Category Archives: self-help

Call A&E

My name is Lisa, and I’m a gum addict.

Okay, that’s a little rude. I thought you were supposed to say “hi” back to me at these things, but whatever.

Um, sorry. Anyway, yeah.

I’m a gum addict, I guess. God, it feels so good to say that.

Tell you about myself? Okay. Um, well, this addiction has been a long and slow process. It stared out innocently enough, I suppose. I would buy those three-packs of Orbit (Bubblemint was my flavor of choice at the time), and go through all three in less than a week. That’s normal though, right?

Well, soon that led to “doubling it up,” where I always had two pieces in my mouth at any given time. Couple that will the compulsive need to ditch the stuff when the flavor’s gone, and, well, I started going through packs faster. Now, I’m embarrassed to say, I sometimes have a wad of three to four pieces in my mouth. God, I’m so embarrassed. I just need more to get the same rush, you know? That burst of flavor from just one piece doesn’t do it for me anymore.

In fact just this morning, I plowed through the pack of Orbit Sweet Mint gum is less than 30 minutes. I know you’re wondering about the logistics of that: I put three in my mouth, chew for 5ish minutes, spit out, and repeat. I just…I just know it’s unhealthy and disgusting, okay? The sorbitol in these things do a number on your digestive track. And don’t even get me started on the clicking jaw…

I just wish that I could just be one of those people who’s happy with one piece, you know? I pretend I am when I’m around normal people, but they don’t know the beast of addiction that lurks underneath. I don’t want anyone to know…

I’ve tried again and again to wean myself off. And I don’t buy it very much anymore for the most part. But sometimes, when I’m feeling weak, and I just see it there by the checkout at the grocery store….I can’t help myself.

I’m so ashamed. I just want…help.


Helpful Tips Pt. 4

How to tell if you will ever amount to anything:

1. Look at your life.
2. Look at your choices.
3. No.


Behold the ravages of age!

In an effort to be more proactive about negating some of the stuff I have been indiscriminately shoving down my gullet as of late, I thought to myself, Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if I woke up 30 minutes early and did that 30 Day Shred Video that I’ve had forever and never actually done. Metabolism boost! SHREDDED BODY! ARM MUSCLES!”

Boo. Yah.

And in a miracle that beats that whole water-into-wine nonsense, I actually got up at 6:30, put on workout clothes, and poised myself in front of the screen. Honestly, I could have gone back to sleep at this point and already called the day a success. But I soldiered on like…a soldier.

So there I am, jump-jacking like a moron in my bedroom at 6:30 AM, and then I hear this NOISE.

Pop! [beat] Pop! [beat] Pop!

What the HELL is happening? It sounded like a slow-paced ping pong game.

It took like five pops to realize this sound was coming from me, or, more specifically, my right ankle. WHAT THE WHAT? WHY AM I MAKING NOISES?! (Sure, if I had to guess, it’s probably from spraining my ankle, like, a bajillion times, but whatever).

There wasn’t, like, any pain, but just knowing that the noise was coming from me made me feel something. Like someone was popping bubble wrap in my joint. I would have been able to ignore the feeling if it weren’t for the noise! THE NOISE! Like The Telltale Heart, I was being driven mad by a rogue body part. And all I want is to get shredded!

So, I guess I’m just wondering: is this something my body is just going to do now? Make noises like a broken bicycle? NICE! THIS IS WHY I CAN’T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE!

I’m nervous to try again tomorrow.


Work ethic? Your MOM has work ethic!

I am the biggest procrastinator on the entire planet. For serious. I’m procrastinating right now. You could say, “Oh, but Lisa, at least you’re writing something. You’re not just sitting and staring into space or at youtube videos, which amounts to pretty much the same thing.” 

I guess you’re right, person I just made up. But I had a much more thoughtful post in mind to write next, but I’ll probably never get to that. So much the better for everyone. Also, I should be working on this application thing because things are slow at work, but NOPE. I decided to LITERALLY JUST STARE at the Slate homepage. It’s cool though. It’s not like the thing I’m supposed to be working on has ANY BEARING ON MY FUTURE CAREER. Nah. What I’m doing now is totes important too.

Even at home, I’m procrastinating from watching the last season of Battlestar Galactica. Why? I enjoyed the first three seasons, and the third season ended with a big shebang that left me on the edge of my seat, but not literally because that never happens. And I have people who want to discuss it with me. Eager nerds wanting to talk about cylons and shit. But nope. Instead I’m watching Futurama for the billionth time. (Team Zoidberg!)

I probably won’t go to the gym tomorrow either. I’ll probably say to myself, “Oh yeah, well, I deserve a break after work. I’ll go after my appointment thing.” But then I totally won’t. I’m a liar. I lie to myself. Compulsively.

Finally, I can’t even be bothered thinking of a clever ending for this. I mean, how could I? My brain right now is thinking about oatmeal. I want to make oatmeal, but the hot water is, like waaaay over there. Why did I start this thing if I can’t finish it? What should I say? Should this whole thing end positively or just kind of trail off? I’m leaning toward the trail off…


Helpful Tips pt. 3

How to tell if you’re going to be alone forever:

  1. This sounds like a self-esteem issue. Go look in the mirror.
  2. Not THAT mirror. That mirror makes you look like a hag. Go look in another mirror.
  3. That’s better. See? At the very least, you’re interesting looking.
  4. But yeah, you might.

FORGET You!

Let us reflect for a moment on the awesomeness that is the song “Fuck You” by the magnificent Cee Lo Green.

You may have heard the radio edit “Forget You,” but FORGET THAT. You listen to this song for one reason only: to cathartically scream “fuck you!” with as much venom and derisiveness as you can muster.

Over the past couple of months, this song has been my go-to attitude anthem. I sing it out of anger and desperation and sadness. It’s perfect. Consequently, I’m a little in love with Mr. Green. Emotional collateral damage.

The beauty is that you can adapt the lyrics to almost any situation.

Take, for example, this line in the chorus:

I guess the change in my pocket

Wasn’t enough. I’m like,

Fuck you!

“Change in my pocket” can serve as a metaphor for almost any unpleasant situation.

Cutting me off on the highway

Was the last straw, I’m like,

Fuck you!

Or, for personal matters:

I guess my unrelenting awesomeness

Wasn’t enough. I’m like,

Fuck you!

That’s right, folks. Next time you’re feeling down, happiness is just a song away. Roll down the windows of your car and scream “FUCK YOU” to every single asshole who has ever let you down. Even if it’s just the dude going slowly in the fast lane.

 


Helpful Tips pt. 1

How to discover if you’re overreacting:

1. You’re overreacting. Stop it.