I’m Not Lazy, I’m Allergic

This has been a hell of a past few months for me.  Thus far, science has vindicated me in that my slovenly lifestyle means I’m a genius, my wine consumption will let me live forever, and now my favorite so far:  I am allergic to exercise.

click to read the Popular Science article (which has way more actual facts than mine)

I always suspected it, to be honest.  Once I rise from the couch, my heart rate soars, I feel the blood rushing to my head, and I crave a chocolate bar.  Classic signs of exercise allergies (it’s true, I swear).  Apparently, exercise-related allergies are worsened when combined with some foods.  For me, eating a Kit Kat on the treadmill has tragic consequences. And not in the way you’d suspect. So of course, to protect myself, I gave up the treadmill.

I can just see my next doctor’s appointment.  I imagine it will go something like this:

Doctor:  So, you’ve gained 55 pounds in the last two months since you’ve been here.

Me:  I’ve had to abstain from all exercise.  I’m allergic.

Doctor:  I’m sorry, what?

Me:  I read it on the internet, so it must be true.  Just to be safe, I’ve installed lift chairs on my stairs.

Doctor:  Well, I think that you…

Me:  And I call a taxi to drive me to the mailbox daily.

Doctor:  Let me guess; you call a taxi to take the trash out?

Me:  Don’t be ridiculous.

Doctor:  Well, that’s good because I…

Me:  I use Lyft for that.

Doctor:  I see you are wearing a Medic Alert necklace.

Me:  Sometimes I need to get off the couch suddenly.  I like to be prepared.

Doctor:  What are you eating?

Me:  Oh, I eat a variety of foods.

Doctor:  Well, that’s good.

Me:  Pizza on Mondays, lo mein and fried rice on Tuesdays, eggplant parm on Wednesdays, pasta Alfredo on Thursdays…

Doctor (interrupting):  That sounds like it’s all delivery food…

Me:  Hey, Doc, I’m not taking any chances.

Ok, so this sounds like a real cop out, I admit, but now that people are coming forward with their exercise allergies, I am ready to come forward with some of my own personal allergies. (Yes, I know being allergic to exercise is a real thing, and my heart goes out to anyone who suffers from such a condition, but that’s not going to stop me from using this scientific finding to my advantage. I mean, come on.)

  1. Laundry: I am filled with an intense feeling of dread whenever I see a pile of laundry.  I have trouble catching my breath, and my eyes water.  This could be because of my kid’s gym socks, but I’m playing it safe.
  2. Dishes: I cringe when I see a sink full of dirty dishes. I find that after doing dishes for an extended period of time, my hands develop a strange, prune-y type skin reaction.  To avoid this, I choose to use paper plates (biodegradable!).  It is a sacrifice I must make for my own good.
  3. Driving: Strange feelings of rage envelop me when I am driving around idiots.  I feel almost blinded by anger, and my mouth makes very odd noises that my friends call “cursing.”  It is very stressful and frightening.
  4. Mirrors and Scales: This is a strange allergy where I cannot recognize the old lady in the mirror and I don’t trust scales.  I live with the mirror allergy, but I avoid the scale allergy at all costs.
  5. Healthy Eating: Tofu makes my stomach heave oddly, as does soy milk.  I find the only cure for this allergy is an immediate stop at a Dairy Queen for a chocolate-dipped ice-cream cone.
  6. Wearing a Bra: Somehow, I get through this one daily with no lasting ill effects.  I have mastered the art of removing the offending garment without taking off my shirt as soon as I walk in the door, just before any lasting harm can be done.
  7. Newscasts: I get sick to my stomach whenever I see any newscasts any more.  I’m afraid this is one allergy that will only get worse, and one that I share with a lot of people. For at least the foreseeable future, there is no known cure.

Vindication is a sweet, sweet word.  I have been proven correct on so many of my theories that I feel unstoppable. What’s next?  Proof that lettuce and rice cakes cause weight gain?  Just wait for it, loyal friends, I haven’t been wrong yet.

My Cat is a Jerk

So, my cat Shaylee eats crickets. I know. Yuck. The thing is, she won’t eat the legs. Again. I know. Double-yuck. My unfortunate part in all of this bloody chaos is to clean up the mess left behind by my fur-covered psychopath lovely pet. It is not a job that I relish, in any way, shape, or form. If I find a cricket, I will gently catch it, and put it outside — after a stern lecture on its ill-advised decision to enter my patrolled abode … with the hopes it will scurry off, never to return to these murder-filled halls. But all too often, Shaylee is more observant, and certainly faster, than I could ever be. Which leads to cricket legs being scattered about the house for me to find. Let me be clear. Just. The. Legs.

I hate my life.

“you call them crickets, I call them impromptu snacks”

If Inspiration was a Person

Maya Angelou would have been 90 years old today. The world suffered a great loss at her passing in May 2014. Ms. Angelou was an amazing talent, a truly loving heart, and a strong, passionate, dedicated woman. Her words have never ceased to move me. The world is a better place for her having been in it.

click for more info on this incredible woman

 

Truth in Advertising

Somewhere in my internet excursions, I came across this little gem as a profile for an internet dating site:

The first thing I had to do was to check and see if I’ve been sleep-posting to dating sites again.  The second thing I needed to do was to install security cameras to catch whoever is spying on me, because really, this is just plain creepy.  The third thing I did was to ponder this poignant missive, and wonder why there is rarely any truth to online dating profiles.  As a service to you, my loyal readers and followers, I have decided to create a list of common dating profile phrases and define them for you.  You’re welcome in advance.

  • Average Body Type: This is a phrase that needs further clarification in so many ways
  • Must love pets: Crazy cat lady
  • Currently caring for parents: Lives at home
  • Friendly, outgoing personality: Starts bar room brawls at noon at the local saloon
  • People person: See above
  • Loves video games: Basement dweller
  • Occasional smoker: Closet chain-smoker
  • Investor: Buys scratch-off tickets at the local gas station
  • Loves working out: Loves working out what’s for dinner and whether to watch Maury or Dr. Phil
  • Loves hiking: Parks the car at the far end of Wal-Mart once weekly
  • Enjoys quiet afternoons antiquing: Hoarder
  • I enjoy fine wine by candlelight: Lush and possible arsonist
  • I’m laid back and easygoing: Neurosis still to be diagnosed
  • My friends say I’m fun: They have to, it’s what I’m paying them for
  • Seeking a partner in crime:   My last one is doing ten years because s/he didn’t run fast enough
  • Seeking a causal relationship: Married
  • Looking for friendship: See above
  • Love romantic dinners by candlelight: Will stick a candle in the napkin holder at McDonald’s
  • Very open minded: To my own ideas

Ok, I may seem a little harsh, but if you must know, my own online dating stories have been pretty much epic fails.  From the guy in the questionable hairpiece (I swear it was moving) to the one who claimed he was 6’4” and was actually a circus midget in real life (no really, he was in the circus, born and raised), I have been stalked, the recipient of highly inappropriate pictures (which I didn’t ask for, I’ll have you know), and otherwise disappointed to the point that I hardly even change out of sweatpants for dates anymore.  I have the escape text pre-programmed into my phone, and I carry mace in my purse.  Not the spray; an actual mace.

What if online profiles just said what they mean?  Read this one I recently posted on a dating site:

I’m just putting this profile up to get likes on the cute picture of me and my dog.  I hate to go anywhere, and doing things is usually too much of a bother.  My main profile picture is from eighty years ago when I was a cheerleader in high school.  I may have gained five, ten, a hundred and ninety pounds since then.  I hate people.  I especially hate people anywhere near me.  Ever.  I enjoy the quiet comfort of my couch and a healthy dinner of chocolate cake and Captain Crunch.  I snort when I laugh and have been known to belch at a funeral.  I think I look sexy in my fuzzy sweatshirt with the coffee stain on the sleeve.  Ok, on the sleeves.  Ok, on the sleeves and collar. I think I look sexy in my fuzzy sweatshirt covered in coffee stains and chocolate sauce. I really want to find someone who loves me unconditionally and gives me the attention I need while leaving me alone 99% of the time.  If you want to get back to me, that’s fine.  I don’t really care either way.  If we end up going on a date I’ll have to get dressed and leave the house, so it’s okay if you don’t contact me.  In fact, don’t bother. I’m kind of a bitch anyway. 

Still waiting on the right swipes to start rolling in. They’re coming though, any day now.

What if there was a dating site that matched you with pet profiles?  What do you think? Wow, I wasn’t even thinking THAT, you guys are sick.  Seriously. Ewww.

What I meant was, you could look at their profile and see their pets and connect through your love of animals.  They could call it Puppy Love, and the motto would be:

“Who cares about the owner, check out this adorable kitten.”

It’s impossible to be disappointed with the outcome of any date that included a fantastic pet encounter as well. Heck, I’d suffer through a bad date just to hang out with a kitten or pupper. You just can’t go wrong meeting a cute bundle of fluff. The guy (or gal) might be an asshole, but hey, at least you met a new doggo! Can you imagine the break-up? Yeah, so, I don’t think this is going to work. You’re an asshole. But I can still visit Caden the Corgi, right?  Right!?