, as it were. There were powders, liquids, cooking thermometers and oversized, cauldron-y-looking pots involved. And then there was the whole curds-and-whey-separation, a rather tedious process. And kneading. Dear God, was there kneading. But, in the end, there was cheese. Mozzarella cheese. That we promptly used on a homemade pizza for dinner last night. I made cheese. (Sniff.) I may try walking on water later this weekend.

6. I watched my girl kick butt in her third year in the school talent show. She channeled a young Michael Jackson beautifully in her own take on ‘I Want You Back,” although I think she was going for Nickelodeon’s Victoria Justice who recently covered the old J5 song. And, as always, we got to see a lot of other kids strutting their best stuff on stage all evening. One of my favorite acts involved two nine-year-old white boys popping and locking better than a 1980s Alfonso Ribeiro. (Without googling him, please comment below if you actually know who I’m talking about. No cheating!)

7. With the help of a few friends, I compiled a list of of people we’d like to see cloned and sent it to @GeneticsView who (foolishly) decided to follow me on Twitter. They hung in there for most of my shenanigans but finally unfollowed me because, I think, I got greedy and asked for too many clones. Who was on the list, you ask? Using the input of others as well as my own ideas, we sent them the following names: Brad Pitt, Jane Russell, Johnny Depp, Julia Child, Bono, Ellen Degeneres and Orlando Bloom. We were really just getting started when they unfollowed. Cowards. What crappy customer service.

8. I learned that I am an unteachable monkey when it comes to the computer. As such, there will likely be many more ‘This is not a real blog post‘ blog posts until I get this crap straightened out. Feel free to ignore them.

9. I learned that I know someone who knows Paul McCartney. That’s only two degrees, people. Meaning YOU are only three degrees of separation from Sir Paul. Go run and update your Facebook statuses … now!

10. I accidentally emailed my kids’ teachers from my ‘tits’ email again. Bear in mind, my daughter’s teachers include a nun. Please say a prayer for me immediately.

11. I an effort to throw off the many cheesy porn autobots of the world, I tried reprogramming my Twitter account by using hashtags like #Osmonds, #GirlScouts, #PBS, #BillCosby, #7thHeaven, #milk, #Crazy8s and #Waltons. It worked, but only for about five hours.

12. I devoted a day of my life to thinking good thoughts about Doug Henning. Doug Henning, you guys! Am I the only one who misses his big, buck teeth? Did you know he was a magician, illusionist, escape artist AND politician? Didn’t see that one coming, did you? A moment of silence for Mr. Henning, please.

Oh, yeah. And we passed 25,000 hits on this six-month-old blog. Yay, us! Thanks to all for reading. Happy Mardi Gras! I’m off to THE paradeS. 

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This is not a real post either. Do not read it. As a matter of fact, we forbid you to read it.

Posted on February 14, 2012 | 8 comments

This is a test. Again. But the administrator here at ODNT is a complete dumb ass and has trouble accomplishing the simplest of computer tasks. The goal? To link the ODNT blog to the ODNT Facebook page so that a notification of every new post is listed automatically on the Facebook page and sent to all fans. (Are they still called fans? Does that sound pretentious? Should it be readers? Friends? Fools who clicked ‘like’ and keep forgetting to undo it and get on with their lives?)

Yesterday’s attempt to link the account was … as the kids are saying these days … an EPIC FAIL. And our ODNT administrator needed to take a little time off to pull herself together. The tears, the hysteria … it was ridiculous. And we were embarrassed FOR her. She was mess and we, as usual, were left to pick up the pieces. At this point, we don’t know how much more of her we can take and are prepared to go to the top of the food chain of this huge organization and propose an ultimatum.

It’s her or us!

Are you still reading this crap? We said it wasn’t a blog post. It’s just a place filler. And we have readers like El Guapo thinking that if you just take every fifth letter and string them together, translate it to Japanese and then back to English, that it might reveal a secret message. Perhaps even some kind of Horcrux. (We threw that one in for you, Guap … and all of the Harry Potter nerds out there .. of which we are clearly also labeled.)

Anyway, please … for the love of all things covered in extra cheese … say a little prayer, do a little dance or make some sort of inappropriate sacrificial offering that she gets it right tonight. We can’t take another one of her meltdowns.

And you’ll be left to clean up the mess around here from now on.

Signed,
The Middle Management

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This is not a real blog post. You should not read it. There is nothing interesting here.

Posted on February 13, 2012 | 9 comments

This is a test.  It is only a test … to determine if the ODNT blog has been successfully listed to Facebook … as the administrator of the blog is tired of manually publicizing the release of every … new … post.  It’s 2012, for freak’s sake, and ‘manual’ (said with much contempt and sarcasm) has become a dirty word and should no longer be a part of the vocabulary of today’s lazy ass computer generation.

If you are still reading, we strongly suggest that you put down the laptop, the iPad, the smartphone or whatever other piece of crap you’re using to access this blog.

(dead silence … blink, blink)

Seriously, you’re STILL reading?  Dude, this isn’t like the end of Ferris Bueller.  We have NOTHING interesting to share here.  It’s not a real post.

Don’t you get it?

Go have dinner.  Walk your dog.  Hug your kid.  Play that musical instrument you’ve ignored for so long.  Clean out our freezer. Read a damned book. There’s nothing to see here, people. The ONLY purpose of this post is for the administrator of the blog to determine if she finally straightened this crap out.  I doubt she did.  Between us, she’s a bit of an idiot.

Please don’t tell her we said that.

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You can’t spell ‘Don’t’ without O-D-N-T

Posted on February 12, 2012 | 8 comments

Today’s Weight … 122.0

Yes, it’s up. Nearly two pounds. The sad thing is that, had I only stopped chowing down on everything long enough to write a damned post lately, I could’ve logged my recent 119.7 weigh-in. But noooo! I have to report TODAY’S weight.  (eyes rolling)

Don’t get it? Check this post.


It came to my attention recently that simply rearranging the ‘call letters’ of this blog creates another entirely new word – Don’t. The word is usually restrictive, negative, even demanding … but I thought it could open the door to all kinds of hilarious hijinks, shenanigans and other dumbassery. So, here we go … the first-ever edition of ‘You Can’t Spell Don’t without O-D-N-T.

I don’t …

… drink coffee. Ever. I mean, like maybe I’ll have it twice a year. When all the other cool kids are doing it. And, honestly, I feel kind of left out. Most of my friends suck it down by the barrel every day. Seems like a pretty acceptable vice. A benign enough addiction. Right?

Well, not in my case.

Last week, I exercised with a friend and went to have coffee with her afterwards. And, in a complete and utter shit-girls-say moment, I found myself turning to her when we walked up the counter and saying,“Um, what’s my coffee order, Vanessa?”  After all, I was there to taste her diet discovery.  I don’t know the first thing about ordering a pretentious, lengthy-named, fancy-ass coffee beverage.

And so she ordered for me. I heard mention about doubling up on something. I just nodded my head.  “Whatever you’re having,” I said like an idiot.  I didn’t realize we were already talking about a one-and-a-half-shot situation. Which meant doubling it translated to tripling the shot. Of espresso.

By the time it hit me, I was parking the car at the grocery store. Still completely unaware of what I had done to myself. And, as I felt my face heat up and my heart begin to race (“inexplicably”), I wondered if I was having a heart attack. Then, it dawned on me. And so, naturally, I began tweeting …

Dear Barista, You screwed up my coffee order. I said DECAF! Now, come help me down from this tree. I’m a freakin’ hummingbird.

Holy crap. Just learned my drink “accidentally” had THREE shots of espresso. Funny joke, friends. I could outrun the roadrunner.

I am so “Less Than Zero” right now.

At grocery. Cheese is talking. But not to me. Stupid cheese. Feel like I’m running but might be moving in slow motion. #accidentallydrugged

I think I feel my hair growing.

It’s bad when you can play doubles tennis by yourself, right? Should I call the hospital?

Don’t cut me off in traffic, dude. Today is the day I’ll “accidentally” beat you to death with a hairbrush.

This is a grocery bag. Not a damned parachute. Help!

Why is everyone speaking like they’re in super slo-mo?

I’m melting … melting …

CRASH!

Friends don’t let friends overcaffeinate their friends-who-don’t-drink-coffee’s drinks. #WorstPSAEver

It was a c-RA-zy afternoon. I felt energized, anxious and sick … all at the same time. The crash was hard, but necessary. And it was good to be myself again. I just wish I’d be home when it happened so I could’ve finally gotten my bathroom tiled. I could’ve knocked that shit out in fifteen minutes.

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A special night with my girl and an unexpected request for dinner

Posted on February 8, 2012 | 9 comments

Today’s Weight … 120.2

Check out that third digit. See it? The one right before the decimal point. Yes, that’s right! Proof that you CAN eat cookies and lose weight!

Don’t get it? Check this post.

I felt completely compelled to write a post today based on the above weigh-in box. Especially when you consider the fact that my girl and I went out for dinner tonight and my numbers are likely to creep back up tomorrow.

She and I have been wanting (read: dying) to try out a neat little tapas place located in the Riverbend section of the city. Over the years, I have sat with the owner at the bar in his Spanish restaurant to purchase numerous gift certificates for special people in my life. And every time, I have enjoyed (because if I say ‘sample’ than you don’t realize that I mean entirely full glasses) of his homemade Sangria as well as cured meats, a few desserts and, well, cheese. And I’m like a cat when it comes to cheese. If you feed me once, I’ll be back repeatedly for the same service. You’ve got a friend forever.

The owner is adorable. He’s a Seinfeld character if you ever saw one. And, every time I go in to purchase another gift certificate,  he asks me when I myself will be coming in to dine with him. The last time I went my girl was with me. Thus, she was involved in the decadently gustatory experience of it all. And she’s been asking me to take her back there ever since.

So tonight, while the boys in our family took in yet another Hornets basketball game, the girls decided we were tired of waiting on them and we jumped in the car to have dinner at ‘Barcelona.’ (Yes, I sang that name to the tune of Oklahoma the entire way. What is WRONG with me?  “Barrrrrrrrrrrrcelona, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain ….” )

The owner was just inside the door when we arrived and recognized us both immediately from our past visits. He instantly stopped what he was doing, seated us himself and stayed to talk over the many offerings on the menu. My daughter already knew what she wanted from her previous visit: the 18-month-cured Serrano ham. She describes it as ‘the ham that changes you.’ Keep in mind, she’s 9.

She ordered the garlic crimini mushrooms … and she literally drank the garlic butter sauce in the dish when the mushrooms were gone. (Sure, I probably shouldn’t have let her do it, but she’s a skinny little thing and was so happy that I didn’t want to squelch it.) She also ordered a small plate of ham that came with large croutons upon which she was instructed to rub the garlic cloves and grape tomato halves that came with it, then add a little olive oil and salt, then place the ham on top. I honestly think she enjoyed the preparation pageantry as much as the food itself. She even created her own garlic pop (yes, it’s as gross as it sounds) following the completion of her meal while I finished mine.

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The picture doesn’t do it justice.  There’s olive oil and salt coating the outside of that little chunk of impaled garlic.

I ordered a glass of Sangria (that I would later refill) and let the kitchen select my plates for me. I offered only the suggestion of cheese. And I was not at all disappointed. I tried the Manchego as well as the Gouda which also came with their own crouton bread, Chorizo, spreads, etc.

And for dessert? My girl had never tried Creme Brûlée so we ordered the restaurant’s take on it entitled Catalan Creme Brûlée which infused lemon juice and cinnamon into the traditional recipe. We liked it so much that we, um, ordered a second one.

I don’t expect to get along with my scale tomorrow. At all.

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Seven weird things that happened to me since my last post

Posted on February 6, 2012 | 10 comments

Today’s Weight … 121.9

Two pieces of king cake, sushi, crawfish pasta, finger sandwiches, french fries, cheese, an Oreo ball, a doughnut and alcohol. Oh, and a banana. Surprisingly not a good recipe for weight loss.

Don’t get it? Check this post.

(1) I bit down into a fried oyster and may have cracked my tooth on, ironically, another tooth. Actually, part of another tooth … that somehow was deposited and cooked with the oyster. It was restaurant leftovers. And, yes, I realize how completely disgusting this situation is … as it was in my mouth.

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(2) I watched as a group of dads (I’m sorry, I mean really tough guys) defended the honor of my friend, Vanessa, who was accosted by a large group of redneck hillbillies (I can say it, I’m from here) at the family Mardi Gras parade this weekend. Totally serious. It almost got as ugly as the people doing the accosting.

(3) I was handed a tooth at our Superbowl party yesterday. Granted, it was my daughter’s. But still … what’s with all the dental omens?

(4) I stopped to take a picture of my neighbor’s garbage … a 1960s-ish AirGoMeter (wondering if it’s Air-GO-Meter or AirGOMeter) … and contemplated “stealing” it for the purposes of my own entertainment.

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(5) I used a bathroom with a bidet yesterday. I thought that merited mentioning.

(6) I was sold a beer at my Superbowl party yesterday by my daughter.

(7) I helped a friendly stranger name her (hopefully award-winning) vegetarian chili. My suggestion? Milli Vanilli Chili. Because the recipe includes an ingredient posing as a something else.

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Busy day of Mardi Gras parades, Superbowl parties & #footballforwomen

Posted on February 5, 2012 | 1 comment

Today’s Weight … 121.3

“Losing weight during Mardi Gras season is going to be harder than I thought,” said me, with a mouth full of doughnut.

Don’t get it? Check this post.

I just dropped off my family and an entire truckload of crap at the float for their parade.  My daughter’s on the bottom level with a bunch of friends.  My son’s up top with one friend and a bunch of crazy-looking people I don’t know.  Among them is a tattooed lady in Harley Davidson assless (is that hyphenated?) chaps.  And she’s 72. (Shudder.)  Dave will be running up and down the ladder checking on both of the kids throughout the parade.  And I’ll be running behind the float trying to break my boy’s two-story fall with my body.

Well, that was my personal Facebook post today anyway.  (It’s a joke. And, yes, I know it was hiLARious!)

I will not really be chasing behind the float.  I will be at the end of the parade waiting with friends and family to see my little people on their inaugural float ride (read: rite of passage in these parts) and hoping to get their attention long enough for at least one blurry photograph. (Sniff.)

And we will be dashing straight from the parade (and its after-party) festivities to a Superbowl party.  Those of you who have been following along know I’m not a huge sports fan.  Of course, it would have been entirely different if the Saints were playing today. Sigh.

So, if you’re on Twitter and you’re sitting around today confused … or bored … or just seeking a laugh between plays, look for us on #footballforwomen.  It’s sort of like #shitgirlssay, football-style. And don’t be afraid to put in your (Kick it through the thing!! Kick it through the thing!! ) two cents.

Go … uh … team!

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Now taking ideas for what’s acceptable to hurl off a Mardi Gras float

Posted on February 3, 2012 | 3 comments

Today’s Weight … 121.7

I ate cheese, damn it! In pizza form! TWO deliciously-evil, triangular-shaped pizza forms!

Don’t get it? Check this post.

My kids are riding in a parade this weekend. This is New Orleans, remember? It’s their first experience and, needless to say, they are totally pumped. As such, I’ve spent the last few weeks scouring our closets, cabinets, drawers, pantry, pockets, shed, yard, cat box and sofa cushions for trinkets or anything that would be appropriate for chucking off a float. If you’re not from NOLA, know that I’ve caught everything from large leafy vegetables to five-foot Tweety Bird plushes to real, non-novelty underwear … so everything in this house is fair game. I’ve also badgered everyone within driving distance offering to pick up their household sludge. Plus, I visited the nearest Mardi Gras supply store (they abound here) to purchase a few choice items that my kids specifically requested for their stash. The boy’s number one throw request? Moon pies. And the girl’s? Stuffed animals.

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Holy crap. Someone call ‘Hoarders.’ (God, I hope we have enough …)

My girl’s so excited about riding that she used it as the theme for her English assignment yesterday to create a cinquain (don’t feel bad – I totally had to look it up, too) which is a class of poetic forms that employ a 5-line pattern. She showed me her creation while she was doing her homework today.

Very cute. She’s got the crown, the masks, all the Carnival colors … it seems right on, yes?

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Until I zoomed in a little …

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“Fighting, Acting, Yelling??” Well … now she makes us sound like a bunch of uncivilized, redneck hillbillies!

Of course, I guess I’m doing my job right selling it to her as a mom (a New Orleans mom) because she followed up that colorfully violent description with “A Great Experience for Everyone” and “Incredible.”

I guess we are what we are down here. And my kids are riding with their dad anyway. So, if there’s going to be any “fighting” over airborne crap thrown in my direction, I will be the one doing it. Cross your fingers my kids don’t see me.

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From Girl Scout cookies to baby Michael Jackson

Posted on February 2, 2012 | 4 comments

Today’s Weight … 121.4

Not bad considering there was late night hummus and crackers involved.

Don’t get it? Check this post.

You’ll be happy to know that, 24 hours later, the Girl Scout cookie sale total now stands at a somewhat respectable 93, thanks to a certain restaurateur (that spelling is correct – I looked it up) in town who ordered 39!

Yes, it’s a weird number.  But when someone orders 39 boxes of cookies from your child, you don’t ask …“Why?  Why not an even 40?  Do you need a number that is equally divisible by 13? Should I be worried about that? You do know that these are Girl Scout cookies, right? Wholesome Girl Scout cookies.” Instead, you simply smile and say, “Why, thank you, ma’am, for supporting the Louisiana Girl Scouts Council.  May I ask where you would like your cookies delivered? And, my, what a lovely blouse you’re wearing today.”

And, if you’re wondering what 93 boxes of cookies will score you, take comfort in the fact that my girl has earned the theme patch (60+), the chump 2012 patch (36+) and the (lame) participation certificate (1).  I think that last one was created for the sad, little paste-eaters. (“You’re all winners to me!”)  

After these patches comes stuff (i.e. hoarder-house-clutter).  Incentives like sneaker-shaped pencil pouches, plush giraffe neck pillows and glittery soccer balls are among the many exciting prizes she can earn to help fill the nooks and crannies of our home.  I’m not too worried about them.  But I know she is.  Poor thing never stood a chance with my two-day sales blitz. Anyway, please wish my sweet girl luck tomorrow as she auditions for the school Variety Show.  She’s done it a few years now and this year will be performing a great little number she picked out on her own. Enjoy!

Dave & I offered to be her back up.  She declined. And we had moves and everything. Sigh.

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Nothing brightens my day like selling Girl Scout cookies. (Did that sound believable?)

Posted on February 1, 2012 | 9 comments

Today’s Weight … 122.0

Pshhhhh.  I laugh at you, two tenths of a pound.  You will not deter me.

Don’t get it? Check this post.

It seems that everything I need to do lately needs to be done … “by tomorrow!” I’m forgetting so very much these days.  Stress? Mom brain? Old age? The formaldehyde in my nail polish?  Who knows?  But since I just learned that our Girl Scout cookie order form is due the day after tomorrow, I sent this email out today.  If you happen to live in my area and are actually interested in ordering some overpriced treats (now with no trans fats!), let me know.  Otherwise, you can just enjoy reading the last minute pitch of a desperate and tired woman.

Dear (unfortunate soul selected from my personal email database for this hapless sales effort because you live nearby and I don’t think you have a girl scout in your close circles),

This is the weakest sales pitch you will ever receive.

My girl is selling Girl Scout cookies.  Again. And I’m helping.  Again.
 .
The boxes are $3.50 each. If you want some, please let me know as soon as you can.  Here are your cookie choices –
  • Savannah Smiles (like Lemon Coolers)
  • Trefoils (shortbread)
  • Do-Si-Dos (sandwich peanut butter)
  • Samoas (caramel coconut)
  • Dulce de Leche (with milk chocolate chips)
  • Thank You Berry Much (taste like Pop Tarts to me)
  • Tagalongs (chocolate peanut butter)
  • Thin Mints (unless you live under a rock, you know what they are)
If you live nearby, we’ll deliver them to you.  And we almost never remember to collect any money, so we’re really the best deal in town. Also, if you don’t want any cookies or just want to ignore my email, no sweat.  Two minutes after I hit send on this message, the phone will probably ring and I’ll take the call and one of the kids will run in needing something from me “immediately” while I’m talking and the buzzer to whatever I’m cooking on the stove will go off just as it’s beginning to boil over and I will completely forget I even sent this email. I think I hear the phone now …
So far, we’ve sold thirty boxes … which is nothing in the scoutly world of patch-earning, but it’s not bad for two hours without leaving the house.  I’m expecting great things and will, of course, keep you posted …. as I know this kind of information propels you merrily through your day. Which is really why I am here.

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