You are flawed if you are not free

If you’re just tuning in, I see a trainer three Wednesdays out of the month and lately I have been blogging about my mishaps afterwards. Past blunders can be found here and here.

Believe it or not, I’m doing something right! My body fat went down by 3%. That might not seem like a lot, but when your hobbies consist of sleeping, sitting in front of a computer and eating, 3% is a pretty big damn deal. I am mere points away from being labeled “athletic.” I can smell it. I can actually see my abs, not just the layer of fat that lingers on top of them! How flippin awesome is that?! Oh! And, hold on, watch me flex…grrrr….feel that bicep. Don’t go all jaws of life like my mom did when I told her to grab it.

Sadly I don’t have any screw up stories to share. I was on top of my game and did four reps of 15-20 rather than just 3 of 15. I eat bicep curls for dinner and planks for dessert. I totally wanted to walk up to the biggest guy there and stand next to him while flexing every muscle in my tiny body while asking how he’s doin’. Yeah…that’s all muscle baby…

Dear Jenn,

Hey, it’s me. No. Not Jiminy Cricket. I’m that third voice of yours. Guilt and anger took a vay-cay day and I’m all that’s left here. I’ve been taking a back seat to those two for a couple weeks now and I have to be honest with you, I’m not liking it. At all. Guilt is always moping around with its head hanging low. It’s all like “Eh, should I do this or that? I feel this way, but I’m not sure. Oh maybe I’ll whine some more. Do you think I should get my own blog?” I can’t take it! Then Anger is all like, “What the eff?! This is not a Super F-word Yeah day! Who changed the channel? I’m trying to watch my stories and Guilt won’t shut up! I swear to the spirit of Elvis that I am going to punch you in the eye Guilt. With a brick!”

See what I mean? So it’s nice having a break from those guys. Between the wallowing and the screaming, I’ve had very little opportunity to put in my two cents (and play Rock Band).

Whatcha doing there? Not really sticking to that whole “please don’t contact me” thing are you? Do you really think that’s the best idea? You seem to be struggling with it a bit. Slacker. Okay I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. I’m just worried that you’re not taking the best care of yourself.

No, no. I know you work out. (I’m not really sure you can call this working out). That’s not what I mean. I’m talking emotionally. You’re not letting yourself heal, or even feel for that matter. You’re pushing back memories and really repressing a lot of thoughts. I kind of want you to cry a bit. Now that you’re talking to him you need to remember that things aren’t the same. He’s not The Boyfriend anymore. This is why you wanted to take that communication break, so you could detach yourself from The Boyfriend and later on, welcome a friend.

I don’t like where this is going and I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt again. Please be careful. I can’t clean up after Anger and you. Need I mention the cat on the TV debacle?

Okay so you’re crying now….I didn’t mean at work. Damnit I really need a raise. I’m going to play Rock Band now. Keep your chin up, kay? Stop it! I know you played Rock Band with him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play it!

Whatever crazy lady,
Your third voice.

EDIT: I need to clarify something. I DO NOT have Rock Band. My third voice in it’s imaginary home has an imaginary Rock Band. So, for all of you who said “Keep playing!” I only wish I could. Sorry for the confuzzledness.

A little over two years ago I started carrying a note with me inside of my wallet. I keep it behind my license - just in case. In case for what? Well, in case something happens to me and I’m unable to talk.

I keep it tucked between my license and body donor ID card. I figured those would be the two cards people would want to see most - unless somebody was robbing my unconscious body. Not cool people, not cool. Some may call me paranoid or morbid, but I like to think of it as being prepared. Death doesn’t scare me as much as not being able to say goodbye. And having so many people I care about in other states, I realized that I would never know if something happened to them.

At the time I wrote this, the boyfriend and I were, well I guess we were always in different states. He was in Boston and I was in Chicago. I wanted someone to be able to tell him if something happened to me. So I made sure to include his name, phone number and a small message for him in my note. I wrote that I loved him before I told him. I knew that I would some day. I also included one for my best friend Dan, giving him my cats, and my parents. I figure these are the immediate people who would need to know, they can spread the word from there.

But now that I’m looking at it, I wonder if I should update it. Do I keep the ex-boyfriend on there? Do I still want who ever finds it to know that I love him and that he needs to take breaks and live his life? Am I really sure that I don’t want to say something more along the lines of “Thanks for breaking my heart?” No no, I don’t want to do that.

I’m curious how often I should update this note. Who do I put on it? Should I leave my blog info so my mom can notify my blogger friends of my unfortunate demise? When writing a message to those I do include on the note, what do I say? It’s difficult thinking of your last words to somebody.

What would you say? Do any of you carry these “just in case” notes with you?

Fun websites: Annette from What’s That has shared a pretty fun blog find with her readers. Check out Reasons Why I Dumped You. PB & Razz recommends using Mint to keep track of your spending and help budget better. Quirkology recommends using Swap-bot to scratch your swapping needs!

Cool finds: Angilio found Cakesicles. Holy Vataha found the Buddha Bowl. I really want one in green.

Send good vibes to: Nicole Antoinette, Confessions of a Jersey Girl and Ex Everything. They can use some extra Internet love this week.

In case you haven’t heard, the lovely Binary Blonde is preggers! Send her some good vibes as well!

Those who didn’t win my PIF contest can try their luck again! Amanda and The Glitter Kid are hosting their own contests! They’re fantastic bloggers so be sure to check out the rest of their blogs while you’re there entering their contest Good luck!!

The lovely ladies at Two Jews Review have reviewed Jen Lancaster’s new book, “Such A Pretty Fat.” If you haven’t read the book, what are you waiting for?

Is anyone else wondering where Val (Life of a Valley Girl) has gone? Fabulously Broke in the City shared a letter from Val with her readers.

Chelsea Talks Smack and Nico talk about their truths. What’s yours?

JusLisen share a brilliant article about the quarter-life crisis

Can you type a creative story in only 140 characters? Try it and enter CopyBlogger’s Twitter contest.

Last but not least: Brainy Jane shares her shallow, but necessary, summer survival tips.

In honor of winning a Pay It Forward contest, I decided to switch things up and hold my very own SFY (Super F-word Yeah) Contest using pictures drawn in Paint. I have to say that I was very impressed with everyone’s Paint skillz. There was definitely one that made me giggle like a school girl, but before I get to the winners, I wanted to share all of the pictures. I’m sorry, I don’t know everyone’s blog links. Some of you are new readers so I haven’t been able to match up your email address with your blog just yet. So forgive me if I don’t link to you!

Car Heaven by Binary Blonde

Deutlich

Grocery Bag by Elisabeth

Miss You in Otown by Leigh

Nutty Cow

Race for the Cure by Hazel

Slippin’ down the hill by Curlysue

Angilio

Trolls by Jims Muse

Tucked in by Lacey

TV by Elizabeth

How did I select the winners you ask? Well first I did pick a favorite. She knows me pretty well as a blogger it seems because the picture is very SFY. I also had my grandpa and grandma draw names to pick the other two winners.

My favorite:

Gretch-a-sketch

I know it’s small, but it has a picture of J.D. from Scrubs saying some very J.D.-like phrases. They made me laugh

G’folks picks:

Emily

The Struggling Writer

Thanks to everyone who submitted a drawing! I had so much fun looking at your pictures and reading the stories that go along with them. Perhaps I’ll do this again in the future. Winners, please email me your addresses so I can send along your Target gift cards!

Here are this week’s favorites from PostSecret

That would be me.

I chose this one for two reasons: 1. I lived in Olney, home of the white squirrel, for nearly two years. Very exciting. 2. A small piece of my heart wishes this was written for me.

How very true…

This morning my mom and I did a little shopping for her garden. We went to Jewel to pick up some potting soil. If you don’t live here, know that once spring hits, Jewel transforms a good section of their parking lot into a green house (at least the Jewel by my house does). So we’re driving down an aisle, stuck behind some guy who stopped right in front of the car to fold up his receipt and put it in his pocket. Once he passes, we notice a car coming from the other direction. Well, she wasn’t moving, she was just stopped in the aisle. There was on parking spot between us. You know where this is going…

My mom turns on her blinker and doesn’t move, awaiting the other cars move. The other car does nothing. No blinker, no move. So my mom pulls into the spot. We park, exit the car and begin walking toward the greenhouse (which is really white). As we’re looking at prices, we hear a woman talking. At first I didn’t know she was talking to my mom. I wish I caught on sooner because I had some words that I would have liked to share with her. As she drove by she thought it would be real mature to yell out her window “Thanks for the parking spot bitch!”

And because I’m oozing with maturity, had I known she was talking to us, I would have included these words in my reply back to her:

Douche, ass hat, your mom, your face is stupid, go suck a lemon you lint licker! And last but not least, because I’m polite, you’re welcome.

1. No one calls my mom a bitch.
2. If you’re going to take a spot, take it. Don’t sit motionless in the middle of an aisle for 20 seconds. Turn on a blinker, honk your horn, move! Do something to let other cars know that you want that spot.
3. Don’t continue waiting until we walk out of the car to say something from the comfort of your driver’s seat as we walk by. If you’re going to call us a bitch, have the balls to get out of the car and say it to our faces, not our backs.
4. Bitch? Really? Is that the best you could come up with? Look at the colorful things I wanted to say to you. Put some effort into it!

On top of that, oh yes, there’s more. I’m at Target waiting to get a prescription filled. I’m behind a man who obviously doesn’t not speak English. After hearing his name, I assume that he’s polish…not that it really matters.

The pharmacist asks how he spells his name. He continued telling her what his name was. Yes sir, we know your name. Now spell it. He just stared at her smiling, completely not understanding a word she was saying.

I’m sorry, but I’m a firm believer that if you’re going to live here, at least try to learn the English language. Nothing bothers me more than people who deliberately don’t try to understand what people are saying to them. I don’t see why my ATM should come in 9 different languages. Why should a box of tampons have 9 different languages on them? Learn English! At least learn enough so you know when someone is asking you to spell your extremely complicated sounding name!

Lint licker!

A little tidbit of background info: I have been seeing the same therapist for about six years. I’m not crazy or suffer from an incurable addiction. I actually am very emotionally healthy and going to therapy every month ensures that I stay that way. I viewed our relationship as a bit more than just a therapist and patient. No I wasn’t in love with him. Dr. Dude (not his real name) was a really good friend (who got paid) to listen to me talk about my life for an hour an fifteen minutes twice a month. When I lived in other states, we’d talk on the phone. He was quite possibly one of the biggest supporters in my life.

With that said, he broke up with me last night. I got the whole, “Before we start, there’s something we should talk about.” You’re a therapist. You can’t lessen the blow a bit more? I guessed that he was moving. Damn! I hate it when I’m right! Instead of getting upset I laughed hard. After finding out a bit more information about his trip, I told him why I found this so funny. My boyfriend and I just broke up because he’s moving to Iceland and can’t carry on a relationship with me. Now, another male in my life, is breaking up with me because he’s moving out west. Ironic much?

The worst part of it all is that Dr. Dude said I inspired his move. Is that a sly way of saying I’m too crazy for him?! No. It’s not. I’ve been known on occasion to pick up my bags and move on a whim. He said that after watching me move to Macomb, then Utah, then Olney, he decided to stop being afraid and take a risk. Well that’s great that I’m inspiring him and all, but what he doesn’t realize is that I moved back! Ah ha! He’ll be back

Anyway, I’ve come up with a list of things you can do when your therapist breaks up with you:

1. Ask if you’re being Punk’d. Then I remembered that he’s probably too old to know what Punk’d is. I was hoping it was a belated April Fool’s Day joke, but it wasn’t.

2. Bribe him. Offer to wash his car or feed his cat.

3. Suddenly develop an out-of-the-blue case of paranoia, dementia, schizophrenia or OCD. This will make him worry too much about you to leave. Unfortunately, having a clean bill of mental health doesn’t allow for such examples of insanity on my part.

4. Grab onto his leg and don’t let go.

5. Lay on the guilt. Hard. Remind him that your last relationship is still a very sore wound for you and his breakup is only rubbing salt in it. He will now be the reason you stop trusting men and become a lesbian. Helloooo laaaadies! Seriously…no more peenur. All because of you Dr. Dude.

6. Cry. Call your mom. And sing “All By Myself” on the car ride home.

7. Denial.

Guess which one I chose? My therapist didn’t break up with me? I’m seeing him in three weeks. Everything will be oooooookay. (I’m actually not okay with this. At all. I do have another session with him in 3 weeks, but that will be our last one. This is sad.)

P.S. I am NOT a fan of the men in my life right now.

Boobies.

Other alternative titles:
There’s no crying in therapy!
What do you mean it’s me, not you?!
Seven steps to abandonment issues.

That creepy kid from The Sixth Sense must be sending me lucky vibes because I’ve won another Pay It Forward contest! Since I just held one of my own (your packages have been mailed folks!) I wanted to spice things up a bit. Instead of just commenting and hoping I draw your name on one of the delightfully-colored post-its I own, I’m going to make you work for your prize!

I want to see your mad paint skillz. The last few weeks I have painted a purdy picture to go with my vending machine woes or ridiculous gym tales. I’d like to see a picture that goes along with one of your blog tales. If you don’t have a story that could easily benefit from a picture, make something up. Draw the Paint version of yourself. Imagine what it would be like if you had to balance on a giant exercise ball while lifting weights.

It does not have to be perfect. I don’t expect anyone to channel Monet or van Gogh. Just be creative and have fun. Oh, and uh, don’t draw a stick figure flippin’ me the bird.

I will give you until Saturday night to get your photo to me. You can email me at freeandflawed [at] gmail [dot] com (unless you have my other email address!) I will select my three favorites and send those bloggers a Target gift card and maybe another little treat.

Mac users, I heard once upon a time that you do not have Paint on your computers. Is there another program you could use to create a little something-something? If not, to be fair, I might need to rethink this contest. Don’t rain on my parade!

Update: Ah ha! So there is no Paint on Macs; however, a littler birdy told me about Paintbrush. It’s a free download for Mac users who would like to participate. It’s very much like Paint.

… I miss you.

When I’m not busy making an ass out of myself at the gym or utilizing my awesome paint skillz, I’m also an advice columnist in my mind. Today, I’m thinking outside of the box and bringing that magic gift to F&F.

(First I’ll talk about myself) Despite the amount of money I spend, I am not a shopper. I do not enjoy shopping all that much. I get tired and cranky and end up wasting money on something I don’t need (i.e. matching purse and wallet - for the record, they’re awesome.) Need a new TV? Computer? Phone? I’m your gal! Want to buy new shoes or a cute dress? Yeah, not so much. I am particularly uninterested in shopping for clothes. My relationship with wardrobe shopping has been a tumultuous one. I can’t tell Gucci apart from Prada. I don’t even know what or who Fendi is. Polka dots and stripes? Clash? No way. I cannot dress myself so pray to the lord you never need my opinion on anything but books, music, or technology.

I am one of those girls with a small frame. I’m 5′1 (I like to round up thanks) and weigh slightly more than a pillow….stuffed with bricks. Anyway. I’m small okay? But I also have tits and hips ahoy! I’m a mythical creature in the eyes of designers. I am their unicorn. It is impossible for me to find pants that fit comfortably around my hips that aren’t too long. Tits ahoy prevent me from wearing a button down shirt because most pop open. If I buy one big enough to wrap around the boobalies, then it looks like my torso is swimming in it. So I just don’t like it. Shopping + Me = Disaster.

(Watch me segue this into an advice post)

The other day Binary Blonde commented on my post in which I mentioned that I shopped like a chick (when it comes to food). Here is her comment:

I noticed you didn’t have any clothes in your shopping cart. Do you like to shop for clothes? ‘Cause I hate it. Always hated it and I suspect I always will. And now that I have to buy a whole new wardrobe to accommodate my baby bump, it’s making me crazy having to shop for maternity clothing. Any tips to make shopping less hellish? HALP!

Dear Binary Blonde,

You are correct. There were no clothes in my shopping cart. I have a love/hate relationship with clothes. I love looking at them, but my body hates wearing them. Perhaps I should consider a nudist lifestyle? Everything is better sans pants in my opinion. Anyway, I’m convinced the trying-on process is a waste of time because no matter how good you look in the fitting room mirror, some where between the time you pay for them and try them on again at home, they shrink, tear or completely deform your ass/boobs/hips. Don’t even get me started on bras!

My advice to you:

Make someone else shop for you. Avoid the lines, abandoned shopping carts and rude fitting room attendants. No muss, no fuss.

What? You can’t afford a personal shopper (who can?!)? And you’re preggers? Well that rules out getting drunk first!

My real advice:

1. Plan ahead. Pick a day to go shopping when you know you have nothing else to do. Don’t go if all you want to do is be outside playing in the garden. For us non-shoppers it actually takes some effort to go shopping. We can’t be distracted by the list of things we could be doing at home instead. If you go there feeling crummy, the experience won’t be a good one.

2. Budget. Make a list of what it is you need. This will limit the time you spend wandering aisle after aisle and getting boxed in by the little old lady and her shopping cart. You won’t feel as overwhelmed when you get to the store either. You’ll know what you want and head in the that direction. This can also help your wallet so you don’t go over board. No, you don’t *need* the matching socks.

3. Baby steps. Limit your time in one store. If you don’t enjoy being in stores, don’t plan on spending your whole day in one. Plan to spend an hour shopping one day and hit up another store another day. You don’t have to buy for the next nine months right now.

4. Have fun. Go with someone who really loves to shop, but make sure to explain to that person that they are there to help you, not themselves. Stick to your time limit. Those shoppers tend to wander off and lose you in the world of hangers, racks and shopping carts. Make a game out of it if you want. Find the most obnoxious outfits and prance around the fitting room. Laughter helps every situation

5. Stay open minded. I know that it’s difficult trying on clothes and getting frustrated with the way they fit, or don’t fit. Keep in mind that your body is changing for a good reason and not because you ate cheetos for dinner. Find something that will make you feel beautiful and complement your glowing face.

If all of this fails, you can always make togas out of bed sheets. I won’t judge.

Also, please keep in mind that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing or talking about 92 percent of the time

That cats eyes really freak me out

Last week I was asked to review the Nokia N95 8GB. This week I have the phone in my hot little hands. Please check Must Love Geek for updates about the phone. Currently: First Impressions. It’s not every day I’m asked to play with an awesome phone, so please take a looksie

If you missed my post the other day, the Blogger’s Choice Awards are currently in progress. Must Love Geek was nominated. If I get 50 votes I promise to save puppies! Other fantastic bloggers have been nominated. Go show Chris and Ben some support! Many thanks to those who have already voted!

Amelia Grazia and I were separated at birth. Notify the presses! She makes delicious cupcakes, I like eating delicious cupcakes. See the similarities? We’re practically sisters or soul mates!

Submit your picture and link and be part of Schmutzie’s Collection of Spectacles!!! Yay for chicks (and gents) with glasses! Also check out Five Star Friday. Yours truly was featured!

Thanks oh so much to Laura for featuring Scrabble furniture! How freaking adorable?!

Chicago bloggers, have you joined the Chicago Bloggers Group on 20SB? You should have by now! I promise I’ll get the date for the Cupcake Crawl posted soon!

Julie from Wtf have I done? is celebrating three years of blogging. Go wish her happiness and protection from carpal tunnel syndrome!

Larissa is giving away an autographed coloring book to one lucky reader. Tell her about your dream vacation to enter! I love coloring books!

I’ve been coming across a lot of new blogs lately (hi all!) and I have to say I think I found my hero today. Damn I wish I had her sarcastic wit!

Recommended reading:
Pete
Kt
Meghan
The Glitter Kid
The Non Runner
Angela

Scene: Cafe at work. My nose is pressed up against the glass panel of a vending machine while my hands bang on the sides.

If you were to walk into the cafe at this moment you would hear me softly whining, “Nooooooo! Take my change! Why hath thou forsaken me?!” Last week the vending machine did not accept dollars. This was a bit upseting as I usually don’t have much change on me. This week, after planning ahead, I brought exactly 55 cents with me. That delicious bag of SunChips has been waiting for me for days now. I go downstairs, gently greet the machine with a “hello beautiful” and as I slide my hands over the glass, I notice a sign.

“Does not accept change.”

Noooooooooooooooooooo! But I have 55 cents! I have no dollars! Why are you toying with me? I could hear it laugh at me as I walked away. I sulked back to my desk. My wounds ached as I cried mini tears of sadness. A tear fell onto my lips and as I licked it off, I remembered the saltiness of the chips I could be eating right now.

I’m convinced my office needs an “in case of emergency” box. In it: a crisp dollar bill, four quarters, ten dimes, twenty nickels, a granola bar, toilet paper and a band-aid.

Wait. How many nickels go into a dollar? 5 multiplied by 5 is 25…so….20? Why is this so difficult! Damn you vending machine you stole my logic!!

“The champ, by a long shot, is Jenn… the cupcake-loving Chicagoan with the adorable glasses, impressive wit and apparently hyperactive fingers. She turned out an astonishing 47 posts. My best calendar month ever was 36, and I have gone over 30 only four or five times. Not only did she write that much, but it was largely entertaining and substantial.”

- Accidentally Me in reference to the number of posts in a month.

I’m going to take this opportunity to do a happy dance. Not that I’m trying to win some blogging contest, but I love her description of me A LOT! Hyperactive fingers! Dancing phalanges!! Thanks for making me giddy

Today I have learned:

That customer service is bad everywhere.

My grandparents are pre-paying their funeral (hello, morbid). A few months ago a payment was lost. My grandma was complaining about the service there and said “now we won’t be able to die!” She looks at me for support or some type of agreement. What did she expect me to say to that? “Oh crap, now I’ll never get the house?” No!

No matter how much I try not to spend money, money will throw itself out of my wallet/bank account and disguise itself as something in a plastic bag in my room.

I shop like a chick. Items in Jenn’s shopping cart today: A copy of US Weekly, two boxes of tampons (I like to stock up, thank you), 10 Luna bars, a package of m&m and chocolate chip cookies, a 13-pack of hangers, strawberry bagels and two boxes of popcorn (one buttered, one healthy choice).

I really enjoy post cards. I just received one from someone in Japan. That’s my first card from Japan. The Missus also sent me one from London. Going some where awesome? Want to send me a postcard? Do it.

No matter how much money I am saving, taxes and fees will always amount to more than the amount you save.

The hotel that Peter and I usually stay at is apparently bitter about the break up as well. A room that usually costs me $80 a night now costs $213. Why the big difference Hilton Garden Inn?

I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing at any given period in time. It may look like I do to the untrained eye, but look closely and you’ll notice an “oh shit!” look on my face. It’s often hidden behind the “Yeeeaaaah…I rule” and “Mmmm m&ms” face.

I spent more money today than I would have earned if I had been at work. This three-days a week bullshit is costing me money! It’s obvious why I need those other two days to be spent at work. You can only buy so much in a vending machine.

Songs about vacuums can be quite touching ::snif::

I’ll take two please.

Click here to find out how to enter.
If any of you win, I get a 50% finders fee.