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Blah, Blah, Blah


If I want to start out the Year feeling somewhat optimistic, I should probably begin with several milligrams of Paxil.

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Ecclesiastes says that there is a season for every activity under heaven.

A time to be born, a time to die, a time to figure out what the heck I'm going to do with myself in between. It's January. A month of listlessness and prevailing boredom. The kids have gone home. Credit card bills will start pouring in from Christmas and I might get off a whole lot cheaper if I just change my address.

I have already failed my New Year's resolutions somewhere between nine and noon. And I need vagus nerve stimulation.

Enteral Optimism


Enteral Optimism

If I want to start out the Year feeling somewhat optimistic, I should probably begin with several milligrams of Paxil.

Good Company

To ward off boredom, I accelerated my respiratory system by breathing in and out till I got dizzy.

I replaced every powering device in my household with a fresh round of batteries. It took me an hour to figure out if blue or green was my favorite color. I can always lie in the hammock and take a long winter’s nap, or clean something. There are chores that start over again the minute I complete them.

I cast a rapid glance to all those in the room and grabbed those pencils placing them in a cup by pointing them in the same direction while talking to the lead filled sticks. “I’ll bet you’re all wondering why I gathered you here today!”


Heaven forbid if we have an earthquake.

The etch-a-sketch portrait of myself will be ruined. I did stand at the sink full of dishes watching my dry cracked fingers prune as I gathered more ideas on how to have a good time. Thankfully my granddaughter called giving me a good time. I told her that she should have motivating New Year’s resolutions.

“Be helpful, drink more water, and marry Adam Lambert.” After that, I grabbed my phone and took a snapshot of my last meal and sent it to everyone as if they have never seen guacamole dip before.

Wandering Thoughts


Wandering Thoughts

I could change my car horn to the sound of fireworks. Or I could ponder the problems of mutation. Except the Neanderthals did it and they’re all dead. Every last one of them. A massage would feel good.

Rousing Options

Then it dawned on me, I’m out of ice cubes.

I refuse to dissect spiders on moral grounds. Except that the devil intervened and tried coercing me into becoming mischievously unprincipled by texting random numbers trenchantly expressing, I hid the body in your back yard. I called down legions of angels to rescue me from executing that idea. Although temporarily amusing, I knew after four hours of doing it that I would just be bored again.

I’ve been meaning to conduct myself with more practical expediency. But there are too many other rousing options.

Maternal Advice

If my mother were alive, she would tell me, “Go find something to do!”

Not wanting my cortisol levels to go down, I decided to run outside garnering enough photosynthesis from the sun’s luminous veil of light to turn it into nutrition for my body and basically keep me from getting vehemently depressed. After filling ice cube trays, I watched Ferris Bueller who stolidly declared, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.”

Shock to the System


Shock to the System

I looked around. All I saw was a basket overflowing with dirty laundry. I decided to take the day off myself from doing anything stressful that could result in skin conductance, sending mild electric shock to my system since I’m out of dryer sheets.

Satisfying Food

Ferris made me realize that I’m a righteous dudette.

Although the sportos, the motorheads, the geeks, sluts, wasteoids and dweebies don’t adore me and could care less who I am or what I’m doing.

My computer soon summoned, making me Google movie stars. Specifically, Mark Wahlberg’s brachii muscles. It was about the same time I was thinking what I’ll have for lunch tomorrow and if I should diet. Come to find out, Mark stays in top shape for films then rewards himself.


Pancakes, double-dough pepperoni pizzas, brownies with a huge mug of milk.

If I rewarded myself with that much food, I would be resting for a lengthy period within the confines of a coffin. Although I do find it’s impossible to experience happiness unless I’m gorging on the weight inducing blissfulness of anything that isn’t good for me.

Getting Physical

Which brings me to fitness.

Thus far, I haven’t been too inclined to diet. Now I’m into gut jiggling. The most calories I’ve burned were the apple crisp I forgot was in the oven when I went outside to pick weeds. Back in 1991, I lost 7.3 pounds, but that was with my third newborn. I’d lose 24 more pounds per year if I stopped eating those 3-gallon tubs of premium ice cream and probably seventy more pounds if I ran around the block every day with my neighbors Irish setter.

So much for entering the Olympics.

Sweet Treats


Sweet Treats

I’m on my third cupcake. I spent the entire holiday season running myself ragged and exercising every part of my body. So I’m giving up any sort of physical activity for Lent, starting now. Anyway, my insurance doesn’t handle body splints. The only way I’ll get to be smokin’ hot is in a fiery tunnel turning to ashes when I’m dead.

Over Stimulation

I’d like to take a moment of silence to observe the stair stepper, that mega metal of resistance and severe boredom unidentifiable to my aging and senescent physique.

Personally, I’d like to observe twelve months of treading silence and not spend one microsecond on a machine that makes me hold on for dear life. Where some see bodybuilding, I see sweating, over stimulation, and general nausea. There are far better ways to trick my body into releasing oxytocin. Who’s with me?

Hunger Games

Or we could play hunger games and see who comes out of that alive.

Furthermore, let’s all take a moment of silence for all those younger parents who cannot take a moment for either exercise or silence since they have toddlers.

Life is mesmerizing. Eat. Sleep. Poop. Try not to be bored. Which makes it even more entrancing when I can’t stop thinking about vacations and retirement.