Why I eat processed foods

I am finally embracing the notion that I need to stop eating a box of Krispy Kremes for dinner and perhaps find some foods with nutrients, aka not foodstuffs. I headed over to Trader Joe’s and bought blackberries. Delicious, antioxidant laden blackberries. Yum. I washed them in my haphazard way and set to eating them while perched upon the yellow couch. Four berries in, I look at the fruit and notice a wee little white speck. What could that be? Squinting, and holding the berry close to my face, I see it wiggle and flip the frak out.

I ran into the kitchen to throw the offending blackberry away. I gathered the rest and faced a dilemma. I just spent four bucks on these treats. Am I going to be undone by a little worm? I hemmed and hawed and bit and finally opted to soak the berries in water. Perhaps I could drown those little bastards and then resume my enjoyment. I looked into the water and a single worm wiggled its way to the surface. I watched as it squirmed, wishing it a horrible death. I let the berries soak for hours. When I returned home from my improv class, I reinvestigated. No new worms, and the floating worm seemed to have passed from this world into the next. I went to bed, leaving the berries free to release any other prisoners they may be harboring.

This morning, I went to parole the worms (into the garbage disposal) and I realized that my willpower is not enough to overcome a long standing phobia of worms. Discovering that wee little worm, after eating a couple of blackberries, was enough to make me itchy and imaginative all afternoon. I could see the worms growing in my body, until they finally grew to the point at which they needed to come out. They would surface through my skin anywhere they happened to be and I would become the freak worm faced girl. No thanks.

Kripsy Kremes don’t have worms.

Theatre sports make me a better sport

I want to get back into acting. It was a passion of my youth that I allowed to get away. Truth be told, I simply was not prepared to be successful back then. Don't honestly know if I am prepared now. But I want to give it a whirl. As I say to my friends, if I fail, I want to fail spectacularly. That way I won't wonder what could have been in my future days.

Tonight I joined an awesome group for improv games. It was my first time, and they have been practicing for a while. I had so much fun, though I recognized a couple of my own short comings. We did a game that involves singing songs. I didn't realize before how much my fear of singing in front of people affects me. Apparently I get so blocked that I can't even think of lyrics to nursery rhymes. To get through the game I had to be fed the lyrics to Mary Had A Little Lamb. (It's true).

By the end of the evening, I felt comfortable with the group. What a great place to try out new material. I am so excited to see where my involvement with this group leads!

Afterwards, two of my group mates and I went for drinks and spoke about our hopeful career path trajectory. Just in that brief time, the idea I have for a sitcom was elevated immensely. It is so vital to have a group of like-minded people around you that help you fully realize your dream (and you theirs). I am wildly grateful.

Buggie... you need to write more

I love Britney. I know that may not be kosher, but I don't care. I love her. I do not love having a ten year old singing "womanizer, womanizer. You're a womanizer" etc... to me. It's weird.

I also love Pink and it is the best news in the world to me that she and Carey Hart are back together.

I watch Chelsea Lately, The Soup and Best Week Ever. I do not watch the news. I am very versed in pop culture. I have no idea what is going on with the Taliban, the national deficit, or Somalian pirates. I do know that Lindsay and Sam broke up.

You know, I get all caught up in myself with this blog sometimes. I want to write with substance. Truth be told. I am not completely substantive. (Is that a word?)

My mother complains that I do not update enough. Well. She is right (write). I am updating, but in a completely self-indulgent way. This post is entirely for me. It is to remind me that this is MY blog and I can write whatever I want to. So if I am hung up on Britney and I wanna write about her, I can. MY BLOG. Mine!

I have no point here. I suppose I am just writing to remind myself of the reason I started this whole thing. It began as an outlet for my random thoughts. Every now and again I get caught up in the idea that my random thoughts should be meaningful. Truth is... most of my thoughts revolve around the most simple and goofy things, and there is nothing wrong with that.

The end... for now....

Octomom, bringing the world together

I was buying ice cream at the grocery store the other day and watching an extremely slow woman placing her goods on the conveyor belt before me. She was talking on the phone to someone who no doubt was very exciting and important, about things that would definitely eventually come to light as the very steps we need to follow in order to procure world peace.

Her daughter was reaching over the grocery cart, not to help unload it, but rather to grab a tabloid with a blurb about the Octo-mom. She gasped in pleasure and yanked the glossy from its place amongst Jennifer Aniston/John Mayer stories and waved it at her mother. The headline blared that some babies may be taken away from the Octo-mom. The two quietly high fived each other (so as not to disturb mom’s important phone call) and the child spent the rest of her time in line examining the cover picture and caption with delight.

Really? I mean, yes I get caught up in pop culture references too, but high fiving? What do their conversations sound like over the dinner table? And does that mom ever get off the phone?