Are You There Peeps? It’s Me, Manda…

That’s why they call me Slim Shady, I’m back, I’m back…”

Okay, so nobody actually calls me Slim Shady. I know this and you know this. That being said, I am back, hopefully for good this time, and what is up peeps? For those of you still following me after months of being incommunicado, hello and thank you for your patience. Now I sound like an automated voice message “to continue reading, please press one now”…anyhoo, I don’t expect this post to be very long; I just wanted to let you know that I’m still here, trying to write again.

So where have I been, you may be asking? I would really love to tell you that I’ve been super busy working on myself and making positive changes, but that would be a lie. Mostly I’ve been binge-watching, binge-eating, binge-gaming, and binge-wallowing in my guilt that I’ve reverted back to doing nothing and feeling bad about it but not changing it. I did spend about a week trying to get my old laptop to work so that it would be easier for me to write, but after watching hours of YouTube videos about hard drives, reformatting, installing and uninstalling, and just basically trying to get an ancient piece of technology to function normally with said updates and reformats, I threw it under the couch and sulked for another couple of weeks because it just was not having any part of being resurrected. I even went out of my way to cover it in pretty stickers and it still wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do…ungrateful SOB.

So I’m back to poking away at my iPad screen, once again having forgotten to charge my Bluetooth keyboard…hey, at least I can be consistent about something right? Really though, I am struggling with what to say. I’m low, really low…and not in a fun Lil’ Jon type of way – too bad your booty doesn’t get a workout from gettin’ low on the couch; if that were the case I’d be giving the Kardashian’s a run for their money at this point…although size-wise I might be getting there anyway. Look out Kim, my badonkadonk is catching up! If only I could pay someone to airbrush it everyday, I could end up with a few more Instagram followers…anyone have a promo code for a butt lift? I wonder if you can use a contour kit on your ass…

Anyway, as I was saying before I went off on a completely predictable tangent, I’m not in a good place right now. I love my couch and everything, but it’s not really very good company. I’m starting to become that socially awkward person that nobody really knows what to do with…if I do have a conversation it’s usually with my cat, and she doesn’t give a fuck how weird I am so it’s not really a good barometer for socializing with real people. Even my writing is awkward…you really do lose it if you don’t use it, although I have noticed that it seems to be a great predictor for where I’m heading, mentally at least. In retrospect, my last two posts were all kinds of crazy, and I won’t lie to you – part of my absence was due to me “going away” for awhile. Literally. The men in white coats caught up with me again…maybe they were reading my blog…I’m rolling my eyes too, don’t feel bad.

So there it is peeps, my big return to blogging. Pretty blah, I know, but I did tell you that my writing seems to reflect my headspace, so for now that’s all I got. Stick with me, I’m hoping to come out of the gate swinging again at some point; I’ve been considering going back to plant-based eating in conjunction with testing out the baby food fad, waist training, and hot yoga, but that could all just be wishful thinking. Even just reading that I can see that it spells out a recipe for disaster – I sound like a space cadet on the road to an eating disorder…Heeeey Gwyneth, what up girl??…just kidding; I’m sure she’s a lovely lady, even though she’s crazy as balls. Maybe I should hit her up on Facebook or something…we can chat about our feelings on personal chefs, psychology, and Cup-a-Soup. Somehow I don’t think that would end well – sorry Gwyneth, maybe some other time; I do love me some Cup-a-Soup!

Anyway, hopefully I get motivated to do something soon, so that I can tell you all about it. Keep livin’ the dream peeps, whatever your dream may be ❤

Xo

M

Yadda, Yadda, Yadda…

Wow, I feel like I have so many things to talk to you about today. I know they say nobody likes a Chatty Cathy, but I’m pretty sure that’s the general point of blogging…right? I got a new phone, I’m trying (mostly unsuccessfully) not to eat meat or dairy (pie doesn’t count right?), the weather is…I can’t even talk about the weather, what is this, a first date? Anyone in North America knows the weather is drunk and needs to call it a night ASAFP. Possibly other parts of the world too, I dunno…I don’t sit around watching the Weather Network so I’m hideously uninformed about what’s happening in other parts of the globe, weather-wise.

So I broke down and started a Facebook account, a page, and a Tumblr account. I’m on a roll. I’m fighting with Facebook already because they won’t let me name my page after this blog…apparently the title isn’t an accurate reflection of the page contents. Um, what? Ok, so maybe I don’t strictly confess stuff in the most true sense of the word, but I think I admit to a fair amount of nonsense online, and I think I should be the judge of whether or not I’m a basket case, and I most definitely am middle-aged. So what’s the issue here? Maybe I should just spam my own page with actual confessions about all the weird buffoonery I get up to, maybe that would make Facebook happy and boost my follower base; I’m not handing over my “payment info” anytime soon, so I gotta figure something out. I feel like I need to tread a bit carefully though, since Facebook pretty much owns the universe; Marky-Mark and his Techie Bunch can probably figure out a way to collapse my house of cards just for saying the word Facebook without proper authorization. And for calling him Marky-Mark. GULP! Stay tuned peeps, I feel like shit’s about to go down. And by that I mean that I’ll probably just post a few random confessions and then passive-aggressively accept my fate when The Book says I still can’t have my page name…

🎶…makes me that much stronger…🎶 ok, maybe jumping the gun a bit there. I like to pretend that my life has a soundtrack; I don’t think I’m alone in that either so don’t give me that look.

Hey! I have a crazy idea – maybe y’all can join me! It feels good to get stuff of your chest…and people must like doing it because, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I don’t think that the hashtag #basketcaseconfessions was a thing until I “hashtagged” it and now it seems to be getting some use so…wow, I feel like a pretentious ass saying I created a hashtag…is there a non-asshat way to say that? Sadly, I don’t think there is. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t pretty sure about it though…just know that I know that I sound like an ass. Anyway, maybe if you guys mosey on over to my page(s) and “confess” some of your own shenanigans, you could help me fight the good fight…what do you mean, I’m unabashedly plugging my own social media accounts? For shame!

Ok fine, maybe I am. Sorrynotsorry. So what else is new and exciting? Ummmm, well I got a new iPhone…I’m actually not overly thrilled about that to be honest. I was so excited because I thought that I was going to run out my contract for once and not have to pay an upgrade fee because I’m impatient and can’t go two whole years with the same technology, and then I dropped my phone with less than 5 months to go. Now a cracked screen I could deal with for a few months, but whatever happened to the phone when I dropped it messed up the inner workings too. It wouldn’t connect to my home wifi, and it would pretend to be connected to the cell network but wouldn’t actually load anything. Considering the number of social media accounts I now have to keep up with, that just wasn’t gonna work for me. So I had to early upgrade again, and there were no current promotions to get a zero-dollar iPhone 8 or X, so I had to settle for the 7 Plus (which is still technically an upgrade from the 7, but not the significant upgrade I was looking forward to). Wah, wah, wah right?? Po’ baby had to get a new phoney-woney and it wasn’t the one she wanted, boo-freakin-hoo.

Anyway, for those of you who may be wondering, the Plus line is HUGE! For reals. The phone’s like Sputnik; It’s a virtual planetoid – has its own weather system! Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m done. Ah, I kill myself…don’t let my shrink hear that, I’ll be back in the bin faster than I can say “Orange on a toothpick”. Now that was offside wasn’t it? I’ll be crying myself to sleep tonight on my huge pillow…seriously though, it’s ginormous. I have small hands, so that doesn’t help matters – no, I don’t smell like cabbage – okay! I said I’m done! I’m actually LOLing right now, if you guys find me even half as funny as I find myself then I think it’s safe to say I’ve found my calling.

So the phone is very big, it’s taking some getting used to. I like that it has a better camera, and the speakers are definitely louder. I’m struggling to figure out what to do with it when I’m out…I stopped carrying a giant sack of a purse some time ago, I’ve been surviving with a small clutch and my pockets but my pockets can’t hold this beast. How many dudes say shit like that; I actually mean it though and I’m a chick. Bazinga.

So I guess that brings us to my no-dairy, no-meat, no-fun lifestyle change and my raging success with that. That was sarcasm, in case you missed it. Heavy sarcasm. I did pretty well until the weekend…it’s dance competition season, so weekends can be pretty hectic. I found out the hard way that trying to be vegan on the go is no easy feat – kudos to all the real vegans out there who can actually make it work. I’m going to stick to using descriptors like “plant-based” and “mostly”; I feel like I’ll be much more authentic that way. It didn’t take long for me to tire of asking about vegan menu options and non-dairy dairy replacements – it only took me until my morning tea actually, because tea with almond milk is gross* – and we all know that I’m about as energetic as a sloth, so preparing ALL my meals beforehand and dragging them around with me just isn’t going to cut it. And so we’re back to “mostly”. I can’t tell you if I feel better or not because all the meat and dairy slugging through my system from the weekend is definitely clouding my judgement, coupled with the crushing guilt from my horrific failure to last even one whole week, and adding frustration from the colossal effort it takes to plan even one meal that’s not just a fancy salad. Throw all that together and I can’t say with any amount of honesty that I have even the foggiest of ideas what it’s like to actually be vegan. Other than endlessly disappointing. I am trying though, for serious.

🎶…give me tiiiiiiime….🎶Nah, I’ve already realized my crime. Snubbing meat and dairy. That’s my crime. Don’t worry, my digestive system is already punishing me. So I think that’s it for today, I wasn’t planning on such a massive information dump but maybe my brain is taking it’s cues from my intestines…

🎶…it’s my potty and I’ll-

Ew.

Fine I won’t. Ok I’m gonna go now, while I still have a semblance of a following – shout out to my Mom and Hubby – plus it’s getting late and I have to figure out how to make spaghetti without pasta or meat. So basically like a hot salad in the form of a sauce. Ge’ in mah bellay, Ah can’ stop eatin’. Ah eat because Ah’m unhappy an’ Ah’m unhappy because Ah eat. It’s a vicious cycle….FACK, sorry. Seriously, I’m done now. Muahaha.

Eat well peeps,

M

*If you have to use a milk replacement for hot beverages, I recommend oat milk. It’s the closest one to actual milk, in my humble opinion. Besides, nut milk sucks – it’s milk made from nuts, whaddyou expect??

My Promise to DO SOMETHING

I’ve noticed lately that I’ve settled into a kind of perma-PMS state. The smallest thing out of place fills me with hate-fire, and I can’t even listen to a Justin Bieber song without choking up. This is a most interesting change from my usual state of emotionless zombie. Other than taking a pregnancy test every month for the last 6 months – one line every time, yessssss – I haven’t really given it much thought. I’ve just kind of accepted it, like muffin-top and adult acne.

Now, though, I’m thinking that my brain is screaming for some sort of outlet. Sitting on the couch all day certainly isn’t doing my body good; same goes for my mental health I’m guessing. So…the question is, what to do about it? The answer, dear readers, is this:

I wanna dance!

Now I know what you’re thinking – nice Dazed & Confused ripoff Manda, now get serious for Chrissakes! But I actually am being serious. I came to this conclusion by obsessively overanalyzing my sudden onset of overly emotional reactions to completely irrelevant things. I mean, it’s one thing to get choked up over a sappy song; it’s quite another to actually want to castrate your husband for putting the milk back on the wrong shelf. Don’t get me wrong – I feel very strongly about which shelf the milk belongs on, and woe betide anyone who puts it back in the wrong place, but lately I literally feel something beyond rage over things that usually are just a regular annoyance for anyone used to being as neurotic as I am.

And then we have music. Albus Dumbledore once remarked “Ah, music – a magic beyond all we do here!”, and if Dumbledore wasn’t already my hero, he won the honour with those words. I’ve always felt a strong connection to music. It’s something that most of us can relate to – there’s just something about it that touches the most human facet of our beings. And let me just say that lately, music is touching me something serious – heads out of the gutter peeps, you know what I mean!

So, like any good anxious person, I decided to analyze the everloving shit out of it until I could figure out why Britney Spears’ “Everytime” makes me blubber like an infant. Seriously, WTF is happening to me?? I’ll say it, I love Britney; I’m a true child of the 90’s, butterfly clips included, but to be brought to tears by that? Something is clearly wrong here, besides all the obvious things.

I need to express myself. In a non-swearing, non-destructive way. Sad face.

Music seems to be the key here. I feel it pulling at me, all the time. It’s getting a bit annoying, like, I feel you ok? Stop pulling on me, you’re ruining my lazy vibe. My protests; however, are in vain. It just keeps pulling. I’ve thought about going back to learning guitar, but it’s the only instrument so far that I’ve ever put my hands on and not been able to play by ear (Rainman, right here). It kinda makes me want to smash the guitar and any surrounding furniture into firewood, like Motley Crüe in a swanky hotel room. Not good. Then there’s singing…I can carry a tune alright, but I watch way too much X-Factor on YouTube to truly believe that I’m anything special in that department. My mad rapping skills are also at an all time coughyousuck low. So that’s a no. And then we come ’round to dancing.

I told you before that I’m a dance mom. I’m not desperate to steal my kids thunder here, or re-live my youth, or anything crazy like that. Let’s get that out of the way right now. What I am desperate to do is understand and channel this torrent of emotions being unleashed from the depths of my emotional subconscious. I want to feel the music. Like Patrick Swayze said. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have him around to teach me the Merengue. RIP Johnny.

Anyway, the point I’m dancing around here – haha, dancing, get it? You got it. The point is that I’m going to make you a promise. I’m going to dance. I have a room in my basement that I lovingly call “the Hoarding Room”. It looks like something you’d see on TLC, minus the cockroaches. March break starts on Monday, and I am kid-free. That’s right. A whole week to myself. I pledge here and now to spend part of that week cleaning that room and getting ready to turn it into a mini dance studio where I can flop around to my hearts content; sobbing to Selena Gomez while I try to do a pirouette and hold a Twinkie at the same time without falling on my ass.

I did dance, you know. For like fifteen years. It’s gotta still be in there somewhere, like riding a bike. I also went through a pole fitness phase last year, and I got pretty damn good at it. I even bought my own pole. It’s somewhere in the Hoarding Room, with my yoga mat, my quilting supplies, my knitting tote, my…guuuuuuhhhh. This is going to be fun, I can tell. It’s going to work too – you wait and see. I’m going to be the Julianne-freaking-Hough of my block. Nobody puts Manda in a corner.

So that’s my promise. I’m finally at a point where I’m willing to listen to what my subconscious is telling me. I’m ready to do something. Maybe the tiny bit of writing I’ve done has shaken something loose; I don’t know, but we’re gonna go with it. Look out music, I’m coming for you.

Peace out.

M