mmm, apples

lost three pounds with cookies for breakfast. if i didn't know better i would think this was eden.

it's a very ani week

i am not a pretty girl
that is not what i do
i ain't no damsel in distress
and i don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

i am not an angry girl
but it seems like i've got everyone fooled
every time i say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

and i am sorry
i am not a maiden fair
and i am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally i agree with them
trouble is you gotta have yourself an alternate plan
and i have earned my disillusionment
i have been working all of my life
and i am a patriot
i have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if i knew that and i called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up

i am not a pretty girl
i don't want to be a pretty girl
no i want to be more than a pretty girl


an old friend from highschool is getting married. i'm sure i should be pleased for her, and in the case that that is what she's always wanted and she's getting it, i am. but it's hard for me to be happy for people getting married just so they can say they got married. i can't deny that a public statement that someone wants you is a powerful thing. a needed thing for many people, of both sexes. in the case with this girl, she never felt pretty enough, good enough on her own. she always wanted a boyfriend. and she didn't have one all through highschool. it's like she went to college with two goals, get a boyfriend and then a degree. she got a boyfriend, dated him on and off for 7 years and now she's marrying him.

i am the only one to think that's kind of sad. i couldn't settle for an on again off again marriage and divorce in the long run. but then i don't want to be married. matt would do whatever i wanted. if i wanted him to marry me more than anything else, he would. but then i'd have to stand in front of a bunch of people while they pick apart my dress and my flowers and my table arrangements (i know exactly how much his family would hate my "dream wedding"). i have a blender already, i don't need a wedding. and i can have people over to critique my place settings for a lot less money. but i accept that that's just me.

only my floors aren't as clean as hers

heather was recently quoted on how her mental illness keeps her house clean. she really does have the most beautiful floors. i cleaned my whole house this weekend, and it does help with the anxiety. not as good as paxil, but cheaper. i've been in a stranglehold of tension lately. i can't remember the last time i was able to relax.

i should mention that when i was a kid i was one of those people who have to count the stairs everytime they climb them. i had two packs of crayons, one to use and one to keep brand new. i still remember the day that my friend tiffany re-styled valentine barbie's hair while i wasn't watching. you can never do it as pretty as it was in the box and i never could forgive her. but i guess i grew out of it, or learned to live with it. now, most of the time, i can tell myself that little things are indeed little things and i can move on. obviously as i get stressed, this becomes more difficult.

as in, you know you're o.c.d. when you have to butter the boyfriends toast so no crumbs get into the butter. he thinks you're an attentive girlfriend and says "i can do that myself, dear" and you say "no, no, it's no trouble". but really you're trying to keep him from getting toast crumbs in the butter because at 7 a.m. there's nothing more important than keeping toast crumbs out of the butter. but one day this week i was too slow and he beat me to his toast and i had to explain to him how much that bothers me, because i couldn't go to work knowing that the butter was befouled. i think that freaked him out just a little. not quite the last scene in the yellow wallpaper but he's mentioned it once or twice and scanned the butter in his parents house before offering it to me. devoted and freaked out maybe.

that was a long story to say that everything bothers me lately. and i can let nothing go. thank god i'm going on vacation next week. i'm going to relax if it kills me. and i'm not leaving the state. i'm not going anywhere. i'll have a run in the park, i'll watch some netflix, i'll self medicate with half a shot of vodka. i'll fill out that borders application. what if i went to one of my interviews and everything on their desk was askew? i might have a meltdown. then i'll never get out of here. and i have to. if i want to have control over food and exercise i have to give up control of the butter, and the alignment of my dishes on the cupboard and i can't do that when i think of the next 30 years and i'm still counting twenties over a counter to people who think i must be an idiot to work here.

so that's why i'm all "aahhh" about everything and i can't string two words together. because i'm going quietly mad. peace out.

stupid anti-theft device bastards

if you bet it would take me a year to lock my keys in my mom's car, congratulations. you'll be receiving your rice-a-roni shortly. atleast it happened in matt's parents driveway. 'course her car is all fancy and you can't use the traditional slim jim to open the damn doors. but i have spares at home so all we have to do is go back in one car tonight and pick it up. it's not as bad as that time in highschool at the alewife t-station. that was downright unpleasant. never lock your keys in your car in boston. it's what the catholics call limbo and you'll be trapped there forever.

otherwise things are good. matt feels a lot better with the prednisone. he can actually eat. so that's good. me, i'm going off the deep end. the end that has you almost filling out applications at borders. i'm ready for a change. i need to make it before i alienate everyone i currently work for. so i need a new job, again. and then i have to buy a new car, oh and move. it's like a triathalon of stressful shit.

so i have cake for lunch. that's what happens a) when you buy a cake and b) when you spend a fruitless hour trying to unlock your car and you don't have time to cook anything. cake and yogurt. organic yogurt. i get karma points for that atleast.

fun with chrone's

so he has to take prednisone. the superfun drug that made his brother need a hip replacement at 17. but you know what, no one would do a hip replacement on a 17 yearold so they kept him in a wheelchair until they found a solution. WOOHOO! matt only has to take it for a little while and it was his choice, but i really hate that drug. matt's hips aren't so hot either and he has enough to deal with already...but what are we going to do? the drug will make him feel better in the short term and he's willing to take the risk. ugh.

i love words, i use them all the time

i got nothing. matt's going to see his doctor this afternoon. he's been feeling super sick lately so we're going to see what's up. i don't want bad news. i'm very afraid of bad news. more tomorrow.

it's your turn now to stand where i stand

you ever notice how every line of every tori amos song would make a great post title. amazing.

when i was home this weekend, buying myself out of house and home, i saw the best want ad ever. wanted: director of procurement. i could kick some procurement ass. i've got to remember that the next time matt comments about my shopping. it's not a bad habit, it's job training. just like eating cakes is no longer wanton calorie consumption, it's market research. serious dessert demographic studies are taking place in bakeries everywhere i go. i'm nothing if not a professional.

as y'all have been seeing for weeks i've been lacking the motivation to do anything but maintain. or stand stock still (industry term). but i think almost fitting into those 12's at the limited has finally got me motivated. they have a way of cutting their clothes that makes one's ass look like j. lo's. if i'd had a machete and a vacuum handy in the dressing room i would have made those pants fit. and it would have been worth it.

i've had a love/hate relationship with the limited for a few years. ever since they stopped making the 14. when a lot of the big players in the industry started producing larger and larger sizes, they went the other way. that really pissed me off when i first walked in and realized that nothing they sold was going to fit me. they had been there for me all those years while i worked my way up from the size 10 that i never thought was good enough to a size 14 that they discontinued.

i was mad at them, because i got too fat for their clothes. what the hell was i thinking? it is not the store's fault that i ceased to fit into their clothes. they did stop making their 14, but if i almost fit into their 12 that is one hell of a generous 12. regardless, it's not their fault i didn't exercise enough, or cook decent food, or do any of the things that would have kept me a size 10. those faults were all mine and there's no one to blame but myself.

but that store, i love that store. i love the clothes. i love the decor. i love the feeling i get when i'm there. every salesperson was nice to me. none of them gave me the look that says "you're too fat to shop here" even when clearly i am. i wonder about their management structure. that's the kind of store i want to give my money to and i can't. meanwhile the gap, with their uber perky yet passively hostile salespeople and vicious lighting, gets one of my superwoman checks almost monthly.

the limited made a choice to turn away from the money that would surely flow like the mississippi if they stocked clothes for larger women. i wonder what will happen as the skinny become fewer and fewer. will they bring back the 14, add a 16? as much as i applaud retailers who cater to the larger sizes i have to respect the limited for their decision. the gap doesn't stock a 20 because they believe that big is beautiful, they do it for the money.

as much as i don't buy that being fat is necessarily a choice, i don't believe that retailers are bound by duty to cater to everyone. they have a right to meet the needs of whomever they want to. they'll either make money or they won't, that's the bottom line. i re-read one of my old posts where i was maybe a little mean, it was an article about petite women having trouble buying clothes. where is this rule written that says every store has to produce what you want to buy? i'd love to take a copy to the pheasant lane mall and demand that woven skirt in a 14. let's write a rule that says it has to be affordable and tax free too. that would rock.

as always, if you want something you have to go and get it for yourself. we have to show them what we want with our dollars. complaining alone isn't going to make any difference. if you're still not happy, find a tailor. it isn't any more expensive than buying 20 outfits you hate that rot in your closet to end up at the goodwill in 5 years. anyway, my new goal is to fit in the limited's 12. that skirt is the holy grail. as of now.

"what happened to your contacts?" "a dog ran off with them"

this weekend i bought three black sweaters and one brown. like the one dark brown one is going to save me from looking like the devil's receptionist. i bought a pair of shoes i'm already planning to return. i learned that i almost fit into the limited's 12 again. i did actually fit into their size 12 skirt, but i'm not certain i could have sat down (i didn't try and i'm happier this way). and i got a free pretzel at auntie anne's customer appreciation day. i cooked a from scratch meal that my family loved. i didn't track down and perform violence on any of the idiots driving on 295. i bought new cd's at newbury comics and i had a wicked good time doing it.

how was your weekend?

blessed are the forgetful for they get the better even of their blunders

does looking at the clock ever make you hungry. i keep thinking, gee it's almost lunchtime, i must be hungry. like i'm ticking off hours till it's ok to eat again. that's healthy. speaking of which, i just noticed that i've been drinking mold.* it's been a big day here and i can't wait for it to end. this weekd has sucked. yesterday i took in five cat piss soaked checks. now, i looked at my boss and i gave her the "do i have to take these" face and she started talking to the customer so i assumed that yes, i had to take those. and today she says "we don't have to accept anything we don't want to". well shit, if that was the policy why did you let me touch five soaked in cat piss and still very wet checks. for the love of humanity, if your cat ever pees on a months worth of paychecks do me a favor and dry the bastards out before you bring them to the damn bank. direct deposit is beautiful in a whole new way for me now.

and not that you all care about banking, but the five dollar bill situation is making my life hard and my need to find another ben and jerry's milkshake very great indeed. we're running out of fives and you'd think it was the end of the fucking world. if you're not a customer of my bank, i don't have to make change for you. and if you're an asshole, i REALLY don't have to make change for you. even if you're a customer and you work for a business that doesn't bank here, i don't have to give you fives. if you take your deposits someplace else get your change there. i don't care if you're the post office, or you work nextdoor, if you don't have an account here don't give me shit because you have to walk two blocks to get your damn change. if i don't have it, i cannot give it to you. it's that simple. and it may not seem like a big deal, but we actually have to pay to get change. we do this for our customers because they are our customers and we want them to be happy. your national bank having happiness i care not a shit about.

sorry about the rant, i'm going crazy and what therapy is cheaper than a blog? and it has less calories than that shake. i have the feeling that if the shaw's flyers aren't in the post office boxes today i might snap. they call it going postal for a reason, that place is like the bermuda triangle of fuckedupedness. maybe i'll walk to our competitors and barter fives for my sales flyers. black market bills. (if i don't stop now i'll delve into a trenchcoat and brimmed hat fantasy and whoa would that ever stick out in the archives as the day i officially lost my shit. wouldn't want to be obvious...).



*trust me that further explanation will not be appreciated.

country music, the music of pain

i think i was just needlessly aggressive with a tourist on the sidewalk. you know that hand gesture you use when you're driving, the international symbol for "what the fuck", i just had to do that. on the sidewalk. if you, your wife and two kids are taking up the whole sidewalk, you'd think one of you would see me coming toward you. and maybe make room for me, one person, walking the other way. i don't ask much do i?

i don't want to scream profanities all day, i just want to to walk to the grocery store. i was out of cheese sticks, i was on a mission. and i know you're on vacation. i can smell it on you people. it's a full bodied emission from your sock and be-sandled feet to your fanny pack to your bar harbor baseball capped head. and besides, if you lived here i would recognize you. so don't treat me like i'm your problem, i f'ing live here.

it's been a rough week. i am the venerable chairman of the crabby pants society. all hail.

best thing i've read all day

"McDonald's teams up with Hummer, for those who'd rather not have to choose between being fat and being obnoxious".

"we should build a rocket and find our own planet i swear"

or something like that. i've been watching the prices on kids in the hall seasons on half.com. pretty much i put all this great stuff i would love on my wishlist and then actually buy ridiculous things that i end up re-listing the minute i get them. donavon frankenreiter, i'm talking about you. if i can't get up the gumption to defend you when the boyfriend says "is this 1973?" when he hears your music, on the sale rack you must go.

i've been trying to break out of ye olde patterns lately. i've been listening to the same tired music, adding one cd a year since college. it would be easier if i wasn't so cheap but i have been doing some shopping and i can't say it's all been a success. if ever i was in the loop, i'm now officially out. i don't even have an excuse like having children and only listening to puto mayo. my puto mayo entrenched sister still has a better new music selection than i with three kids and a boyfriend who's still rockin' the bee gees. i really must review my budget before my twenties are gone and all i have is a dubbed copy of the white stripes to show for it.

speaking of patterns, everyone seems to be doing their year in review. since it's not my anniversary i won't be doing one but they've got me thinking. as it stands right now i will be nil closer to goal/skinny/preffered maintenance by january. ten pounds a year is no feat to gloat over. i should be reviewing the patterns of taking half a walk because i'm wearing heels and eating too much ice cream because it's on sale along with the rest of my self analysis. those little things are adding up and impeding progress. time to nip it in the bud before it grows into full on i can't fit out the door of my trailer. else i'll be really depressed at my annual review.

fat revolution?

there are now more obese people than starving people. uhm, huh?

which one of you bitches wants to dance?

i wish i had tv just so i could watch bbc america. i just returned to netflix the first series of black books, possibly the funniest first season of any tv show i've ever watched. or maybe i just lust after dishevelled irishmen. who knows? whatever, it's hilarious and i can't stop giggling. and matt says "what's so funny?" and i have to say this show with the funny and this thing happened and then he gives me the look that says i know i asked but i thought it would be better.

see how boring that is, when your girlfriend giggles and then you have to ask why and the reason is never all that funny. is the blog becoming like that? i think it is. i think folks hit my link and expect me to be, like, shedding pounds and sweating to the oldies and what you get is a dialogue on frosting. postmodern masterpiece or serious case of fatal distraction. see, i can't even write anymore. it's serious and fatal because fatal isn't serious enough! apparently.

so, distracted. i awoke last night trying to decide between serving tiramisu in a large round cake form or making individual rounds. this italian cream dessert holds in it's cocoa dusted hands a link in the chain of the future of this business. (dun dun duhhhh) it's going to be under the nose of the owner of one of the bigger and better restaurants in town and it has to be god damn perfect. so perfect that he will ofcourse dump the exquisitely trained pastry chef he has in his employ and hire me. well, obviously not. but it won't fucking hurt will it.

i will get back to the fat. i'm exercising, i keep forgetting to eat, i'm even kicking the perky buns of ana caban in pilates. if that's not a recipe for success i don't know what is. it's all very stressful however and i can't seem to fit it all in my head. and then this morning i read about how my the college where i got my degree is now a joke among it's peers. i'm thinking A. thank god i live so far away. and B. thank god i'm starting a business that is not related to my degree in any way. who'd have thunk i'd be greatful for that one day? there's always a silver lining. (choke, cough, gag)

brevity is the soul of lingerie

god how i love dorothy parker. she is one of the few poets i can read over and over again. and her stories. if you haven't read big blonde, find it. if anyone ever hit the nail on the head with fat literature it's her. but anyway. hi. how y'all doin? the truck pulls were the best we ever saw. you know why, two engines blew up and one truck lost it's rear wheels. nothing like morons breaking their overgrown tonkas to make a spectators day.

what's going on in with the fat? nothing much. except i totally forgot to buy food this weekend. to eat. like all week. no one's going to starve in my house but it's amazing to find myself not thinking about what i'm cooking and when and who for at every moment. i spent all my money on baking supplies anyway. tonight i'm frosting miniature cakes. we bought a reduced set of frosting tips so for practice instead of doing different things on one big cake i'm making miniature tiers. flowers on one, stars on another, and so on. i'm looking forward to it. as jen suggested, miniature cakes could be my thing. and as matt hasn't recieved a birthday cake yet, he could get a tiny wedding cake of his very own. wouldn't he blush?

***edited to add that i bought a cookie dropper on saturday and i used it last night. and i got an even three dozen. to the last scrape of the bowl. if that makes you as hot as it makes me, you should go buy one. now.***

mmm blackbird pie

apparently the state has a website. and all you have to do is type in your proposed business name and it tells you whether it's taken in the state. here are the stats:

The Bakery is sadly gone
Chocolate Moose also gone
Just Desserts was d.o.a. but it's gone too
Icing is gone
Death by Chocolate is available
Chocolat. is available and i'm leaning heavily this way
Cake Factory is available, but i don't love it.

many others were tried, but they were taken and i didn't write it down or i wasn't in love with them. but i definitely think kyra won the cookies for her hilarious efforts if indeed she wants them. if i thought i could answer a phone "cake it up a notch" without snorting laughter it would definitely win.

i have to make a final choice. and then i have to meet the small business people and learn about the prepared food tax and get a permit and also do whatever else they tell me. then i can set up a checking account so when i go to write all this shit off i'll have nice shiny records. not to mention ordering some boxes and cake rounds and pie tins and oh, flour. and then set up the site, and take some damn pictures of all the stuff i have to bake so i'll have an attractive catalogue. even a waffling amateur can look professional with a little care. appearances, appearances. i can always write the bestseller "how not to be a baker" and make millions if this doesn't work out. it's important to have a back up plan.

"i did it to see him eaten not to see you fed"

i spent my evening doing pilates and talking to my sister. we threw names back and forth at eachother for atleast an hour. she came up with no less than 4 baking related verses for rick james' less known hit "super cake". it's super cakey. my seven year old nephew likes king cake and my two year old niece liked all of them. we both liked "icing" but maybe it's too claire's. we went international with pastelles or gateau. pretty much, i have a long list to take to the town (or the state, no one is quite sure, which is why i'm so glad to pay the 3rd highest taxes in the country and still have no useful government). and i have a lead on a kitchen if the lady ever calls me back. apparently "meals for me" has a kitchen to prepare food for the elderly, and sometimes you can rent it. it would be very cool if that worked out. today i'm researching packaging.

anyone else going to the truck pull this weekend? no. just me then. i'll be thinking of you while we watch diesel engines move slabs of concrete through sand. over and over again. but matt is excited so i am excited. it beats our previous plans which were hiking his mountain where his neighbor is baiting bears. matt does not bait and he does not allow baiting on his acreage. however, his closest neighbor does and it's legal and there's nothing we can do about it. so hungry ass bears will be roaming the mountain and despite matt's eagerness to teach me to shoot his plethora of guns...i'm not down. add to that the 500 9mm shells we found on the road and you have me extremely nervous to be moving to amherst.

matt's a little nervous about the shells too. even for an enthusiast, 500 is a lot of shells. being shot down the road. that we all walk up and down. if the things going on in the big bad world aren't enough to keep you on your toes, try idiots with handguns using your driveway for target practice. i've been hoping that they'll wander into one of the neighbors bears, the irony would be overwhelming.

and i have a kitchen! the lady just called and meals for me shares theirs every afternoon and all day on the weekends. i'm taking a tour today. no health inspections, no having to shave the cat. no holds barred. oh my god am i scared.

lumbar strain

i've been practicing my posture lately. or trying to. the pilates helps and i do feel better when i use all those muscles properly. the downside is the cracking noise my spine makes when i realize i'm slumping and i sit up straight. it is the noise of 25 years of slumping being painfully reversed. snap snap snap. cheaper than a chiropractor anyway. snap.

in business news, what do we think of the Chocolate Moose Bakery? too maine? too dorky? it could really work if i had street frontage. tourists love that shit. is it not what i'm going for? i can't decide. i like Chocolat! too, but the website is for a belgian chocolate importer. those belgians, they're why we can't have anything nice. Just Desserts is very taken in San Francisco, the website would be buried. Cake Factory is a possible, but i don't love it. i am taken with calling it The Bakery, using a very simple card and web design. too boring? i thought it was chic. which may be totally off the mark for where i live. these aren't chic people. these are people who get pissed when the roadkill deer gets hit in the stomach 'cause then you can't eat it. but then why do i want to market fudge truffle cake to that crowd?

and furthermore does it bother anyone else when skinny people dress like idiots? such a waste.

loafing around

i have decided to go forth with the business, if only to have something to write off on the taxes...but hopefully it'll mean more. now i have to get to work. i need the kitchen certified and i need a name. since i can't start on getting the kitchen certified until it's got like water and electricity, i have to work on the name thing. so i can start on the website and the catalogue and the professional image/shameless self promotion. i need a domain name and i need a trade name, it would be super cool if they were the same and if they were free of use on the web and or the state of maine. oh, and it should be clever or meaningful or appropriate. i've got till matt forks up ten grand for the electricity to figure it out.*

keeping in mind that maine is home to "curl up and dye" and "hair force one" as profitable businesses (maybe i should go to beauty school) anything goes. i don't want it to be too curl up and dye-esq. i wager not many hostesses would like to say their desserts came from XXX Hot Buns! XXX. clever and respectable wrapped up in one would be good. if anyone has any ideas within those limited quidelines and you promise not to sue me, feel free to share them. if i choose it and you're amenable, i'll send you some cookies. or a bar harbor t-shirt. everyone loves a bar harbor t-shirt.

in other news mr. s. crook is correct in saying stress is a kickass diet. i'm at my lowest weight since starting this blog and it's only been a few days of anxiety. rock on! better than a tape worm. (no points for submitting "better than a tape worm" as a slogan, it's all mine.)



*ten grand, that's a lot you say? welcome to maine.