Archive for December, 2010

06
Dec
10

I Lerve Groupon


ORGANIC CHAT

So, hi.

How are you?

I’m fine.

Just got back from doing some shows in Wisconsin.

I had an omelette Saturday morning and it virtually killed me.

But it was fricken TASTY.

What else is going on with you?

So, check this out…

ORGANIC FOOD DEAL

Organic food for cheapy cheap!

If I had any money, I would get it for myself, but I don’t, so you get it!

I try to buy as much organic food as I can, especially produce, but it breaks the bank, know what I mean?  Plus, there are some fruits and veggies that you just don’t need to bother with in my opinion.

Here is my DO buy list:

Peaches, apples, cherries, bell peppers, celery, strawberries, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, raspberries, carrots

and my DON’T BOTHER list:

avocado, corn, pineapple, mango, asparagus , eggplant, all melons, broccoli, bananas, cauliflower, squash

I mean, if I could, I would buy all of these things.

If I could, I would also take a bath made entirely out of butter, but we can’t afford these things, can we?

Check this out…I ran across this somewhere, don’t ask me, I have 693 window tabs open right now…

all these organic foods are actually made by the same people that make Heinz canned baked beans and chicklets.  CHICK-EH-LETS!  CHICK-EH-LETS! CHICK-EH-LETS!

It’s all complicated.  The organics game. Too complicated at least for this blond.  Like, for example, these organic companies HERE are actually owned by Hain Celestial who are in some cahoots with Heinz.

I mean, would I rather grow everything in my backyard and then have some cows and goats and chickens and make everything myself?  Well, I would not mind the garden.  But yeah, not ready to deal with the other stuff.  If I think about the fact that chicken pops an egg out of it’s ass, then I can’t really get the gumption to put an egg in my mouth.  And I am NOT going to touch anything that just came from a chicken ass.

So these big corporations that say that they only deal in organics are actually hanging out having big boy drinks and rubbing elbows with the “bad guys” who make chipped beef in a can.

Then I ask myself, why do I care?  I mean, I should.  I have children.  I make them put all this food in their mouth.

Do you?

And now I have to go clean my house and make dinner, do the homework and get Alpha to lacrosse practice.  So i’ll blow off thinking about this for now.  It’ll pop back into my steroid scrambled brain at 3:47am.  Mark my words.

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02
Dec
10

To top it all off…my underwear fell Down


I have ‘roid rage.

And I am surrounded by a virtual plethora of people who really do not care to deal with me at the moment.

I am having a problem dealing with even the small dose of prednisone that I am on for the next three months to help to get my RA in remission for a bit.  I am supposed to be picking out my new medications for all of this but I am so confused and overwhelmed and now manic and slovenly.  S’not pretty, ladies and gentlemen.  So I am ignoring it all and will instead tell you about how my undies fell down yesterday in the halls of a catholic school.

No, I am trying to share one of my weird dreams. No, I am not a total perv.  It was just part for the course of my ridiculously mentally exhausting day yesterday.

I was supposed to be helping out at a local high school to cast their spring musical last night.  They needed a vocal coach to help them in that department and I was happy to help, as I did last year.  But I made the commitment months ago and didn’t know that I would end up sick and feeling like the Son of Sam on crack.  It was too late to back out yesterday, but I really didn’t feel very up to the task at hand.

I had a horrible day of freaking out and crying over the littlest amounts of spilled milk and nothing was going right.  My holiday show sold out (a good thing) but trying to schedule an encore performance was stressful, so I was all hopped up on that drama for the afternoon.  I also had a hair appointment scheduled AFTER the auditions, to fix my nappy roots because I looked a lot like this

Seriously, it’s been months.

And I have 3 gigs this weekend, 2 of which are in WI at a 900 seat house each day and the girl need her hair did , yo.

So I had to be at, oh let’s call it, St.Mary Ingatious, Peter, Paul and All the Saints for Christ’s Sake’s Catholic school to help them right before 3pm and I can’t even concentrate my insane mind on getting ready and getting Cracker ready to go to the neighbors and I can’t find my keys and oh yeah, it’s snowing.  The first snow.  And a cold ass snow, to boot.  And I have Raynauds so I have two pairs of those cheap Walgreens gloves on, medication that I take at night for this and even after all of that, my extremities still look like dead hooker hands and I can’t turn the wheel.

I need to go through Starbucks, because, well, who wouldn’t in my condition and I am running late and I finally get to St.Mary Ingatious, Peter, Paul and All the Saints for Christ’s Sake’s Catholic school and of course school is just letting out.  I find a space and I am carrying my water and my coffee and my purse and some SF bread that I am literally shoving onto my my mouth because I (a) have roid rage hunger of a thousand mutant samurais and (2) I know I wont eat for hours.  I have crumbs stuck in my lip gloss, bad hair; a total disaster.  I am walking in high heel boots, which is totally insane because I can hardly WALK these days and as I get to the locked doors to the auditorium, I start to feel a strange sensation [not a good one] near my ass.

I kick, and punch and fall into the doors, hoping someone will help this poor woman, carrying all this crap and obviously dealing with some sort of steroid-induced haze.  But no.   I have to walk across, around and over 13 miles to the left of the 7th circle of the sun to get to an open door.  About half way, I realize that what is happening in my pants is that my underwear is falling down and I have not one loose little finger anywhere to get in and dig them out.  I know at this point that I have to go in and find the closest girls bathroom and STAT.  Please understand that while I am losing my skivvies, my pants are totally intact and I am absolutely not doing anything illegal. It is a total undergarment accident, completely unintentional and naked to the human eye.

Because I was late, I was entering the hallways, avec a full cup of coffee, as the BELL RINGS.  Holy Cannolli, here they all come!  Now I am a pinball.  A fat, sweaty, tardy, angry little pinball being bumped, shoved, pushed and trampled.  Some girl actually flipped her hair in my face and it tasted like coconut lotion.  Grody, people.  Just…come ON.

Do they not see me?  Do they not notice coffee dribbling from my arms, tears streaking down my face.  I am a woman, invisible.  Demented, directionally challenged and losing her underwear.

That’s right, OMG, My UNDERWEAR.

A perk of not being able to eat food anymore is that I have lost 25 pounds.  A non perk is that my granny panties don’t stay up anymore.

So now I am walking through the crowd, flung around like a blind lemming.  So paranoid that these poor innocent children might be able to tell through my skinny jeans that my underwear has fallen down and is hanging down in my pants on either side of my thighs.  It’s truly the worst feeling imaginable.  (If you are a girl and you have experienced that moment when you think you have gotten Aunt Flo and it’s noticeable to everyone in the world as you are walking around, you can relate to this feeling.)

OF COURSE they couldn’t tell.  OF COURSE they were not looking. OF COURSE they had no idea they were practically stepping on and closing hallway doors on one of the people that could guarantee that they were going to get the lead in the school play.  How would they know?

When I finally get to the auditorium, throw the rest of what is my coffee, purse, smushed bread and all my other crap on the table and find a bathroom where someone isn’t changing into their dance belt, I leap into a stall, hoist up my underwear, fold it over the top of my jeans and shove it under my belt, pull down my sweater, wipe a tear from my eye and get ready for battle.

Have underwear, will travel.

These poor kids.  They have no idea that there will be consequences now to them being unprepared for their audition.    They don’t realize that when they walk in with attitude and roll their eyes when I ask them to sing a song again, that I will actually be so roid-influenced, that they will piss me off.  I will recognize the shovey girl who made me eat her hair in hallway B.  I will write their name on the chorus list with a sharpie because they looked at me wrong.  They deserved a lead, maybe, but don’t give me that look, because I get it from you one more time, and you are going to be tree #3 on the left.  You got it, cookie?

None of this of course really happened. All the students was adorable, fantastic, thoughtful, professional, sweet and charismatic.  I treated them all fairly and with respect.  But in the padded cell that is my mind, it all went down the kooky way.  I actually love the woman who heads up the department and all the people working on the show and I wish I didn’t have so much going on because I would have absolutely loved to be a part of the whole process.  Talented kids, staff all around…some day I hope to do more of that,because it is so rewarding to me.

I finally made it to my hair appointment 30 minutes late.  Because of this, I had to wait another 40 minutes and I was still getting my hair done at 10:15pm. None of this matters, of course, because my hair looks friggen AWESOME.  And, also because there was some wine involved.

And now, kittens.  To bed…to lie there and stare at the walls, freak myself out and act like a crazy woman, all in the comfort of my bed.  Thank God for the Droid sleep app and a pair of ear buds.

UNDERGARMENT INCIDENTALS

I will confess that this was not the first time, but the THIRD time I have had a public problem with my underwear.  Ask my best friend…we will call her FraAllison.  She will tell you, alright.  Truth.

And I will share both of those incidents with you soon.

Until then, may you undies stay on, may your coffee not spill, may you not have to eat teenage, flat-ironed hair in a hallway and may you sleep like a baby.

XO




Heather Moran

Crazed sulfite-free woman.

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