Wii’s kinda snarky. I’s snarky right back.

Who’s played Wii Fit?

Has it made you cry yet?

Have you at least sworn at it?

I have.

You see, Wii Fit is a computer. It could care less if you’re a hulking beast of muscle. All it knows is that you’re 5’2″ 26 years old and that you weigh 127 lbs. It doesn’t know about your delicate wrists or your slender neck. It just knows that mathematically the BMI for a 5’2″ 127 lb. 26 year old woman is 21.47.

21.47 is normal, 21.47 is healthy. It even tells you you’re normal and healthy. It will even indulge you with a Wii Fit age of 24 years old.

Aw, Wii Fit, you’re making me blush.

Hop on Wii Fit a week later after two days of period water weight bloat and a half box of Oreos from the night before and the Wii Fit will notice that you are now a 5’3″ woman who weighs 128.2 lbs. The Wii Fit will then draw an ENORMOUS RED LINE at a very steep angle from your previously recorded weight of 127 lbs. followed by a screen giving you six options as to why you’ve gained weight.

Why do you think you’ve gained weight this past week Casey?

a. I eat too much.

b. I eat before bed.

c. I don’t exercise enough.

d. I watch too much SYTYCD.

e. I eat half bags of Oreos in one sitting.

f. I don’t know.

No where is there an option for “I am a bloated heifer carrying around enough extra water weight to drown a small dinghy”.

So I selected “I don’t know.”

Wii Fit came back and told me some garbage about me being accountable for my eating habits and he’s just sure I know why I gained two pounds and to play Wii Fit everyday and he won’t let me get tubby like I’m letting myself get tubby without his cute computer sounds and addictive games.

This is when the Wii Fit was formally told to suck it.

Wii Fit then made my Mii avatar chubbier around the midsection, to reflect my newfound weight gain.

Touché , Wii Fit. touché .

Crazy Sober Mormons.

I don’t drink. Used to. Don’t anymore. In my choice of religion we are commanded to follow the Word of Wisdom. The word of wisdom basically breaks down to “eat stuff that’s good for you, avoid the stuff that’s bad for you.” Included in the list of things which are good for you are fruits, vegetables, whole grains and meat (in moderation). Duh. The things that fall under the “bad” category are alcohol, tobacco, coffee and tea.

(By the way, to any new readers, HI! I’m a Mormon. If you hate Mormons, kindly keep your mean emails and comments to yourself and just click away, hit unsubscribe and forget that 12,000,000 of us share the same planet as you. kthxbai)

So there you go. I don’t drink. That isn’t to say that I never drank, because WHOO did I drink. And you know what? It really isn’t for me. With my depression and inability to control myself as a hot drunken mess it’s really just better that I don’t. So even if it weren’t for the religious direction not to drink, I still wouldn’t drink. Same with cigarettes, tried one once, gagged and vomited in my mouth a little. Plus I spend a lot of money to smell good, why waste all that effort? As for the coffee and tea? I’ve had one sip of coffee in my entire life. Totally not for me. Icky. Tea? I broke down and tried some “magical” ginger tea whilst I was pregnat. Let’s just say that vomiting up ginger tea solidified my passionate hatred for all things ginger.

So that brings us to BlogHer, where the liquor and coffee flow pretty freely. I won’t be drinking any of it. However, I’ll probably be keeping a Shirley Temple and hot chocolate count somewhere in my sidebar. I personally am a lot more fun sober. Although when you see me dance, you may wonder if I didn’t take a little nip when no one was looking.

Are you worried I’ll be talking to you all the while silently judging you and condemning you to hell for that gin and tonic in your hands?

Depends. Are you going to be accosting me insisting that I shove liquor down my throat, calling me a big holier than thou sissypants sissy for not drinking?

No? Didn’t think so. Just as I know you will respect my reasons for not drinking, I wholly respect your decision to drink. You’re a big girl, you can handle yourself. So assuming Shirley Temples are free, I’ll have a few drink tickets up for grabs.

See you in 19 days ladies.

It’s the “Let the moosh Whoorl your Hair” Contest Extravaganza!

That’s right my friends. With my new found riches from GE Caulk Singles I am going to sponsor one lucky readers hair TRANSFORMATIONmation-mation-mation

Nothing can make a bad day good or a good day better like a great hair day.

I am here to make that happen for one lucky lady (or dude, whatever, but I’m going to warn you dudes the ladies are going to be pretty cranky if you get up in their hair contest.)

What’s even better? The hair goddess Sarah from Whoorl has agreed to join me in my efforts. The winner will be fast tracked to the FRONT! OF! THE! LINE! over at Hair Thursday (you know, the little hair site that has been in the NY Times and on Nightline? Yeah that one, the one with a massive waiting list?) Sarah herself will decide on a new style for the winner, readers will vote, off someone will go to a salon chair somewhere in the world to get a fabulous new do that they will come back and show off on Hair Thursday-all paid for by me and my cock caulk money (up to $140 USD).

Now here’s what you have to do.

You have to write a post on your own personal blog (Yes, you must have a blog for this contest, sorry.) sometime between today and Midnight EST Monday, July 14th.

  • You must link back to this original entry and to Hair Thursday. Then, leave a comment on this post with a link to your entry. Each entry has to include:
  • a picture from your horrid hair past (even if it was twenty minutes or twenty years ago) Like say, this one. (I know, believe me, I know. Where do you even begin making fun of such a photo?)

Circa 1992

  • a picture of a really good hair day captured on film (again, anytime in your life) Like this one perhaps:

after outgrowing the perm.

  • and a picture of where your hair stands today (or sits, or flies away, or frizzes, or poofs). (Which just happens to be like the above photo for me. Everyday. My hair is magical. Heh. Whatever.)

Anything else you add is completely up to you. The winner will be picked randomly from all qualifying entries and announced whilst Sarah and I are in San Francisco (between Thursday, July 18th and Sunday, July 20).


Fine print? Well, to make sure you use the money for your hair, arrangements will be made with the winner for payment. I will either purchase a gift certificate to the salon of your choosing or will call the salon personally to make payment arrangements. You’ll also have to provide photos of your hair being done in a salon atmosphere, no Miss Clairol and home and passing it off as professional. You have to get your hair DONE and DONE RIGHT. You deserve it.)

Good luck!

Why you should enter every online contest ever, except for the ones I’m entering.

So maybe you’ve heard by now that my bathtub crayon drawings all over my bathroom sink won me $1000.


Well, the bathtub crayon drawings all over my sink won me $1000.

Proof that parking your kid in front of a movie for an hour, drawing all over your sink and taking pictures of it can be worthwhile.

The Caulk Judges even gave me a perfect 10. (Go ahead, take the L out of caulk and giggle furiously like Heather did when I told her.)

What does a $1000 mean in our house? So far it means golf clubs for Cody and the longest damn massage at the swankiest spa in San Francisco I can find.

I’d say it meant new clothes but since I won a $250 shopping spree at TJ Maxx last month, my wardrobe is pretty much taken care of.

What’s that? Sleeping Jellybeans? OH! Seething jealousy! Yes, I totally understand. I’m a little jealous of myself. Believe me, I’m just waiting for a piano to fall on my head or worms to start spurting out of my toes.

I’m sure blogher is all “Can one person BE so lucky?” And I say unto you-YEAH THEY CAN.

In an effort to pay it forward I will be having a little (okay, kinda huge) giveaway/contest of my own here by the end of the week. It will be sweet. You will totally want to enter.

Best news? I won’t be able to.

*TOOT* part *TOOT*

Ah, yes. Google “orgasm on treadmill” and guess who’s #1?

Hi. That would be me.

Apparently I’ve taught the world a lot about odd things that can occur when exercising.

I just never thought I’d teach my teacher (and entire class) about these odd things.

I continue to take a yoga class where my flexibility and bendy parts still service me well. As you may remember I’m quite good at the “plow” pose. It was while in the “plow” Monday morning that my teacher decided to make an example out of me.

“Can you bring your hips straight up and your legs out?”

Of course everyone in the class turns to look at me.


I started to do it until I noticed the eerie silence in the room and the fact that all eyes were on me. When I move out of plow, I queef. Hardcore.

I dropped out of the pose quickly and mumbled “I’m always afraid I’ll queef when I do that.”

“Excuse me what?”

“Queef, you know, a, uh, a vaginal toot?”

This is when my yogini laughed hysterically and thanked me for giving a name to this COMPLETELY COMMON yoga freak of farting. And in fact if you DON’T queef chances are you’re not doing it right.

So queef with pride my sisters, it’s one fart that lets you know you’re doing something right.

An insufferable emotional attachment.

I worked at a frozen yogurt shop around the corner from my house when I was 14. (14! Yes, fourteen, the owners didn’t seem the type into child labor laws, they paid me straight out of their personal checkbook.) Anyway, I was left alone in the shop a lot.

14 year old, surrounded by candy and frozen yogurt.

I’m not proud to say that I pretty much ate myself silly everyday. Especially with the Butterfinger. Oh the massive amounts of Butterfinger.

Every Christmas eve my family would eat crab and strawberry daiquiris by the fire.

I then worked at Marie Callendar’s pies at the age of 16. I was fueled on cornbread and potato cheese soup.

After I left home I worked at Spaghetti Factory. My free spaghetti meal was what kept me alive each day during that period of my life. I sometimes went into work to pick up shifts just so I could eat.

One of the best meals I ever had was grocery store Chinese take out with an orange cream soda. It was the best because I ate it on my very own bed in my very own apartment.

When I met Cody (at the mall) we ate Gyros almost every day that we worked together.

When I was pregnant the only food I never barfed up was Velveeta Shells & Cheese. I came close once, but kept it down out of principle.

I also craved Arby’s Beef & Cheddars. I did barf those up, but continued to eat them anyway.

My sister and I devour sushi whenever we are in each other’s presence.

I’m not officially at “home” in Utah until I’ve had a pork burrito.

When I think of my mom I think of her pineapple spareribs.

When I think of my dad I think of popcorn.

When I think of my step mom I think of spaghetti, chicken broccoli fettuccine, frog eye salad and turkey.

When I think of my step dad I think of huevos rancheros.

Golden Corral and Sizzler? Totally my in laws.

I fantasize about the day my child calls home from college and says “I MISS YOUR COOKING.” Or the day I’m able to welcome my grandkids in with a squishy grandma hug and a plate of warm cookies. (The best cookies they’ve ever had of course.)

I think it’s safe to say I have an insufferable emotional attachment to food.

Ixnay on the Inkpay.

Remember I said the moosh wanted to be a ballerina?

the moosha ballerina

the tounge only adds to the technique

She learned this pose from my MIL

the tounge only adds to the technique

tiny dancers

double trouble

cute, barre none.

Mission accomplished.

If you have to go crazy, make sure you’re insured.

Do you have any idea how much better my brain functions at 78 degrees? Or 85 degrees if a swimming pool is nearby? Way better. The last time I was blindsided by depression was in February. Blah, icky, gloomy, stupid February. And I also have a confession to make.

This last little bout?

Totally more or less my fault.

Someone forgot to call in her refill request. A week went by, constant thoughts of “OH I SHOULD GET THAT REFILLED” went through my head. But I always found something to distract me. Blah blah long story short I bottomed out awful quick and when I finally called in my refill request I was smacked down with a whole bunch of BS NO HEALTH INSURANCE BUREAUCRACY.

Side note.

Dear Cody,

If you take a job that doesn’t offer benefits you will be eating Spaghettios and rye bread until the day you die. I will make sure of it.


Apparently I needed to go back and have my level of crazy re-evaluated. I tried to explain to them that I felt fine, the medication that was prescribed to me last time was working wonders, I didn’t have any insurance coverage that would allow me to come back in at a price we could afford and IF THEY DIDN’T GIVE ME MORE I WOULD END UP BAT CRAP CRAZY SO GIVE ME THE DRUGS!


I guess in my current lucid condition I can see why they may have suggested a re-evaluation instead of handing over prescription medication.

Long story short. I’m not any more crazy than I was four months ago, or even four years ago. The meds stayed the same and I will be calling in refill requests a month in advance. I may even just stockpile them. Along with thousands of hand sanitizing wipes and packets of stolen Sweet & Low. And then I’ll get a bunch of cats and yell at kids who play on my lawn. I could easily become that lady.

In the meantime I am taking good care of myself. I am surrounded by lovely friends who also take good care of me. I have one that stands at my door and sings me songs at the top of her lungs, I have another one who offers copious amounts of cupcakes along with babysitting services, I have yet another one that promises to drag my sorry rear out to dinner and feed me until I can’t think let alone feel. I got dozens of sweet sweet emails, many with funny stories to take my mind of the garbage my brain was trying to pull over on me. I even have one friend who called just to make fun of me.

Thanks you guys.

I am in a wonderful place.

Short of baking my kid to a crisp today at the pool (seriously, has anyone ever heard of one kind of sunscreen negating another kind and actually inviting the burning rays of the sun to suck all life out of tender flesh? Because I swear that’s what happened.) I had a very good day.

I even took my first Pilates class. Yeah, you should be laughing.

Do they sell cores at Costco? I could really use one.