27 February 2009

The Wii Fit Hates Me

My parents decided to get a Wii as a family Christmas gift. My dad has a fondness for video games and my mom was interested in the Wii Fit (to be referred to as "the fucking thing") so it seemed like a good idea. It took until now to obtain a Fit and I helped my dad set it up last night.

You get to use a Mii you have created and it runs you through a set up where you enter your age and height. Then the fucking thing calculates your BMI and adjusts your Mii to represent how fat the fucking thing thinks you are. Right now, my Mii is a chubster. The fucking thing says I'm obese.

Next comes a balance test. The fucking thing figures out where your weight is distributed and then makes snarky comments if you aren't perfectly aligned. The fucking thing asked me if I often find myself tripping over my feet. No I bloody well don't, you fucking thing!

Then you set a 2 week goal (ie, 4lbs in 2wks) and choose a trainer. The dude is wearing some snug bike shorts and the woman has the weirdest looking boobs I've ever seen. Also, the lips don't really move when they speak and the gestures used to sync up with what they are saying. I decided to do the yoga. The fucking thing runs you through a few basic yoga positions. It encourages you to breathe and all seems fine until...the balance circle pops up. The balance circle is a small yellow circle that has a small red dot in it. Your goal is to keep the red dot within the circle. The trainer will say things like "Good balance" or more likely "Looks like you're a little shaky". Of course I'm a little shaky, you fucking thing. I'm standing on one foot, trying to keep my fat body aligned properly so my stupid red dot doesn't go outside the shitty yellow circle.

Once you're done the exercise (each one ran about 2 min), you get points for how good your balance was. Oh, if you fall over, you get no points. It even has a ranking screen so you can judge yourself against your friends and family. What a lovely concept. As an incentive, you get an exercise bank and it banks your minutes. Not quite sure what I'm supposed to do with that, but the fucking thing seems to think it is a great motivator.

Yes, I know it's a machine and it isn't really being malicious, but there's nothing like looking at a fat cartoon version of yourself in exercise clothes. Hopefully my mom will enjoy using it.

23 February 2009

My Day in 4 Acts

All the Bioclusive orders had ID#s. Yay!

I slapped myself in the face with my purse-strap. Owie.

I have a bathroom ceiling again. Yay!

I spilled wonton soup all over the counter and floor. Boo.


17 February 2009

Fake Friends and a portable wood chipper...

Hey babies! It's time for another episode of Daddy's Bout O' Bitchin! Today I want to talk to you all about bad people and good fertilizer. So, Daddy has a boyfriend with a B-day coming up, and as requested, I'm getting a bunch of people together for dinner and dancing. I actually started planning this whole shin-dig last month. So, now that the 'party' is less than a week away, yet again my man's supposed best friends (another couple) can't make it. This time, the excuse is they have to host an open-mike night that they already admitted nobody comes to and is a waste of their time. And not to be overly petty, but this is after 2 other last minute cancelations and a simple no show. Ok, now for the petty part. For X-mas, we got the Her half of the couple a freaking designer L.A.M.B. top, and for the Him half, we got the complete Tom Baker collection of Doctor Who episodes (including the unaired one) which isn't even available in the U.S. yet! I'm not saying that getting them nice presents entitles us to special treatment, the season is about the thought. I just think that it isn't too much to ask to attend the B-day party of the person who makes it a point to let you know that you are cared for and appreciated. Meh. Ok babies, sweet dreams. And remember, when all else fails, throw the body in a wood chipper and plant some roses.

Oh, Humanity. I Despair of You.

People are really something. Not only are we neurotic and fucked up about ourselves, we insist on foisting our view of the world on non-humans. We anthropomorphize trees and rocks and animals. If it's good enough for humans, it's good enough for everything else. Yet somehow, I never lose my capacity for surprise.

I was hanging out with jr and JewFro the other day and saw something sitting on their coffee table. It was a pouch of doggie treats. Not especially exciting considering the two dogs that live with them. What appalled me was the words on the packaging - "50 calorie pack".

Wait, what?

I have no problem with putting a pet on a diet. Obesity kills animals as surely as it kills humans but really now. I'm still disgusted that people can't manage to parcel out a 50 calorie serving of crackers (or whatever), and now they need to be provided with a package of treats in order not to overindulge their fluffy little snookums? This is right up there with people who insist on feeding their dogs a vegetarian/vegan diet. Think about where dogs come from. Do you think a wolf could survive on peas and carrots? Dollars to donuts, that starving bitch would snap your hand off at the wrist at the first opportunity.

People preach moderation but seem unable to moderate on their own. It's up to the corporations to decide that 100 calories of stupid little Oreo cracker-type things is a fantastic snack. Purina (or whomever) saw this working so well on humans and figured, hey, let's make animals neurotic like people! Is it any wonder people put their pets on Prozac?

11 February 2009

Get a Mop

Everyone? Can I have your attention for a moment?

Thank you. Here's what I want everyone to do. Take a deep breath. That's right; in through the nose, out through the mouth. Good. Now another one. Good.

You can smell that, can't you? Taste it in the back of your throat? It tastes kind of like blue? Anybody have any idea what that is? No one? What that is, my friends, is the smell of crazy leaking all over the place.

Now maybe it's the unseasonable warmth. I always get a bit rammy when the weather turns. There's something about the softening of the air, an indefinable sense of anticipation, that makes me all squirmy. What ever it is; I can feel the crazy oozing through the cracks. It's making me think about stuff I'd prefer not thinking about. I want to do cartwheels and backflips and make unnecessary and unwarranted declarations of - something. I want something major to happen. Good major, of course. I want to climb out of my skin. I feel like the only way to release the pressure is to lay on the floor and scream at the ceiling. It feels a bit like being angry but without the desire to hit things.

I know I'm not crazy in the conventional sense but I need a word, or phrase, for what I'm feeling. anticipation doesn't cover it and pleasant tension just sounds stupid. That, and it's not all pleasant. When the pressure gets to be too much, I almost feel like I'm coming apart at the seams. That what's inside cannot be contained by the skin.

It'll pass; it always does. Please don't 302 me.

Calm Down

It's OK. I'm OK. It's no big deal. People friend random quasi-strangers on Facebook all the time, right? And I am sending this dude about 2 letters a week. On the plus side, there aren't any pictures on my Facebook that I'm ashamed of. I'm verrrrrry careful to limit photographic evidence of my activities. Not that I do much that's really bad.

Really, it was a bad idea because it ruins my whole "no face to the name" thing I was trying to do. I don't want to know if he's attractive, or single, or anything like that. I am writing letters to give a soldier a (hopefully) bright spot in his day. The last thing I need is to have random nonsense floating around my brain. It's definitely a good thing that he probably won't be able to approve/deny the request for a couple of weeks. I should be in a fairly normal mental space by then.

Random aside: I am posting this from my home! I am wireless, baby!

10 February 2009


Oh shit, I take it back. I take it BACK! Sure it's a reasonable thing to do but I can only think about the potential weirdness. Fucking Facebook. Stupid crazy Carrie G.

Past Sins and Present Woes

Someone please tell me what sin I'm paying for. Did I mistreat my Walkman? Was I a perpetrator of car stereo abuse? What did I DO?!?!

While I'm sad and frustrated at my inability to have wireless internet at my home, I believe that my IT guy feels worse. I just have to sit there and say "Oh, that sucks" or "It's totally got to be Comcast". He's the one poking around, trying to make my recalcitrant network actually work. I have faith that he will make it work.

On a completely unrelated note, I've gotten a couple of emails from my penpal. He's only received one of my letters so far, but seems pretty excited to get more.

On a less happy note, they laid more people off at work yesterday. I think I'm fairly secure, but these are uncertain times. Normally, it doesn't really bother me when people get booted (unless I like them), but this time I felt it. I decided to go home and drink a bit. One large vanilla screwdriver later, I was reasonably cheery.

09 February 2009

No Time Like the First Time

Hey babies, thanks for reading, and I hope I don't disappoint. Now gather 'round children, it's time for today's Bout 'O Bitching! (In case you were wondering, yes Daddy is also a bit of a queen.) Today I'm going to rant a bit about a podcast that I listen to on a daily basis. And just to get it out of the way, yes I enjoy this program, it's just this one thing that pisses me off, not a condemnation of the entire show. Anyway, the podcast is called "Gay Pimpin' with Jonny McGovern". It's a really funny show that is targeted to teens and young adults. Thing is, while they are all about taking pride in yourself as a gay person and expressing yourself, the cast is so nasty when it comes to fat people. It's been mentioned several times when they discuss listener mail that they get questioned about why they are so mean about this. Every single time a nasty comment is made and the whole issue is made fun of. Maybe I'm being over-sensitive about this since I grew up as the fat kid, but I think that people who are making a show targeted to teens have a responsibility not to single out a group of people in a community that already has a very high suicide rate.

Anyway, I think I'll leave it here, since I'm getting perilously close to babble mode. Feel free to comment early and often.

Omae Mona News Update

Sometime in the next couple of weeks you may notice some posts from another author. A friend of mine said something to me the other night about wanting a forum to rant and rave about some stuff. Well, I have a forum and pretty much all I do is rant and rave, so I offered to give him posting privileges on Omae Mona. I'm not going to give a name because he hasn't told me how he wants to be known, but keep your eyes open. And I'm not gonna say "be nice" because he can take care of himself.

05 February 2009

A Not Very Exciting Post

Ever wake up in the morning when it's still dark out and just start crying because you're so fucking tired? OK, that didn't happen to me today, but while I was driving to work my steering wheel was so cold it hurt my poor little fingers. Unfortunately for me, I only had glove liners in the pocket of my ski jacket. As you can probably imagine, they didn't do much against the 18 degree cold. I decided to treat myself by stopping at Starbucks. Nothing like stupid expensive coffee to soothe the soul. I ordered an espresso truffle. It is in some indefinable way different than a traditional mocha, but the only real difference I noticed was in the price. Maybe the chocolate taste had a bit more depth, but other than that, I really just paid more for a grande truffle than I would have for a venti mocha.

That's it, I got nothing else. Sorry.