Accountability

Here's what I had to eat today:

• large glass low-acid, no-pulp orange juice
• black tea (w/ honey & milk)
• english muffin (w/ butter)
• iced grande no-whip mocha
• small brownie
• bowl of Ben & Jerry's One Cheesecake Brownie ice cream

Then I had a protein bar and ran 2 miles.

And I wonder why I can't lose weight.

Discoveries

I have discovered that when all three of us are home all day - one of us earning a respectful living, one of us home from school sick with a cold, and one of us puttering around trying to discern her ultimate purpose in life - we generate one entire tall kitchen garbage bag of trash a day. I am not proud of this fact. In fact, I now feel personally responsible for the melting ice caps.

I have also discovered that there are some pretty whacked out commercials on daytime television. Like does anybody really believe that an ELEPHANT can be married TO A CENTIPEDE? I mean, what ad agency came up with that nonsense? And that Jaime Lee Curtis ad where she touts the yogurt that will make you regular in 14 days, and she says, "You're gonna love how the story ends!" is she actually getting excited about a bowel movement? Because I realize that she's at the age where she does in fact start to look forward to her bowel movements, and then shares the details of them with the people around her, but I would think she'd be above actually going on TV to talk about them.

I have also discovered that the actors and characters on "Young & the Restless" and "Bold & the Beautiful" are interchangeable. You could actually call the shows "Young & Bold" if you wanted or "Restless & Beautiful." Or "Restless & Bold" or "Young & Beautiful." Or any number of exponential combinations. The only problem with all this interchanging is that sometimes they play the same characters, and sometimes they don't. So even though that appears to be Y&R's Ashley and Victoria fighting over Storm's gun on B&B, it is actually Ashley and Katie. Because Eileen Davidson continues to be Ashley, who has simply traveled out to LA for a while, but Heather Tom is no longer Victoria. They have a new Vicky on Y&R. Heather Tom is now Katie Logan on B&B. So confusing, right?

One Soap Opera Rule that has yet to be broken in all the years I've been watching daytime dramas, and that has recently been proven yet again by Lily Winters on Y&R, is that 'Good' girls do not terminate pregnancies. If they are really good, and the pregnancy is really, really inconvenient, like say, if it's going to kill their blossoming modeling career, they will miscarry anyway. But only after they've made the heart-wrenching decision to actually have the baby.

Lastly, I have this SAH tip: When Kathie Lee & Hoda go racing for the plaza, it is time to switch the TV over to Gilmore Girls on ABC Family.

Well, well...here we are YET AGAIN.

I can't begin to tell you how much I hate trying to find a swimsuit. Not for the reasons you think - unflattering florescent lights, cottage cheese thighs, saggy boobs. No, I just hate trying to find a damn suit. WHERE ARE THEY?? You can find just about anything on the internet but try to buy a swimsuit online and you seriously have like seven choices. That's it. Seven suits. No more, no less. Pick one, it's all we got.

The frustration is that I know what I want. This. I want this suit. Also? While I'm placing my order, I'd like this bikini bod, too, please.

What do you mean you don't like my suit? I will cut a bitch!

*Ahem* Back to reality. Let's look at some similar suits I found online. I like this color, and the halter top, but it's just too small overall. The bottoms are too low and the top is never gonna hold my girls.

You pretty much have to have the body of a 15-year-old (or a mannequin) to look good in this suit.

Love, love LOVE these bottoms because they have that little scuba belt thingy (like Halle's). I have a feeling they're pretty low-cut though. And the suit doesn't even COME in a solid.

You know your bikini is skimpy when your hair is bigger than your suit.

Look, THIS is what I wore to the beach last year:

That's a MOM suit if I ever saw one.

Because I was fat. And this was somewhat flattering. But I was completely miserable. It was really HOT. Like holy-shit-what-is-with-all-this-heavy-material-wrapped-around-my-midsection??-hot. I think that, up until then, the last time I wore a one-piece was maybe when I was pregnant? So after a week in this thing last year, I vowed then and there that I wouldn't go back to the beach in a one-piece.

And my body definitely looks better this year since I've been running, although I still have a way to go and that's okay because it's like two months until we take our vacation so there's still time. Likewise, I have no delusions of ever making it into that top bikini because hello? I AM 41. Not 14.

Spiegel has some pretty decent (in the modest sense of the word) suits and they're pretty reasonably priced, too. This one is $39 and I'm pretty sure the "brooch" is detachable. It's not that the embellishment looks that bad, so much as "brooch" and "bikini" are two words that should NEVER be in the same sentence.

The bottoms are still a little small for my taste. But Spiegel also has swim separates, which is always a good option in bikinis.

If you're going to purchase a swimsuit online, I recommend that you order several, try them on and return the ones you don't want. If you find a style you like, order it in a couple sizes. You know what it's like in a dressing room; you KNOW how many frogs you have to kiss. So don't expect it to be any different purchasing online. The only difference is you get to try them on in privacy, behind your own closed bedroom door.

I'm thinking of vacuuming in heels and pearls. Just for shits & giggles.

Oh hello there. You're still here? I've almost forgotten about you what with all the excitement going on in my life. /sarcasm. More likely, I'm completely uninspired to write because the highlight of my day is loading my furry child into the convertible and returning hangers to the dry cleaners.

Tomorrow I have plans to drop off some old paperbacks at the library for their upcoming book sale and pick up some prescriptions from Walgreens.

Yesterday I cooked a pot roast for dinner. Are you sufficiently convinced that I have aged 30 years in the last week or shall I go on?

I am reading a lot. Only I can't afford to actually BUY books. So today I went to the library by my house and you know how many of my "To Read" books they stock? ONE. There are two more at the Central library and another one at the Barlett branch which isn't too far from here so I figure I'm good for a week. Then I'll start...IDK, watching movies or something.

Big Daddy suggested that if I could get a contract gig sometime between now and the 4th of July that would greatly help to offset the beach vacation that's already booked. Right after he suggested that I could still contribute to the family by PREPARING MEAL PLANS.

Ya'll, I am really not good at this stay-at-home thing.

All A Little Bit Shook Up

So there was an earthquake on the New Madrid Fault early this morning! Like 6.5 on the Richter scale! We all slept through it but Big Daddy said he felt it. I'm so bummed. I checked around the house and nothing's fallen over. No knick-knacks out of place.

I remember when I was a kid I saw this episode of "Lou Grant" which I guess took place somewhere in California? Because they were expecting "The Big One" to hit and when the predicted time came, everyone in the press room is standing around in doorways or hiding out under desks. I remember thinking, "A DOORWAY? WTF is a doorway? How is THAT going to help you?" Then my sister (or maybe my dad) explained to me how doorways are structurally one of the most sound places in a building or some such nonsense that frankly still didn't sound all that convincing to me.

I've never actually wanted to experience an earthquake. Frankly, they always kind of scared me. Because where do you go when you feel the Earth. Move. Under your feet? But a slight little shaking? While I laid in bed? That would've been kinda cool.

Sidewalk Poet

Today on my run I found a note on the sidewalk. Of sorts.

It went on for over two blocks. I'm not sure if it's song lyrics or perhaps we have a poet in our neighborhood. A sidewalk poet.

We watched blue birds dive into the yellow sky
Like Cheerios into a yellow bowl
I loved God only for the birds
She loved nothing and no-one[sic]
Fine Except. Accept.
Anyway, my mother is calling.
She sees the light of hope.
I hung up before saying how much I missed her being sane.
Tomorrow I'm flying to somewhere
I can't tell where or when I'll land.
My shuttle will reach its hub any moment now.
Taking a bag from under the seat I made my way to the dock.
Like a blue bird, the rocket dives into the sky.

Tramps like us, baby, we were born to run

I tried something a little different with my running this week.

I had been on a pretty good schedule running after work on Mondays and Wednesdays, and on Saturday mornings. Being home, I'm having a hard time finding any kind of schedule. For one thing, because I'm not really eating regularly or even all that well.

Plus, I've been kind of stuck on the 25-minute run. It's been really hard for me and I haven't been able to increase my time and ultimately get to that 30-min run. Instead of feeling great like I used to after running, I was feeling completely beat. So I was kind of unmotivated to run.

Then I saw these photos of myself and my fat fucking face and suddenly the thought of bikini season and the July 4th beach trip w/ friends motivated the hell out of me. So I went for a run Tuesday.

But I did something different. Instead of turning on my Workout playlist of hard-driving, beat-heavy new-punk-slash-new-grunge songs that I typically run to, I turned on ABBA. And instead of running my usual route, I ran down a long, flat street in my neighborhood that goes down to a lake. And I looked at what time I started running, then I just ran until I got tired. I didn't have my regular playlist or landmarks to indicate to me how far along I was. I just ran til I got tired, and then I pushed myself for 2 more minutes. It ended up totaling 20 minutes. Which I was completely satisfied with.

Then I stretched, drank some gatorade, and went inside and threw away the Couch to 5K running program that's been on my refrigerator since January.

Red Heels on the Red Carpet

Here's a picture of Faith Hill wearing my shoes at some Country Music awards show or some such.

(For the record, I had no intention of wearing them to dress up like Sandy from Grease.)

Public Service Announcement-slash-Shameless Plug

We're getting ready to start an HTML newsletter over at iDiva. If you will be kind enough to allow me to clog up your inbox with this fun weekly missive from me, please send your email address to kalisah [at] gmail [dot] com so I can add you to the distribution list. Please put 'iDiva newsletter' in the subject line. Thanks!

#1 Rule of Conversation: When faced with an awkward silence, you can always talk about SHOES

Lys was kind enough to suggest that instead of basketball and joblessness, we could talk about SHOES! Which I think is a fabulous idea.

I have these black platform pumps that I bought a couple seasons ago from Aldo. I like the way they look but I hate the shoes themselves. They've never been comfortable and they've not held up well. They basically look like this, which is apparently this year's update to the shoe I have:

(Sorry it's so small, but in addition to the quality of their shoes being sucky, their web site isn't exactly winning any awards either.)

Since I need to replace them anyway, I've decided I want a similar pair but with a slingback for summer. I say that like I can just go out and buy them now that I know what I want. When in reality, it may take weeks of shopping locally and online to finally find what I'm looking for.

So let's start top-of-the-line, pie-in-the-sky, epitome-of-the-ultimate-shoe shoe, the Louboutins (pre-order for $930 from Saks):

Man, those shoes totally make me want to lick their face. I love them so much I want to marry them.

Returning now to the Real World, I found these 9Wests ($79 at Macy's but just $58.99 if you ACT NOW!!):

Which are okay. They look a little clunky to me. I think I would've made the strap a little thinner and the platform a little shorter. Plus, I've had 9W shoes before and frankly...ehh.

So for now I'm setting my sights on these (Banana Republic, $148), which I think constitute a happy medium:

I've had BR shoes before and I've always found them to be totally comfortable, of very good quality, and generally worth the money spent on them. And also? I can totally take some nail polish and paint the soles red:

Here's the dealio, homeskillet

Thank you for asking about the recent unemployment, but I'm fine! I'm FIIIIIIIINE! /Sally Field-as-M'Lynn-impression

Firstly, this did not come as a surprise. I pretty much knew it was coming for a while. The promotion I got a while back just didn't turn out to be a good fit.

Secondly, I'm not too concerned about what happens next, because these things just kind of have a way of working themselves out, ya know?

Thirdly, I have already had a couple of interviews, and I've got some great contacts that have given me leads on some others, so I feel pretty confident that something will come along soon enough.

Fourthly, no, this is not in fact the ideal time for me to pursue my dream of being a writer and living on the beach, as Big Daddy is weirdly consumed with actually having health insurance and benefits.

Fifthly, Big Daddy and I have reached on agreement on the $300 of clothes I bought today with no consideration at all for the fact that I DON'T HAVE A JOB. He agrees that it's okay for me to keep the clothes if I agree to actually start showering and wearing something other than sweatpants.

Two Things I Don't Want to Talk About Anymore:
1. Unemployment
2. The Game

So Sad.

I'm thinking of changing #23 my list to: "See my Tigers come within seconds of winning a National Championship and then let it slip through their fingers"

Just so I can go ahead & mark it off.

Being all domesticated and shit

For those of you NOT following along on Twitter, I have this very small, very trivial, practically irrelevant announcement: I am now unemployed.

TA - DAAAAAAH!

Moving on...I've only been home like 2 days and I'm already driving Big Daddy up the wall. We're like an old retired couple. Only he's actually trying to earn a living and I'm puttering around interrupting him by washing a load of clothes or letting the dog out to pee.

Today I was trying to make a cake and the mixer was sort of interrupting his conference call. I guess. And I was all "SHEESH!" and he was all, "Uhh, ONE OF US has to support the family ya know."

Don't think for a second that he won't EAT MY CAKE though. (Which is in no way related to DRINKING MY MILKSHAKE. I'm guessing. Because I didn't actually see that movie so I don't really know what the hell that expression is supposed to mean. Also? Daniel Day-Lewis is completely buck-ass crazy. Just something I've noticed.)

I also cooked dinner for tonight - a shrimp & wild rice recipe from Paula Deen. Which, she really needs to recompute how she figures that prep time/ cook time thing because the recipe said Prep Time: 10 minutes and dudes! It took me 10 minutes JUST TO CHOP THE GREEN PEPPER. Who do these TV chefs think we are, Wonder freakin Woman?

The cake didn't come out as pretty as it should have:

THEIRS (Courtesy Something So Clever)

MINE (Courtesy of that dumb-ass Pampered Chef olive oil-sprayer thing which totally does not work as good as Pam I don't care what that sales lady tried to tell you at the party.)

Yeah, so mine totally stuck to the pan. But I've been eating the scrapings from inside the pan and YUM. So I don't really care what the cake looks like as long as I can stuff my face with all those delicious, sweet banana butterscotch calories.

Also? (One last thing) GO TIGERS!!!

Banana Butterscotch Cake
1-2/3 cups (11-ounce package) butterscotch chips, divided
1 package (18.5 ounces) yellow cake mix
4 large eggs
3/4 cup (2 medium) mashed ripe bananas
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 375° F. Grease 10-cup bundt or round tube pan.

Microwave 1-1/3 cups butterscotch chips in medium, microwave-safe bowl on medium-high (70%) power for 1 minute; stir. Microwave at additional 10- to 20-second intervals, stirring until smooth.

Combine cake mix, eggs, bananas, vegetable oil, water and granulated sugar in large mixer bowl. Beat on low speed until moistened. Beat on high speed for 2 minutes.

Stir 2 cups batter into melted morsels. Alternately spoon batters into prepared bundt or round tube pan.

Bake for 35 to 45 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in cake comes out clean. Cool in pan for 20 minutes; invert onto wire rack to cool completely.

Place remaining chips in small, heavy-duty plastic bag. Microwave on medium-high (70%) power for 30 seconds; knead. Microwave at additional 10- to 20-second intervals, kneading until smooth.

Cut tiny corner from bag; squeeze to drizzle over cake.

So You Too Can Enjoy THE GAME

I have a new post up at iDiva: The Girlfriend's Guide to the NCAA Championship.


Also? GO TIGERS!!!!1!!!

"Embarrassingly Wrong"

In Saturday's LA Times, sports columnist Bill Plaschke wrote:

One coach runs distinct, detailed, plotted plays.The other coach just runs.

One coach screams at his players to place themselves in the exact formation they practiced the night before in a hotel ballroom in front of two potted plants and a giggling front-desk clerk.The other coach just screams....

If Howland is cast directly from Hoosiers, then Calipari comes from White Man Can't Jump.

When looking for the difference in today's national semifinal between UCLA and Memphis, look no further than the end of the bench. Howland will be the one coaching. Calipari will be the one cheering...

That's perhaps an oversimplification, but at the center of each team is a leader whose heart is in a very different place. Howland is a concocter of plays. Calipari is a collector of players.

I'm picking a now-healthy UCLA to defeat Memphis today because, all things being equal, the play always beats the players.

*Ahem* Mr Plaschke? I realize it's your job to support the home team and all, but is there anything you wanted to say today? Sunday?

The final score in the national semifinal was Memphis 78, UCLA 63, and A Certain Columnist zero.

I wrote that UCLA would win because Howland would outcoach Memphis' John Calipari. I was wrong. I was embarrassingly wrong. I was as wrong as Calipari's hair is stiff...

UCLA's disciplined coaching was also supposed to frustrate the freewheeling Calipari. Oh yeah, did I tell you I was wrong?

I was, however, right about one thing. Yes, this was a coaching mismatch. But that mismatch belonged to Calipari. His NBA style owned the Alamodome, his schemes favored his players better than Howland's schemes suited his players.

Calipari made all the right moves. He called all the right formations. In the end, UCLA legs were so weary that the Bruins missed eight consecutive shots during an aborted second-half comeback attempt.

It was, for Calipari, a first and deserved shining moment.

Thank you. Apology accepted.

LOLDOG

I CAN HAZ STARBUTTS?

Finally

A sports writer for our daily, the Commercial Appeal, said today that the Tigers being in the Final Four was an "iconoclast" in almost every way.

I had to go to dictionary.com and look it up, to make sure I was reading that right.

i·con·o·clast noun
1. a breaker or destroyer of images, esp. those set up for religious veneration.
2. a person who attacks cherished beliefs, traditional institutions, etc., as being based on error or superstition.

To which I say, Well Done, Dan Wolken! Writers at the CA rarely impress me with their mastery of the English language, but I gotta give him props on this one.

Coach Cal instructs his players on what venerated image they will be destroying next.

No one gave us the least little bit of credit. Everyone trashed us. The national commentators and writers and analysts would say, "Well...there's a good chance that three of the #1 seeds will make it to the Final Four, but not all four of them..." And EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE SPORTING WORLD KNEW THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT THE MEMPHIS TIGERS.

Because we were "Overrated." We play in a shitty conference. We'd never have that record in the Big East. Or the SEC. Or the ACC. Or any other long list of conferences that are infinitely better than that crappy American Conference or whatever it's called. USA Today Conference. Conference USA. Whatever.

When Joey Dorsey first came to play for the Tigers, we liked to call him The Manchild, because he was so big and strong.

Their bias against the Tigers was only supported by that 5-point loss (at home, they liked to point out) to #2 Tennessee. The game that was built up statewide as The Game Of The Century. See? See?? they said. TOLD YOU they couldn't hang with the Big Dogs.

They can't hit their free throws, they said. It'll hurt them in the tournament. Only FREE THROWS DON'T REALLY MATTER WHEN YOU WIN BY 20 POINTS, DO THEY??

(See Also: Memphis v. Texas, FTM-A, Mem 30-36, 83.3%)

UNC, the heavy favorite for the championship, played every tournament game in their home state right up 'til they traveled to San Antone for the Final Four. Memphis had to beat Texas in Houston.

Hey DJ, it doesn't matter...Rose can still beat you blindfolded!

Sadly, the team knows that even with all they've done this year, they still don't get the respect they deserve. "It doesn't matter," says CDR. "It's four teams left now."

Everyone pretty much agrees that the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament is the fairest way to decide a champion. (Unlike that ridiculous BCS thing they do in football, which nearly everyone hates.) Everyone blew us off, but we got to the Final Four fair & square, and we sure did blow a lot of people's brackets along the way. Heh. Doubters.

Oh Dozier, you're SO CUTE with your little headband and your 15-foot wingspan.

A commenter named Evie reminded me that I have on my "Before I Die" list:

#23. See my Memphis Tigers win an NCAA basketball title.

That's been on there for so long I forgot I'd written it.

Yes, we've waited an awfully long time for today. I'm so damn proud of the boys for being a Final Four team that I don't even care if they win it all or not. I mean, I care a little bit. Of course it would be great to win. But the real honor is just to be nominated, right?

Something to smile about.

The other three teams have like 700 national titles amongst them. The news story has started to become that Memphis likes being the underdog; we use it to our advantage. "Keep doubting us," CDR says. "It's working."

The LA Times says today's game is a coaching mismatch. "One coach runs plays; the other just runs...Howland is straight from 'Hoosiers'; Calipari is from 'White Men Can't Jump'...One coach will be the one coaching; the other one will be the one cheering." But Memphians disagree. Cal's done more for this city than any of our illustrious elected officials. I'm pretty sure he could win a mayoral race if it were held tomorrow.

Cal is making a sign-language heart for "I love you." Oh Call, WE LOVE YOU, TOO!

Cal says everything is business as usual for the Tigers today. Not changing a thing, just doing what we do best. Even this business with Andre Allen getting suspended is just par for the course with the Tigers, since at least half of our players have been in some sort of trouble this year.

In San Antonio, the Tigers are staying at a hotel downtown by the RiverWalk because it follows the routine they've kept all year. (At home games, the team stays at the Peabody and is allowed to hang out downtown the night before the game. They have curfew but no lockdown.)

The other three teams have opted to stay at hotels out by the airport, away from the "distractions" of downtown. Which will be convenient for them when they LOSE and need to make a quick exeunt from the city.

The dunk heard 'round the world.

This is our time. We bought our ticket with hard work and determination. We will not go away quietly. WE ARE THE MEMPHIS TIGERS.

Tiger Ballet

Sucks to be him

No matter how bad you screw up in life, you can always take comfort in knowing that you didn't fuck up as bad as this guy, who, it appears, will miss playing in the Final Four because he SMOKED POT. (Allegedly)

Pride (In the Name of Love)

"Early morning*, April 4, a shot rings out in the Memphis sky

'Free at last'...they took your life...they could not take your pride"

* - It was actually 6:01 p.m. but perhaps that wasn't poetic enough for Bono.

Which Mythological character do you most relate to?

My Kid has been studying mythology in English, something I know very little about, other than those names that routinely pop up in crosswords - Argo, Clio, Erato. I know who Zeus is, and that Icarus flew too close to the sun and there was Athena and Aphrodite - one the goddess of wisdom and the other beauty, but I can never remember which is which. I don't know anything about Adonis, but I'm assuming he was HOT.

So I've been reading My Kid's mythology book a bit and I think I've found my girl. Behold Circe:

She was a goddess-slash-sorceress who turned the men who spurned her into animals. She turned all of Odysseus's men into pigs. I think I love her.

Stylemaker (or Breaker?)

Everyone's abuzz about Katie's new hair cut. Again. The internet consensus seems to be that she's turning into Tom. Which is a little scary.

I just think it looks like a mullet.