When You're So Tired of Yourself, the Only Thing Left to do Is Blog

I'm in a February funk.

I freaking HATE this time of the year. It's cold. It's dark. And there is not enough good TV or food in the fridge to satisfy my needs. All I want to do is watch Oprah and eat cheesy poofs.

I know, I know. That's not a very healthy attitude. Not to mention SO not figure flattering.

I actually got my sad, tired, ever-expanding ass on the treadmill today and wogged (that's right, only wogging accurately describes the pace at which I move) a little over 3 miles. It should have felt good. When I was finished, all I wanted to do was eat all the carbs in the house and take a nap. Bleh.

I'll pretty much snap out of it when it's finally March (thank gawd), but in the meantime I'm trying to avoid the self-loathing that seems to consume me and cause me to watch daytime television. I tried to watch Dr. Phil save a really, really sick girl with the worst eating disorder I've ever seen. Usually that sort of stuff makes me hate myself a little less, but it didn't work today.

Now that is one bad funk.

I like to think exercise will knock some sense into me, but as I'm really too lazy to do it as often as I should (more than 2-3 times a week), the results are negligible. I'm chasing the elusive runner's high, but I'm pretty sure it's a myth. Runner's delirium? Sure, I get that all the time. You know, like when your legs are so wobbly you fall off the treadmill instead of stepping off?

It may have to do.

Red Hot Love

In case you haven't noticed, it's Valentine's Day. I haven't been able to traipse through Target without running into heart-shaped love since the Christmas decorations went on sale. Suddenly everything seems to be red or pink, and you can buy Hershey's Kisses, Sweethearts, and High School Musical valentines in bulk. Ok, maybe I made that last one up because I haven't actually seen these, but I suspect they exist. If they make High School Musical panties, they make valentines.

Sweethearts are made for the text message generation. While my friends and I thought it was quaint to read "fax me" on a candy heart, I can only imagine how the youngsters are gaga over "UR Gr8", "I <3 U", "143" or "459" (That's I love you in text message shorthand.) And if you're not sure how you feel, my personal favorite "BTWITIAILW/U" (by the way I think I'm in love with you). Um, yeah.

In the olden days (aka the 80s and 90s), we passed notes: "Check yes or no if you think I'm cute." There was always the nagging fear that you might get caught in study hall, but it made clandestine love all the sweeter. And you really knew who your BFF was, cause she never hesitated to ask the guy you liked if he liked you back or even like-liked you back.

Mortgage Partner and I make lots of V-Day jokes using our 9th grade humor, and yesterday I helped sell raspberry mocha vaginas on sticks at the university. But truth be known, I think Valentine's Day is pretty sweet--even if it involves manufactured love in a box. At least people are taking the time to share their love. I might be a bit of a cynic, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy pink and red, heart-shaped love once a year.

Happy Valentine's Week...Brought to You by the Pharmaceutical Industry

Recently I read an article where someone reminisced about the Valentine's Days of her childhood--complete with decorated shoeboxes for the valentines. I remember these days. Now I find it kind of humorous that we dutifully trotted around the classroom dropping our Bugs Bunny or Strawberry Shortcake valentines into people's construction-paper-covered Stride Rite boxes. I'm not sure what these rituals were made for other than an excuse to eat Smarties and chocolate cupcakes covered in pink goo.

As an adult, it seems Valentine's Day choices are less heartfelt. Ha.

I can get Mortgage Partner a card that plays an REO Speedwagon song, and perhaps I should tape a Cialis in it. You know, the pill they're talking about while the couple playfully wrestles the squirting kitchen hose?

Now while I joke all the time that MP is old, he's not that old. Not old enough to need a Cialis (although the couple in the commercial looks about 35).

He might be old enough for REO Speedwagon, but I won't rat him out.

I would like to know where my generation fits into this Valentine's Day commercial package.

Where is my card that plays Pearl Jam? What is our pharmaceutical of choice? When you're too young for Restasis, where do you turn?

Suspension of Disbelief

Right now, at the very moment I'm typing this, Mitt Romney is suspending his bid for the presidency. Now, I have to ask what that means. To me, it sounds like in this season of perpetual vitriol, he is creating a kind of political purgatory.

He's not dropping out, so in essence he's not really out of the game. CNN's link has a very decent explanation of what a suspension means, so I won't go there. But dang, this just gets weirder and weirder.

I have to give the businessman props for being a businessman--he knows when to hold 'em, knows when to fold 'em, knows when to walk away, knows when to run.

Believe me, he's counting his money.

The talking heads will surely be giving him accolades for truly acting like a conservative and, gulp, not spending money stupidly. If only more conservatives, ahem, recalled this principle.

Don't get me wrong. This guy freaks me out. I'm pretty sure he's a cyborg. But at least he's not beating the dead horse before it ends up in someone else's bed.

My Big Fat Super Tuesday

In case you haven't heard, you need to get out and vote today. And then you can put your party beads on and do all those bad things you're going to swear off for Lent 'cause it's Mardi Gras.

Here in middle America, the excitement of Super Tuesday is being dampened by our crappy weather. We're supposed to get rain, freezing rain, sleet (not to be confused by freezing rain), wintry mix, and snow. Our polling location is up the street at the neighborhood Catholic church, so I'm not overly concerned about getting out the vote. I could actually walk if I were so inclined, but I probably won't because I'm lazy.

Last night MP and I were discussing whether old people or youngsters would likely be more hindered by bad weather. I say the kids (I know them so well) because the old people like to get up early and do these things, thus they'll miss the worst of it. Since MO is a bellwether state for the Dems in this election, that could be a determining factor how this election will go. I'm not actually sure if I believe that, but I like the word bellwether.

And because it's not enough for the universe to have Super Tuesday and Fat Tuesday on the same day, it's also my friend Dorothy's 34th birthday. She's a little anxious, although I think her birthday has little to do with it. The big green tax machine for which we both work is laying people off today. I've told Dorothy many times that she's responsible for me having real, grown-up jobs in the years since grad school, so I hope her goodness covers both our asses in this situation.

In the meantime, we'll see how the roll of the dice works in this election season.

Laissez les bon temps rouler!