My brother, who is 17, has just been given a social house. As in a house which will be paid for by benefits. He has been given this property because his girlfriend has the misfortune to take advantage of that genetic quirk provided to females.

She had a baby.

Now for anyone that doesn’t know me I’m just going to point out that I dislike the concepts of babies but on a case by case level I get on quite well with them.

Also she had a baby with a man who isn’t my brother, well I say man, he doesn’t feel the need to provide for his offspring so he can go to hell.

Anyway. They have now got a social house that they have to ‘pay’ £92 a week for. Using their housing benefit which is scarily exactly £92 a week. Lets not mention all the other benefits they get. Neither of them has a job. Neither of them is actively looking for a job. For all that they say they are. I think part of the reason they have been given a house so quickly is that they probably declared themselves as soon to be homeless. This is incorrect. They jut dislike living in my mothers house, as they have to follow her rules, which seems to me to be a pretty fair trade off. Lets look at that equation shall we!

Follow house rules = free accommodation, with no bills, all your meals paid for a willing babysitter who will happily care for your child because you are both too lazy to do so yourselves.

Yeah that’s a pretty shitty deal, anyone would want to get away from that.

-_-

So I’ve recently realised that people oddly like to hear stories about other people’s misery… it makes them feel better about themselves… but honestly when you hang out with two girls whose life seems pretty much something out of a fairy tale all you get are sympathy smiles and than 3 seconds later “OMG my boyfriend is amazing!!” (honestly, I love you but fuck you) but to tell you the truth, the idea of my ex has started to hurt much less… probably because I don’t have any lovey dovey feelings for him anymore. (WHICH IS GREAT!) and I’ve totally day dreamed about this other guy… maybe (no def) way too much, I think he even came out in my dream! I’ve gotta stop. I feel like if I became a lesbian life would be so much easier, I know how girls feel, act and are… ? nahh… I like guys wayy too much.

So why is this week golden? well my school has something amazing called “golden week” basically I get a week off of school, one day (maybe two if I get “sick”) off of work. so yes, this week is golden… now I wish I had someone to spend it with… perhaps the new guy? I have tried to be very peaceful, calm, unannoying so that only good karma will come to me… does that work? I’ve even read the bible! But that was because I wanted to know more about Jesus.

So far.. I’ve got 5 followers, you guys are great:) Soon I’ll be uploading pictures, once my camera is fixed!! I got some pretty instagram worthy stuff to put up! (At least thats what I think?)

So now I’m going to sleep, not because I’m tired… but because there is some WHACK tv show on tv with an African man and two japanese guys talking about something dirty with huge grins on they’re faces, and no I’m not watching porn… its just channel 10 news! Thats what I get for staying up this late tho!!

night:) or morning or afternoon to whereever you are!!

peace!!

One particular individual really struck a cord with me one night as I was talking to him. He wasn’t even that old, 40s maybe. He made the comment to me that he didn’t know how much longer he had to live, but followed it up by saying that he was perfectly fine with it, because he’d enjoyed every second of his life.

This discussion made me think about myself. Am I taking everything in that I could be? I know that there are things in my life that I’ve taken for granted, but I can honestly say that I’m extremely happy with my life and how I’ve gone about it.

There’s a saying that’s been uttered a ton of times by people, but I wonder if they’re actually taking it to heart.

“It’s better to burn out than it is to fade away.”

I look at this saying and look at it as a way to live my life. If I live long enough to have the opportunity, I want to look back and say that I wouldn’t change a thing. As of now, I sure as hell wouldn’t. While I know I’ve screwed up in the past, I know that without those screwups, I wouldn’t be the person that I am today.

People always ask me where I get my energy, why I never stop. I get it from my positive thoughts. I know that life sucks sometimes, but it’s not a reason to bitch. I could have it a lot worse than I do, and I’m extremely happy with that.

Life is too damn short to waste time complaining or worrying about things that you can’t control. You might as well just smile and enjoy it, because you only get to do it once, and you never know when it’ll be all said and done.

“Don’t even think about it!”

This is my pooch, Zeke, with his brand new toy. These are the Totems finally relieved that Zeke laid down. See Zeke got his new toy, excitedly grabbed on to it, and then proceeded to carry it in his mouth and whine around the house for the next thirty minutes. I knew he was happy. I knew he didn’t need to go for a walk, have a drink, or eat anything, so why was he whining? It was that moment that made me consider how similar we are to dogs sometimes. We hopefully get up in the morning in a nice warm bed with a roof over our heads knowing that we’ll be able to shower, pour ourselves a cup of joe, and maybe even toss a pop-tart in the toaster. How wonderful?! So why then do we spend a lot of time whining. Yes, I said it. We are a bunch of whiners and complainers, when in reality most of us have more blessings than we know what to do with! So you didn’t get that promotion? It stinks, but there will be others! That guy you thought was so cute didn’t call? Big deal, I promise, there will be others. Your daughter didn’t get in to that prestigious, expensive preschool? Well, too bad, she’ll likely grow up to be a spoiled brat anyway! You gained a few pounds? Hey, that spells shopping spree to me! Ok, we all need to gripe and moan every once in a while, but this is a reminder to be grateful for what you have and for what you don’t have. If you find yourself on a whining jag, think about how annoying it is when your kids do it, and promptly stop! Totems don’t just help when you are anxious or scared, they can also help to remind you to think positively, to stay in the present, and to quit your bitching!

Stay well. 

To learn more about Totem Tamers, visit our website at www.totemtamers.com. You can also find us on Facebook!

hehe, tuesday…OMG TUESDAY!!! It was one of those days were i should have stayed in bed! Before lunch there were 7 falls that needed band-aids, two that didn’t, we almost had to rush a child to the hospital, a teacher went home with strep, i was pooped on (monday the kids had burgers for lunch which cause them to all have diarrhea), the dishwasher broke, and i twisted my ankle diving to catch a 2 year old before he fell on his head. I don’t even want to get into what happened after lunch.

Yesterday, not only did i get asked by a three-year-old if i had nipples and if she could see them, we had a couple of issues in the parking lot. I wanted to go train, but was kept after work for a good hour. Not only did one set of parents have car issues that required repairs, but another one locked her five-year-old in the car. I am not sure why, but the child was unable to unlock the door. My child was able to unlock the car door when she was two(she is now 7), and my niece has been able to for along time and she’s three…so the fire department was called. The fire trucks blocked most of the exit to the parking lot, and the county sheriffs blocked the rest. I know that i should have been more sympathetic and wishing for the child’s safety and all the crap, but i know this girl. I also know that she was able to get the lock open but chose not to…i know this because she eventually did. It took them almost and hour to get her to unlock the door.

This morning (Thursday), I was informed that one of my three-year-old’s would not be joining us. This particular child has an issue. when she doesn’t get what she wants she kicks, hits, scratched, yells, and bites. I have had to hold her down several times to prevent her from seriously hurting people. Her parents always say something along the lines of “oh, she never does that at home,” which i know is crap. How do i know this? Because she spent today in an emergency room getting stitches. She pitched a fit in front of one of her roosters, and he didn’t like it. He attacked her face. The REAL issue is that they give her what she wants, when she wants it. I have seen it happen. Her dad even stole a book from the school because she wanted it and wouldn’t stop crying until she got it. Soooo, he took it to make her happy.

Now, i know that i am bitching, and that i sound like i really don’t like the kids, but that isn’t true. I love these kids, even the irritating ones. I am constantly coming up with new and fun things to do. I also give the kids more personal attention than anyone else. I also am more willing to sit and hold a child if they are having a bad day. However, there is only so much I can handle before i need to bitch. Now that i have gotten it off my chest, i am well prepared for tomorrow. I think i will get the face paint out!

Disclaimer: Not for those who are overly sensitive about everything.

I’ve been in a sour mood these couple of days because of my bloated tummy, which is my own fault because I’ve been snacking too much Pringles and eat no fruit at all. Guess the PMS is attacking.

Anyhow, I don’t have any moral-of-the-story kind of post to write about, so I will be writing what I’m really good at: bitching. Haha!

Long time ago, someone told me that my blog had so many positive posts and had inspired him, which flattered me of course. It is true that I mostly write about dare to dream, being positive and believe on things. I am a positive person, I know that. But if you know me in a real life, you would probably realize this: I bitch A LOT.

As much as I want to keep my bitching in the real life only and filter my output on my blog to be mostly positive (because I like to re-read my posts over and over again and love to see the positive posts) sometimes I couldn’t help to bitch out. It turns out my post of bitching about marriage hit my personal record of daily hit. The hit is doubled up from the usual hit. Guess people love to see some dirt.

So I told myself, it’s okay for you to bitch out once in a while. It’s nice to bitch out and be heard. If people get offended, then it’s their problem.

Owkaayy, enough for the prologue. In this post, I will talk about the top five things that I found useless and wasting money and time. Some of you might not agree, but again, that’s your problem. I’m not looking for a validation, I’m just bitching. X-p

Buying branded bags

Seriously, I don’t know why people would buy a bag for a freaking $3,000?!!! I’ve been trying to put a sense into that but seriously, the more I think about it, the more confused I get. I tried once to talk to my friends who love to buy branded bags and they said when women get older, they’ll want it. Branded bags are like wisdom, you’ll get it when you’re matured enough. (What? Really?)

I think I’ve grown enough to call myself woman, and still I don’t want that, even the cheaper version like LV. Let me get this straight first: In Singapore, it is very common for a man to buy his date an LV bag. The cost of LV bag is about S$1,200 which should only cost about 20-25% or a man’s monthly salary. It’s like a society validation to prove that you are capable to feed your woman. (Or implicitly telling that you have money to shower a girl with gifts.)

It is pretty common for a guy to buy his lady an LV bag (or Chanel or Prada if he’s richer) on A FIRST DATE. It shows that he wants to be serious in a relationship. Ohhh… What a messed up world we live in.

When Bandi and I were hanging out with my friends who talk about branded bags, one of my friend’s boyfriend asked Bandi “Have you prepared to buy May a bag?” and Bandi was laughing, “She’s not into bag.” Then the girls stared at me in disbelief, “No waaaay!!! Maybe you just haven’t found the right bag!”

No Ladies, I have found mine. This Mango Bag I’ve been using for the last 2 years costed only $60. You want to talk about quality? I wear this bag every single day for the last 2 years to work! How’s that for a $60 quality?? Geez!

It’s not like I’m very stingy to spend time for my looks. I’m still a girl who loves to shop. But buying a $3,000 bag is just….. Arrgh, I can’t find the right word for it. Let me know if you find one.

And and and… there’s this ‘tradition’ in Singapore that the man will be the one who brings his lady’s bag.

Photo taken from http://meginsing.blogspot.sg/

What’s the point of having a branded bag if you ask your boyfriend holding it??? And men, if you’re holding your girlfriend’s bag, you’re a pussy!!!

Rhoma Irama running for President.

He’s running for president. It’s literally running for the position of president of Indonesia. Literally. Oh how I wish it meant running towards the president. OH!!!!

He’s REALLY thinking about running for president. REALLY.

What, wait, REALLY??? REALLY????

Do you really want me to start bitching about it? Do you??? DO YOU?!!!

(Let’s just pretend I never talk about Rhoma Irama on my blog.)

Okay… NEXT!

Going abroad with tour

I know a lot of people doing this but this really doesn’t make sense to me. Why people are using some touristy Tour Agent’s itinerary and just sit back and relax on the tour bus, when planning a trip is a fun part of the traveling itself? And remember, it’s not an adventure unless you’re lost somewhere.

It’s not like I’m a travel agent-virgin. I do go on a day tour like Phi-Phi Island Tour or Halong Bay Tour because apparently that’s the only way to go. I also will give excuse if you on tour with your parents because some parents don’t like adventure and they just want to go jalan-jalan on a tour. But seriously, I don’t understand why young people want to go on a travel agent’s tour such as “8 magical day in Korea” or “15 amazing days in Australia”. Geez, what’s so magical and amazing about sitting on a bus with people talking about a foreign culture on your own laguage?!

Isn’t traveling worth more than just taking pictures of yourself and a landmark? It’s supposed to be meeting local people, eating local food, get lost in a foreign city and find your way back and learn something new.

Traveling is the only thing you buy that makes you richer.

Remember that. =)

If the old folks who didn’t have internet back then could go abroad without a tour, then your excuse of “I don’t know anything about the country” should just go to hell.

People watching “Keeping up with The Kardashians”

Enough said.

Pre-wedding photo

Until now, I don’t understand what’s the purpose of pre-wedding photo? Please please tell me what the purpose is. If it’s simply for fun, then it’s an expensive useless fun. I don’t understand why can’t we just use the photos from holiday or possible one-time indoor studio for a header photo of your wedding? Should we really pay so much money for taking photos on our wedding gown, pretend to melancholy glare to some sunset further away?

Don’t be offended. It’s individual preference to do pre-wedding photoshot. Some of my close friends do that and I still say this in front of their faces, “For me it’s useless.” But hey, everyone is different, if you wanted to do it then do it, regardless how mean I might bitch about it.

Isn’t pre-wedding photoshot expensive? And Why do most people choose pre-wed photos over a honeymoon?! Why why whhhyyyy???

I really don’t get it why people do that… whhhhyyyy? Why don’t you just use the pictures you already had when you were two dating? Why do you need to spend extra money just for a pre-wed photos? I reaaaally don’t understand.

I will give an excuse if it’s free. But paying for pre-wed photos? Who would do that???

Well, I never plan any wedding, maybe I don’t know shit about how wedding should be. Maybe it is supposed to be with pre-wed photos. But, aren’t wedding supposed to be whatever you want to?

But again, if you want to spend money for pre-wed photos, it’s your call. It’s your money anyway. I hope it’ll be well spent. (NOT)

Ahhhh, what am I talking about? I never had a branded bag, never met Rhoma Irama in person, never went on a tour trip, never watched “Keeping up with the Kardashians” and never planned a wedding. What do I know, right??

So yeah, now my blog is not so inspirational anymore, huh, Keven? Hahaha.

Cheers,

May, bitching out online.

Here’s the deal: I’m a pin hoarder. And a bit of a miser. And definitely lazy.

There are three options of what to do with my lesser-wanted pins:

1) Add them to The Project.

Pros: The Project needs pins.
Cons: Once it’s in there, it’s in there. It’s Pin Jail, and it’s got a life sentence. This is a pretty big commitment.

2) Sell them on eBay.

Pros: Money!!!!
Cons: “Money!!!!” may only end up being $1 per pin, possibly less when you factor in the cost of envelopes.

3) Trade them on PinPics.com

Pros: MORE PINS!!!!
Cons: Do you know how many hours it’ll take me to set up my lists of what I have available to trade and what I’m looking to trade for?? Not to mention that the long-term result of this would be no money earned, an abandoned Project, and a “permanent” collection of pins so large I don’t know how to possibly store or display even a fraction of them.

I just don’t know what to do!!!

I started today by listing two pins for auction. I got pretty excited, my greedy juices flowing, salivating over the potential profit that could await. I decided to list even more! In conjunction with my listings, I’m also linking to the pin’s PinPics page so that any potential buyers can see the full information about the pin, as well as doing my own research to see how many of that specific pin are already for sale on eBay and if there’s any interest.

This would be how I learned that it seems no one wants to pay me any money for my patriotic Tinker Bell pin (and that her name is actually two words: Tinker Bell, as opposed to the Tinkerbell I’d been using for years), but that if I were to simply spend the hours required to set up my trades list, I could most definitely trade it out for a great pin in return.

Needless to say, I never listed any more than those first two auctions, and I’ve been sitting here ever since surrounded by pins and no idea what to do with them.

First World problems, amirite?

This brings me to the discussion at hand. I have met a new person, I’ll call him Jack, a non committal name that could belong to anyone right? Haha even if his name was Jack, you wouldn’t know him from Adam (see what I did there?), any way Jack messaged me at the end of a long and arduous day to tell me that he had had lunch with some construction workers outside his house. I think he may have been proud of the fact that he took time out of his upper class life to sit down with a few people who had no command of the English language and share his time with them. I can see how in his mind this would have looked super hipster from the outside world. Perhaps he even took his macbook out to show them some you tube videos (ok, I’m just being a bitch now … and my imagination is running away with me). Anyway I asked him a simple question, “were they nice” to which he replied that he couldn’t understand them and then he made a point of saying that everyone is nice when you take the time to smile. Now I know that this is not true, when I smile at people in my home country, they look at me like I am a retard. I make the habit of smiling at people in the lift who suddenly become very interested in their smart phone.. So I told him that it was nice to meet someone who wasnt cynical. He took this as me being elitist or racist so he went off on a high and mighty we are all the same, we are born, we die and when you cut us we bleed red and just because we live our lives differently does not mean we are different blah, blah, blah heard it a thousand times before.

You only hear people singing this tune when they are talking about someone who they feel alienated from or different to. It is the standard phrase that society has taught us in this world of political correctness. Someone please shoot me dead if we are all the same, what is the fucking point of living, having ambitions, of me writing this blog that is read by five people once in a blue moon. If the fact that we are born, die and bleed makes us all the same I might as well thow all my moral standing, calvin klein dresses and agent provocateur underwear out of the window. What the fuck would be the point, even Marx did not see it as black and white as that. Also we are not born the same, some people are born in a field, others in a hospital, some are cut out of their mother’s wombs. The same with death, we die very differently. The moment you start preaching about how you don’t care if a person is black or asian, or educated, or takes a bath everyday you are a delusional fucking ass who is probably very aware of his social standing and how he is perceived by society. In fact societal norms kick in and this bullshit of political connectedness seems to come out of nowhere.

So what I want to say is if you are ever feeling preachy or higher than thou take a step back and reevaluate because if you feel the need to up or down yourself by calling everyone the same you are doing yourself and the entire world a disservice. Show people respect by treating them like people, by taking the time to find out if they actually are nice, because I know a few bad apples who will smile right back at you while pushing a sharp stiletto into one of your kidneys. If we are all the same why are we all striving for individuality? Why is normal the new black sheep. It’s so fucking cool to be weird now, to get singled out. Hell I do it. I will go and get a jerseylicious blowout when going to see metallica … and the reaction of the hardcore rockers always astounds me. I get more bullied by the sub culture that I am inherently part of than I do when I go to a jock night club in a band t-shirt rocking pink hair and a bottle of bear. I’m just saying that we live in an age where everyone feels like they are under attack, where people feel like they have to justify every decision and push boundaries when there are none. I feel like the packaging has become the most important part of a human. Strip us naked and shave us completely, tape our mouths shut and block our ears we will still not be the same. Psshhhhttt!!

From today onwards I PLEAD IGNORANCE!! Fuck this, I’d rather be an animal frolicking in the fields than some punk who preaches that we are all the same.

RANT OVER

Well, I work with one of those. She has irritated every.single.fiber of my being. I can no longer be held accountable for what I say to her because I just can’t stomach being nice anymore. Nope, not after what happened yesterday.

Before I begin though I need to add that yes at times I’ve been known to bitch. Heck, my most popular posts on here are about me bitching, but bitching is just part of the way I cope with life and I’m not forcing anyone out there to listen. I’m just saying, I actually got the short end of the stick here, I think with all I go through I’m allowed to bitch about my life. I’ll let you be the judge of whether or not this girl is allowed to complain or not.

Our office decided to do a $20 dollar, three session, introduction to kick boxing. I should say most of my office complains of being overweight. Since everyone is actually heavier than me I don’t complain, I also don’t think I’m fat, I also don’t care, working out isn’t my thing. But I decided to try it and if you read the post I wrote about it, I actually liked it and didn’t hurt so bad after.

Well they went on Tuesday. I backed out because a) I was having a horrible day and didn’t want to over do it and b) I’ve run out of pain medication. I was not going to willingly push myself, all you Fibro sufferers out there know exactly what I’m talking about.

They all went and apparently it was torture. They said it wasn’t even as fun as last time. I’m glad I backed out, from the sounds of it I would have died.

Yesterday at work this one girl however, kept saying, every five minutes, “ow, I’m in so much pain”, “oh, it really hurts”, “man I really feel it”, I think you get the point. She did this from 11am straight until 5pm. Every time she moved, she grunted and sighed. I was so irritated.

Now mind you, if you’ve got a reason to be in pain, I’ll allow you complaints. I know I complain when it’s bad. But I need to clarify that I only complain when it’s really bad and I just kind of say it out loud so people know not to expect much from me. However, no one cares, so I go about doing my work. There have been times at work where I’ve said, I’m having a bad day, I’m in a lot of pain, and I’ve just had to sit at my desk, not being able to get comfortable, with tears streaming down my face. I’m not trying to cry, it just happens. You know what I mean, when the pain gets so intense your eyes just start watering. And yet, I trudge through, no one cares, they make me do the same amount of work.

So this girl constantly complaining keeps bothering me. Finally I snap and I turn to her and say, “Listen Emily, if you complain one more time about how much pain you’re in I’m going to smack you.” And bam, instantly, the WHOLE office turns it on me. I swear to you, in a chorus they go, “You’re one to talk, you always complain.”

WHAT

THE

HELL!!!

I have a chronic pain disease! I live in constant, sometimes unbearable pain, every, single, second, of my life! There is NOTHING I can do about it. I take heavy narcotics just to dull the pain. And this girl, who was in pain because she worked out, because she complains she’s fat, get’s a free ticket to bitch?

What I need to know is am I out of line? Am I seriously that deluded? Is it really not rude to complain to someone who suffers from a chronic pain disorder about your exercise pain? I just need to know if I’m going crazy or not. Most importantly I need to know how often this happens to other people. I can’t be the only person who’s experienced this.

Venting is a very important exercise. There is a fine line between venting and gossip. Gossip is harmful and indiscriminate. To really vent, I think, requires a careful choice in the receiver of your rant. It also seems to require a certain amount of control. A vent, it seems, needs to be more about you and less about the problem(s) other the other people (persons) are giving you.

From the ever useful urban dictionary:

I think sometimes people get carried away and start “venting” too much. That’s when it becomes bitching, moaning, groaning, gossiping, etc. I think for a rant to really be a vent, some pressure has to be built up, it can’t be the same old gripe.

So, here’s to venting. And to being an adult and getting on with it afterward!

Anyways, I’m coming off a monster java high from trying to stay awake at my tedious boring job that I love because it isn’t my previous job and pissed off at a guy…. So what better time to start a blog. I’m not classy (you’d think I was if you saw the way I dress), I have a mouth like a drunk sailor and I don’t have a filter that goes from my brain to my mouth. That’s enough about me.

I have always wanted to start a food blog, but this isn’t it. I’m sure ill post shit about food because I am a fat kid. This is more than likely going to be just me bitching about stuff that pisses me off.

for instance why the hell can’t I get laid? I’m not a slut by any means (yeah yeah sluts always say they aren’t sluts), but after about 6 months of only your hand and a piece of plastic you get fucking desperate. I know I’m not the most attractive girl out there, but I wouldn’t say I’m ugly. I know who is and isn’t in my league and what I can get and can’t. But Jesus. It’s like I have to lower my standards for guys who just had their mom bathe them after their LARPing practice. I want sex. We want it just as much as Males. So give it to us. Don’t play games. 95% of females are fucking stupid and ruin sex with randos for the other 5% of us because after going to down town pound town your dumb ass is ready to meet the guys parents. Fuck that. If I’m using you for sex that’s all I want. Sure I want a relationship, but not with someone who’s going to sleep with me five minuets after I meet them (which is all guys I know, but show some class fellas and keep it in your pants for five dates).

But on the other hand who wants to sleep with a girl who dresses nice, but talks like their alcoholic father who beat them as a child.

Hopefully I’m not as sexually frustrated next time I post. I need to go see if there is an app for this stupid site since it keeps messing up on my iPad. Don’t claim to be an Internet tablet if you aren’t going to work right when I’m using the interwebz. So I’m done.

What you’ve dreamed of, what you’ve been fighting for all this time… was already in front of your eyes, just one more step. Then, suddenly it was stomped, crushed into pieces in front of you just because of an arrogant person. So, this is how a heartbroken feels. The hard way. My dream was crushed, my parents’ hope was crushed. Cuma gara-gara orang itu lagi orang itu lagi.

Now I know, nothing is precise in this world. You may be laughing now with your friends, then the very next second you can be crying.  And I learned it the hard way. Now I just wanna stay in my room and cry until next year.

Yesterday I was all over the Paleo Parents blog.  Stacy freakin’ rocks! What an inspiration! She put it all out there…and I mean ALL lol. It’s really funny how we chose to see ourselves and those close to us. I was going through Stacy’s blog post with my wife and I said “I look like that! My belly hangs like that!” and her response was complete denial of this fact. Granted, I’m only 167 lbs, but I have a gut, I’m only 5 feet tall. Most of my friends have one too and we have ALL struggled to get healthier. Getting healthier cannot only mean eating right. I have hidden behind this for too long; so have my friends. You have to have some level of physical exertion + eating better to be successful. Especially when you weigh as much as I have in the past (240 at my highest), and do now, and as much as many around me do!  We are ALL in denial on some level. Stacy fucking did it! And she was 336 lbs when she started…and now she looks amazing but more importantly she FEELS amazing!

The running joke is that I am allergic to the e word…exercise lol. Well, guess what? In order to FEEL better part of what I have to do is get off my lazy, fat ass and just do the damn thing.  Don’t get offended that I call myself a fat ass! It’s TRUTH! Remember, I don’t coddle! Not even with myself…a spade is a spade is a spade. If you complain to me, I will tell it like it is.  My main intention is to FEEL GREAT most days. By doing so I know I will lose weight in the process…it’s common sense.

I know that I have emotional highs from eating sugar and carbs. It’s like a drug…I guess from everything I have read, it really IS a drug to our bodies and minds. I am addicted to Coke Zero. I call it crack in a can, SMH. I go days without drinking water sometimes…so gross, right? So I know purging and detoxing this stuff is going to be necessary at some point in this process. I’m just not looking forward to the withdrawal

What prompted all this BEFORE I obsessed about and aptly stalked the Paleo Parents blog? Well, we try to eat “paleo like” quite often. If I could just get over my fucking bread obsession we’d be pretty successful at it, I think.  Sunday’s dinner consisted of a great steak, grilled with scallions. Simple! It’s one of our favorite go to meals.

I let the steaks come to room temp, drizzle a little coconut oil on them, season with garlic, black pepper, sea salt, paprika, white pepper, and ground mustard, and we grill them, depending on how thick, for about 5 minutes a side. Wonderfully medium The grilled scallions are seasoned with a little salt and pepper.

Here are some pics:

I think we can do this paleo stuff and be successful!  I need to remind myself to take baby steps so I don’t set myself up for failure. I will make that damn white bread first however!

Xo,

TJ

1) I’d like to point out that not only does doing a solo Disney trip allow you to do whatever you want, it also allows you to not do whatever you want. What I’m about to say may come off as sacrilegious, but here it is — I skipped the following:

- Kilimanjaro Safari ride (yes, even though I had a fast pass and could’ve walked on to the ride)
- Going into any of the countries at the World Showcase other than Mexico (I needed to pick up Pablo Jean) and the UK.

There I was, in Animal Kingdom, in the Africa region with just the Safari ride left before I planned on heading out, and I thought, “I’ll pass.” And there was no one to stop me! I’ve been on the ride dozens of times, and while it is beautiful and the animals are cool, I just wasn’t in the mood. I apologize to the lions, elephants, and newly added zebras.

As for the countries, I know what’s in there. It never changes. And while I love what’s in there, it was pretty crowded that afternoon, and I was running low on funds — why tease myself? Hence I kept to the food and drink booths, eventually made my way to Mexico, and then PJ and I were off to the Polynesian with nary a care in the world (except, perhaps, the diminishing funds).

2) Just as a clarification to my Flower and Garden Festival review: I would like to point out that I actually like flowers and gardening (this year’s garden is already up and running and should be amazing! I even got a new chilli plant that’s hotter than a ghost chilli!!!!!). So in case you thought, “well, gardening isn’t for everyone!” No, it’s not. But it is for me, and I still thought this festival could’ve been a little more interesting.

Then again, perhaps the festival was trying to target non-gardeners. One of the questions the non-public-speaking-professional asked us in the herb gardening class was, “how deeply should the herb be planted in its new pot?” Answer: at the same level as it already is. Sadly, even though a woman was able to provide this answer, the instructor seemed shocked and noted that she was the first to get that correct in weeks. Seriously?? Who is removing a plant from the disposable plastic container and then burying it in a new pot all the way up to the leaves or something?? Wow.

3) In case anyone cared to know, here’s what I actually ended up doing on a daily basis; perhaps you can see why I really racked up those miles.

Thursday:
- Straight to Hollywood Studios
- Ate dinner at the Tune-In Lounge (aka the bar area of the Prime Time Cafe — meaning no wait for a seat, but the same menu!).
- Rode Star Tours (no wait), Aerosmith Rockin’ Roller Coaster (also no wait for the single rider line), shopped, and was at the bus by 9:40.
- At the hotel by 10:20 (there was quite the wait for a bus, but I managed to pass the time by making friends with a couple collecting Chip and Dale pins. I gave them one off my lanyard in order to earn Good Pin Karma for the rest of the trip).

The Tune-In Lounge

Friday:
- Arrived at Magic Kingdom at 8:45 in time for rope drop at 9:00.
- Rode Buzz Lightyear, Winnie the Pooh, Goofy’s Barnstormer, Space Mountain, Splash Mountain, Thunder Mountain, Haunted Mansion, and was then in line for Be Our Guest by 11:30 for lunch.
- Found a limited edition pin on the ground (thank you, Good Pin Karma).
- Rode Thunder Mountain again and shopped my way down Main Street (Pirates was closed for the time being) and out of the park by 3:15.
- Caught bus to the Beach Club Resort and pin stalked my way around the Boardwalk Resort loop, stopping in at the Compass and Ale Lounge for a habanero margarita and of course, the Belle Vue Room as well.
- Dinner at Kouzzina at 6:30. Was pretty much the best day ever.
- Caught a bus from the Boardwalk to Downtown Disney by 7:30.
- Got angry and frustrated at DTD; was at the bus stop by 9:15, but sadly didn’t make it back to the hotel until 10:00. Not the best night.

Saturday:
- Arrived at Animal Kingdom at 8:30 for rope drop at 9:00.
- Rode Everest twice, shopped, pinstalked, saw Flights of Wonder, and at an early lunch at the Flame Tree Barbecue at 11:00.
- Used my Fast Passes on Dinosaur and Everest and decided to head out by 1:00.
- Got on a bus to the Dolphin and did the Boardwalk pin loop again, eventually making my way to Epcot by 2:00.
- Ate at France’s Garden festival booth, then the US’s, then a beer from Germany (that was ironically a Floridian beer), some food from the China booth, a margarita and Pablo Jean from Mexico, and the final course from the Florida food booth on my way out of the World Showcase.
- One more stop for shopping, and then we were on the monorail by 5:15.
- Polynesian for Backscratchers, then off to the Grand Floridian for pins, and then I said, “I didn’t get my Pirates fill yesterday; to the Magic Kingdom!”
- Walked into MK, straight to Pirates, rode that, then shopped a bit and was at the bus by 8:30.
- Yes, that’s right, I arrived at my hotel by 9:00 — a personal earliest. I pinstalked my own hotel, got some Jim Beam from the gift shop, and ended up getting a rather amazing turkey sandwich with cucumber salad from the hotel’s cafeteria to take back to my room.

Sunday:
- My itinerary said Epcot all day and maybe the Boardwalk loop before heading back to the hotel to catch the airport bus, but I said, “No! To the Magic Kingdom again!!!!” Was there by 8:30 for rope drop at 9:00.
- Rode Space Mountain, Jungle Cruise, Pirates, Splash Mountain, and was then eating a waffle sandwich by 10:30.
- Followed up breakfast with a ride on It’s a Small World, complete with my taking a video and sending it to Hank. I’m a good girlfriend.
- Then Haunted Mansion and Thunder Mountain and finally on my way to the monorail to Epcot by 12:30.
- Got a Fast Pass to Soarin’ and then proceeded to find ways to waste time until my 2:30 lunch reservation. Since it started to rain, this mostly involved hiding out in the Rose and Crown while drinking.
- After lunch I made my way to the Festival Center for the disappointing herb class.
- Then on to Test Track, which, as I was about 20 people from the front of the line, shut down due to more rain. I waited for about 45 minutes before giving up and exiting out the back, heading toward Mexico for another margarita and to steal a poncho.
- At 5:40, it was time to return to Soarin’ and then sadly make my way to the hotel to catch the 7:05 bus to the airport.

4) A note about Fast Passes: Disney is currently unrolling a giant new undertaking that will change how park passes, room keys, dining plans, credit cards, and even Fast Passes are treated and used. The plan is being implemented in phases, with the new Fast Pass system seemingly being held for last, but once it’s out there, it will change any and all need to be a Fast Pass whore and/or run all over the parks trying to maximize times and achieve Fast Pass greatness.

The new plan will let you get your Fast Passes on Disney’s mobile app or online up to 60 days in advance! Meaning instead of sprinting to Toy Story Midway Mania as soon as the park opens to ensure that you have one of the first Fast Passes (or one of the only Fast Passes, as they tend to be sold out within an hour or two), you could have already obtained your Fast Pass weeks ago. You can even select your time frame as opposed to being told what time you need to show up. Mornings at the park can now be spent leisurely sipping on coffee and enjoying waffle sandwiches instead of racing other park patrons to popular rides.

Of course, as with any change, there are already plenty of nay-sayers fighting against this. Common complaints are coming from non-Type-A personalities who don’t want to have to plan out their vacation down to the hour 60 days in advance. Other complaints involve, “there’s too much technology involved! What if I don’t have a smart phone?!?” To these people I say, get over it, get organized, and join the 21st century. I think the system will be pretty cool. Obviously, there may need to be adjustments along the way (they will need to think of something to address the fact that, just like reservations at Le Cellier, Midway Mania will likely sell out in its 60 day previous window, leaving anyone trying even a month before their vacation to get a Fast Pass out of luck), but all in all, I think it’s a great concept.

5) I know you never thought you’d hear me say this, but here it is: I think the Pin collection is getting out of control.

Mind you, I don’t say “out of control” as a bad thing. Just a statement as to my confusion and sudden inability to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Back in February, when I was to be at Disney World for five days with My Mother and Haley, I ended up coming home with 212 pins. The most I ever traded for in a single day was 63, and that was by far a much larger number than any other day — a real anomaly.

Thus when preparing for this three day trip, I was almost embarrassed to be bringing about 215 pins to trade. Surely this was overkill to a greedy and ridiculous level. But I assured myself that I’d never actually need that many — it was just a safety net! We’d be just fine.

You can imagine my shock, then, when come Saturday night, after doing my nightly inventory back at the hotel, I had only three tradeable pins left for all of Sunday. Yes, in just a little over two days, I managed to trade out 212 pins.

What to do?? Clearly, the answer was to become more picky. I needed to go through what I’d gathered in the first three days and figure out what wasn’t that special or cool. But there was a problem with even that seemingly obvious concept: Not only am I collecting pins to keep in my permanent collection, but I’m also collecting pins with which to make a craft project. If I suddenly started trading away all pins that weren’t rare or amazing, then I’d be left with nothing to craft. I suddently ended up with multiple Ziplock baggies, each one a different category of “keep,” “project,” “maybe for the project?”, “trade?” I don’t know. It was confusing. I’m still confused. All of the bags are on my loveseat in my office right now, and I’ve yet to have the time to sit down and see just what came home with me!

However, in case you’re interested, here’s the project I’m aiming to copy and reproduce:

Oooooh! Ahhh!

Just take a look at the price tag, and you’ll understand why I’m aiming to make this myself.

Please fill my family in on this for me, apparently after all these years they still don’t get it.
I’m feeling a strike coming on.

Pretty things help

Kisses,
Jen

How was my vacation, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you: it was fan-frickin-zippidy-doo-da-tastic!

I will confess now that I had my doubts going into it. Sure, I love Disney World, and sure, I love spending time by myself. But 3.5 days all alone, no one to talk to, no one to share moments with, no one pinstalk with? I started to wonder just what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

Turns out, I needn’t have worried. Instead, I had the time of my life and learned a lot along the way. I shall now present to you a mini-travel guide, Disney For One: How to Do It All Without Being a Sad, Lonely Weirdo.

Chapter 1: How Do I Make People Stop Staring at Me?

What people? One of the first things I figured out was, no one really seems to notice that you’re Disneying by yourself. If you’re alone on a bus, people assume you’re meeting someone somewhere. If you’re on Everest by yourself, people assume the rest of your party were pussies (there are Single Rider lines for a reason). And when you’re dining alone, turns out people think you work there. This also runs true if you’re riding Winnie the Pooh alone.

Yes, I had not one, but two different cast members as me if I were a cast member, too. I’ve never been so flattered. This is my version of being backstage at some Victoria’s Secret party and having Bar Rafaeli ask you if you’re also a model. The first time it happened, I was boarding the Winnie the Pooh ride by myself at 9:15 on a Friday morning. The cast member operating the ride asks how many in my party, I say “one,” and he replies, “oh, are you a cast member?” As if there’s no other plausible explanation for why I’d be rocking the kiddie rides on a random weekday. At least he didn’t ask, “oh, are you a pedophile?”

As a side note, after three days, I started to wonder if the cast members are required to ask how many people are in your party, even when it’s pretty clear that I’m standing there alone, and there’s no one in line behind me. It’s like they were giving me a chance to provide an explanation or excuse; “I’m a party of three! Can’t you see my friends right here — wait, where’d they go?? They must be hiding. How funny! Oh well, I guess I’ll just board this giant honey pot by myself and meet up with them later.”

The second time I was asked about my employment status was when checking in for my reservation at Le Cellier. The cast member there explained that cast members often dine by themselves. Fascinating. Good to know that if I ever go to work for Disney, I can continue my solo missions.

Oddly enough, at one point during my Le Cellier meal, what I had assumed to be a lesbian couple at a table near me but turned out to be mother and daughter (my bad) spoke out to me and said, “we just had to know… why are you dining alone?” I explained my sojourn into the wilderness of Disney where I’d eventually find my spirit animal after ingesting enough martini flights. They nodding appreciatively and asserted, “you must make loads of money!” No, no I don’t. I just spend loads of money. My financial philosophy is as twisted as my math. They followed that up with enthusiastically recommending the Disney Cruise Line and uttering the statement, “we’re drinkers,” at least six times as part of their endorsement. Did you know that on the Disney Cruise ships, there are fancy restaurants that don’t allow children?? Tempting…

Chapter 2: Scheduling and Karma

My whole life, I’ve been crippled with an inability to properly estimate timing, usually far underestimating just about everything. What I think will take five minutes takes five hours, and what I think should be a simple task ends up being my Everest. This holds especially true when I create my Disney itineraries, as I like to think, “the Magic Kingdom is only a five minute drive from the hotel!” and forget all about the walking ten minutes to the bus stop, waiting 20 minutes for a bus, making four other stops along the way, and then standing in a line to enter the park. No wonder my usual Disney travel companions think I run them ragged — most of the running is to make up for the travel time estimates I fucked up on.

Yet the strangest thing kept happening over the past four days; I was early to everything, and nothing took as long as I assumed it would.

My initial Thursday schedule looked like this: Land at 5:00, be walking into Hollywood Studios by 7:00.

If you’ve ever used the Disney Magical Express and stayed at a Disney Resort before, you can see how that’s a pretty dumb estimate. But I was sticking to it, because I didn’t want to believe in the alternative: that it would take 3.5 hours and I’d be standing in more lines outside of the theme parks than in them. Add to that the fact that my flight was delayed 40 minutes.

But through the magic of Disney, the angel Walt sprinkled pixie dust down upon me, and I somehow landed at 5:25 (time made up in the air), had no wait for the Orlando airport tram, walked onto the awaiting Magical Express, waited all of 30 seconds before it departed, was the first of five possible stops it was making, arrived at my hotel to find no one in line for check-in, dropped my stuff off in my room and changed, and walked out to the bus stop to wait all of two minutes for a bus to Hollywood Studios where I arrived at exactly 7:00 p.m. Cue the heavenly choir singing Zippity Doo-Da.

Not every transportation event worked out so perfectly, of course; I had my bad moments as well. Thanks to a Monorail hold-up, I missed the pin board at the Polynesian by all of five minutes (and they would not bring that fucker back out; they take those pin boards seriously). I waited almost 30 minutes for a bus home at the end of the night at Downtown Disney and ended up with standing room only. And at least 60% of the buses I was on had people who insisted on using power chairs to traverse the parks, meaning an extra five minutes of load time to get the damn scooter on and secured.

More to the point, even without magic pixie dust, things seemed to move a lot quicker by myself (this is not a complaint at all toward my fellow Disney travelers! If anything, I probably moved faster because I was not deep in an enjoyable conversation or pausing to notice something I would’ve completely missed had it not been pointed out to me). Nevertheless, I slotted eight hours for the Magic Kingdom on Friday; I was done in six. Eight hours were given for Animal Kingdom on Saturday; done in four. Five hours given for an evening in Epcot; my newfound travel companion, a ceramic Dia de los Muertos skull I bought at the Mexico pavilion and named Pablo Jean, and I were done and on our way to a new adventure within three hours.

Hola!

And I promise, I wasn’t even speed-walking! I was just… faster. I don’t know. I wasn’t even more efficient; if anything, my foot pattern around the parks resembled that of a very lost person. Or someone trying to lose a tail. My mileage count was as follows: Thursday — 4.81 miles (only three hours in the park), Friday — from noon until 9:45 p.m. it was 8.15 miles (I kind of had a snafu with the pedometer being on AM instead of PM, so it reset at noon. I have no idea what was done prior to that, but seeing as I left my hotel room at 8:00 a.m., I think it’s safe to assume at least 4.5 miles in addition), Saturday — 14.54 miles, and Sunday — 12.63 miles. Why so scattered? Well, why not? I didn’t have to worry about annoying anyone else or needing to explain my logic or whims, so I just walked… here, there, and everywhere.

Craziest thing? I was back to my hotel room no later than 10:00 each night. That is unheard of for me.

I will leave you with this, however: one important key to my timing success was that I did two things on this trip that I’d never done before (well, more than that, but for the sake of this chapter, we’re going with two): I actually listened to crowd calendars to help dictate which parks to visit on which days, and I arrived just a few minutes before the park was even open. I can’t tell you how much of a difference this made. I was walking on to rides over and over for the first hour of each day. No waiting, no nothing. In one hour at the Magic Kingdom, I’d walked onto Buzz Lightyear, Goofy’s Barnstormer, Winnie the Pooh, and Space Mountain and still had time to shop, pin trade, and eat a free sample of a candy apple for breakfast. That’s how it’s done, son.

The following day at Animal Kingdom? I went on Everest twice in a row with no wait. I could’ve gone again another couple of times, but I forced myself to branch out and move along. I know setting an alarm and getting up early can be a buzz kill on a vacation, but I think it’s less of a buzz kill than missing out on your favourite rides or waiting in line for them for over an hour.

Chapter Three: When in Doubt, Do It

Part of my worry going into this trip was that I’d be my own wet blanket. Why stand in line to do something with no one to keep me company and enjoy that something with me? I should move alone. Why do something silly or crazy with no one with me to cheer me on? I should behave. Why try something new or scary with no one to hold my hand? Let’s keep walking. It’s this mentality that explains why I’ve been to Chicago almost ten times in the past year and a half but never seen anything other than hotels, hospitals, and Chinatown (my one real outing).

One thing I was always keen on doing was to get giant chunks of glitter shellacked to my hair. Who wouldn’t want that?! I’d seen it for the first time several years ago on a woman and her daughter at the Magic Kingdom and knew right then I needed some cray cray in my hair as well. We asked a cast member later where to get it, and we were told it’s done at the Bippity Boppity Boutique. Once there, we asked for the glitter special, and… um, wait, that was it? It was nothing. It was fine, itty bitty glitter just lightly sprinkled in your hair while you make a wish. Lame. I wanted in your face GIANT SEQUIN-LEVEL GLITTER, and I wanted it IN A HELMET-LIKE FORM.

Finally, a mere month ago, I found out where it goes down: at the Barbershop, yo. Natch. Wait, there’s a Barbershop in the Magic Kingdom? Yes, yes there is. And it’s real too: you can go on in for a hot shave if you want. OR FOR HAIR BLING.

As I entered the park Friday morning, I finally found the Barbershop, tucked away in the far left corner of Main Street Square. Sadly, it had yet to open. So I went on my way toward Space Mountain and assumed my chance was over. That was, until I was leaving the park a few hours later. I’d forgotten all about it until I got to the Fire Station next to it. At this point, cast members were roping off the street for the 3:00 parade, and I was on the wrong side. What to do? Cross over real quick and then be trapped? Or say goodbye to my glitter dreams?

I asked a cast member how long it would be until parade passed and the ropes would come down again: 20 minutes. A 20 minute wait for cement-head? I don’t know… I decided to make a pit stop while I thought about it. And wouldn’t you know, in the time it took me to reapply sunscreen and fix my face in the ladies’ room, the parade had come and gone, and the ropes were coming down (no, it didn’t take me 20 minutes to reapply; I was simply given misinformation): it was a sign! And so I skipped across the street and entered the Barbershop.

$5 for glitter?!!? Fuck that noise. I turned around and walked out.

I got six feet outside the door when I stopped myself and asked, “What Would Justin Beiber Do? YOLO.” Actually, I thought nothing of the sort, but I did think, “fuck it, I’m at Disney World.” I turned around and marched right back in. “Glitter bomb me, please!” I demanded. “Do you want one pony or two?” the cast member asked. “Pardon? I just want to look like I’ve been to the world’s tackiest strip club,” I paraphrased. “Oh, just the glitter and hair spray? That’s free!” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up with the world’s shiniest head for one glorious afternoon, and the world’s shiniest pillow for one glorious night.

Similar stories could be told for how I ended up with a drink that came with a backscratcher, how I ended up in three parks in one day, how I ended up doing the Boardwalk loop twice, how I ended up at Be Our Guest for lunch, how I ended up actually eating really good cafeteria food once, and how I stole someone’s poncho.

Chapter 4: Why You Need People

Lest I be mistaken, solo Disneying isn’t for everyone. There are some situations, in particular, that having co-Disneyers would be pretty darn nice.

Eating alone isn’t always great. Twice I had to entrust strangers to look after my shit because I needed to get up to use the restroom or refill my drink. And lord knows, I don’t always have the best instincts when it comes to picking trustworthy people, so this whole “yay my vacation rocked!” blog could’ve very easily instead been “that time I was roofied and robbed of my wallet, sandwich, and pins at Disney World.”

Also, I love variety when dining. As in, I love being able to sample multiple dishes. This is hard to do on your own, unless you have unlimited funds and a bottomless stomach. I have something close to the latter, but nothing near the former, so I needed to place limits upon myself. Boo.

Probably most importantly, travel companions are often necessary when pinstalking. You see, there’s a limit on the number of pins you can trade with one person (or book or board). Normally I can elbow My Mother and says, “gee, don’t you REALLY want THAT ONE THERE???” and she can get me my desired pins after I’ve already taken two. But without her, I had to walk away from good pins. Quel Horreur.

Chapter 5: Some Good Old Fashioned Recommendations

1) The Tambu Lounge at the Polynesian

Pablo Jean and I found ourselves Epcotted out after a few hours on Saturday afternoon, so rather than do a second lap around the world, we decided to hop on the monorail over to the Polynesian to check out their pin board. As I mentioned earlier, we missed it by five minutes, so to drown our sorrows, I looked for the nearest bar*. Lo and behold: The Tambu Lounge.

With drinks on the menu that came in actual pineapples, I’d found just the place I was looking for. I quickly ordered something called a Backscratcher that came with an actual backscratcher. Admittedly, I mostly picked it because I like free toys with purchase, but I was pleasantly surprised that the drink was amazing as well! It was just the pick-me-up that PJ and I were needing.

*Actually, the first place I tried was the gift shop that denied me the pin board; I saw bottles of hooch behind the register and figured I could save money. Sadly, I was informed that even unopened bottles of liquor aren’t allowed on the monorail (much less the Magic Kingdom), so making my way back to my value resort later that night with it wouldn’t have been a possibility. Pablo Jean offered to hide it for me so we could sneak it in the park and then home, but I didn’t want to take the risk — of either being banned from the Magic Kingdom or having liquor forcibly removed from me.

2) The Gift Shop at the Allstar Sports Resort

Yeah, turns out they sell liquor there, too. Got my hooch afterall. And they bring their pin board out whenever you ask. White Trash Motels FTW!

3) The Belle Vue Room at the Boardwalk

I once again found myself way ahead of schedule, so to kill time between robbing every resort on the Boardwalk loop of their pins and my dinner reservation at Kouzzina Friday evening, I settled in for a drink. I’d actually never heard of this bar until a book I was reading a few weeks ago mentioned it. No, it wasn’t a travel guide — I read fictional novels that are set in Disney World as well. Me = cool person. The bar itself was nice mostly for the reason of being quiet and predominately empty. I was able to order a Bulliet Rye Manhattan, take it out to the veranda, and sit in a rocking chair overlooking the Boardwalk and Crescent Lake. Or I could’ve stayed inside, sat in an overstuffed arm chair, listened to radio programs from the 1940′s and chatted with the bartender who’s been working there since one week prior to my birth (so we learned when he carded me; I’d be flattered, but it probably had something to do with the overwhelming amount of glitter spray glued to my hair at the time).

4) The Crew’s Cup at the Yacht Club

I tried to get a drink here, but the bartender ignored me so long that I gave up and left. I guess I can’t really recommend their service. However, much like the Belle Vue, this place was quiet and non-crowded. And if anything, pretty well hidden. The first time I passed by it, it looked like the backdoor employees’ only entrance into a bar, so I kept on going. Nope, that’s the main entrance. It’s dark and cozy. It’s what I wish the Cava de Tequila would be like at Epcot — as opposed to its being dark and cozy but EXTREMELY LOUD AND CROWDED AND LACKING GOOD SEATING (<– that's me, shouting over the noise level).

5) Waffle Sandwiches at Sleepy Hollow Treats in the Magic Kingdom

This was part of my "JUST DO IT!" mentality that has nothing to do with Nike and everything to do with gorging myself on decadent foods on vacation. I was at the MK for the third day in a row and required breakfast for the first time (my lunch/dinner/main meal of the day reservation at Le Cellier wasn't until 2:30). What to do when the Main Street Bakery is still closed? Why, a giant waffle, folded into a taco shape, containing a cheese omelette, prosciutto, and fresh cut locally grown tomatoes, of course. It was sinfully delicious. I was tempted to come back after 11:00 when they started serving their lunch waffle sandwiches, but I knew Canada was waiting for me.

6) Le Cellier

Duh. It’s only one of the top reviewed restaurants in all of Walt Disney World. I needn’t go into too much detail, as it’s written up everywhere else. Instead, I’ll just mention these two highlights: a) Poutine. b) Menus that light up so that you can read them in the dark cellar-like room. That is all.

7) Be Our Guest

Loved it! Absolutely loved it! In another YOLO (but not, because I would never say that non-ironically) moment, I found myself standing in line for Be Our Guest’s lunch service. When I had last been there in February, we were told the line would be roughly 1.5 to two hours of waiting time. I figured if I showed up at 11:30, I could slip right on in. Wrong, but 25 minutes wasn’t bad either.

Someone to keep you company while waiting in line.

Between you and me, the hold up is their stupid touch screen self-service ordering stations. They’re slow, and the average guest using them is even slower. Basically, you wait in line to cross the bridge to Beast’s castle, then you’re ushered inside into a hallway. Once you reach the end of the hallway, you’re given what is supposed to look like a plastic rose, but more closely resembles a bright red ball after a dog has had its way with it. You then wait with your rose for the next touch screen ordering station to become available. And you wait… and you wait… and you watch with growing exasperation as yet another family in front of you says, “wait, press the back button — no, not that button! That one. Wait, oops. Oh, did you want fries with that? How do I add that? No! I didn’t mean that dish! How do I delete on this thing?? Why won’t my card swipe? Wait, do I just wave it around? Huh?”

After ten minutes and endless deep breathing exercises, you finally get your shot at it. And as a person who actually gets paid to show people how to use touch screen applications, you’re feeling pretty cocky until… wait… what do you do with this red plastic hockey puck thing? Fuck. Why is this thing so slow to respond? Do I need to press this harder?? WHAT DOES A GIRL HAVE TO DO JUST TO GET A LEMON MERINGUE CUPCAKE AROUND HERE?!!?

After that torturous process is over, it’s all smooth sailing. Because everyone’s tied up at the bottle neck that is the ordering process, there are empty seats everywhere — have your pick of eating in the ball room! Or the forbidden west wing! Or even the… the uh… um… I don’t know. Drawing Room? It was something green and boring. You pick your seat and hang out with your red plastic turd until magically, a waiter with this really pretty cart comes out of nowhere with your food order. I’d be pretty impressed by the swift and elegant service if I weren’t so weirded out by the table to table accuracy of those red plastic homing beacons.

And on top of all that, the food was actually amazing! I had read one review that the food was only so-so — it was really the atmosphere you were signing up for, but I’d have to disagree — I think both were stellar. I had the turkey sandwich on a fresh, warm baguette (I know bread, and this was good bread). I was able to order the sauteed green beans instead of the pomme frites so that I could also have my cupcake and feel slightly less guilty. All was delicious. (Don’t believe me? Ask the dishes!) The best part: lots of onions and garlic! I like a restaurant that doesn’t shy away from onions and garlic.

Chapter 6: Some Good Old Fashioned “Meh”

1) I hate to say it, but… Flower and Garden Festival? Kind of lame. Granted, I didn’t really partake in much of its offerings, but what I did see was a bit underwhelming. Basically, booths and tents are set up all along the World Showcase — some of these booths offering food (themed with that country), and some offering souvenirs or educational things. Most of the food I sampled was pretty good (though I cannot particularly recommend the tomato wine over in the Florida booth). But the souvenirs were the same in each tent. And the educational stuff seemed pretty dry.

In addition to the booths, several exhibits were set up, but as far as I could tell, walking through them was like walking through the nursery section of Home Depot, yet I wasn’t allowed to buy anything. Why bother? There were also the infamous Disney character topiaries displayed all throughout Epcot, but the magic of these was totally ruined for me when I learned that they’re the same topiaries that get brought out year after year.

Finally, there was a “Festival Center” where multiple exhibits and shows were being presented. I learned that if you sat through one of these shows, you’d get a free greenbag, so I checked the schedule and arrived in time for an herb gardening 101 class.

Turns out, a) this little class didn’t count toward getting a free bag, b) no real classes or shows were presented during weekends (WTF?), and c) the teacher/presenter of this little class was about as cut out for public speaking as I am for babysitting. Oh well. It got me out of the rain for 20 minutes.

2) Downtown Disney

I hate to say it, but I’m really getting turned off by DTD. Well, at least at night. The past three times in a row that I’ve been there at night, it’s been almost unbearable. Shopping just isn’t fun if you can’t even move in a store. Ditto extra for pinstalking. And even just trying to walk from one end to the other unscathed is like a Wipeout obstacle course through human bodies. Hopefully Disney’s plans for DTD expansion and improvement will help with traffic patterns. Though I vote for restricting access to park-pass-holders only.

Chapter 7: Protips from Me to You

1) Pay close attention to this tip, because it’s a damned good one: Become a Fast Pass whore. Here’s a little known fact about Fast Passes: even though it says “return between 11:00 and 12:00,” (for example), you don’t really have to return by 12:00. What a Fast Pass really means is, “just show up any time after 11:00 on this date.” What does that mean for you? That means that if you follow my above advice about getting to the park at rope drop (let’s say it’s at 9:00), you can walk to your first ride of choice, get a Fast Pass (which will tell you to return 9:40 – 10:40), walk onto the ride with no wait, (maybe even twice!), and save the Fast Pass for later when walking on with no wait is no longer possible.

The Fast Pass system is designed to avoid assholes like me, so once you have a Fast Pass, you’re electronically barred from getting another Fast Pass until your first one is ready to be used. But if you don’t use that first one, the Fast Pass machine doesn’t know that, and it’ll give you another! So after you’re done riding Everest over and over and over, stop for coffee somewhere, maybe look into a shop or pin stalk a cast member or two, by the time you get to the next ride that doles out Fast Passes, it’ll be 9:40, and you’ll be eligible to get another one. Pocket that for later and walk on in, because at 9:40, there still probably isn’t much of a line!

So the theory is this: take advantage of lack of crowds to simply walk on to rides whilst simultaneously pocketing and hoarding Fast Passes to more popular attractions to use later in the day once the crowds wake up and arrive. By 11:00 a.m. on Saturday, I had Fast Passes to Everest, Dinosaur, and the Safari in my greedy hands — all to be used once their lines filled up (even though two out of three of those FPs tried to tell me to show up prior to 11:00; to hell with them! I follow no one’s schedule but my own!).

2) Become a different kind of pin stalker. For whatever reason, there seemed to be more pin traders out and about at the Animal Kingdom on Saturday than I’d noticed in past years (or in past days in different parks). At first, this annoyed the crap out of me — who were these people to think they could come along in front of me and trade for the pins that I likely wanted???

But then I started to observe, and do you know what I discovered? Kids are stupid. They’re trading away gold for crap! And then I can come along behind them and trade crap for gold! It was like taking candy from a baby, except the baby was just handing it over!

I’d feel bad about taking such egregious advantage of the situation, but c’mon — what was I supposed to do? Jump up to the front of the line and say, “no, little girl! You don’t want to do that! Unhand the fake Tinkerbell pin!” I think everyone involved, from the cast member to the parent to the kid who’s deadset on that Tinkerbell pin would rather I keep my distance. And so I did… until it was my turn to trade, and then I get the super cool Mickey holograph pin that that family paid $13 for in a store. Idiots.

Conclusion

I can’t wait to go back — with or without travel companions!

And, because I know you’re at the edge of your seat wondering about this: yes, there will be lots of pictures of pins to come!!!!!!!!!! YOU’RE WELCOME!!!!!!!

As you may know if you’ve been reading this blog, I left a stressful, extremely pressurised, highly political job with a view to striking out of my own and/or working in a healthier, more honourable, less controversy filled environment.

Well,  a rather sobering realisation hit me today.

Politics, bitches and wankers are everywhere.

Naive little me wanted to get into teaching yoga because I thought I’d be mixing and working with more like minded, holistic, non judgemental, loving souls.

And guess what?

The yoga community is rife with politics.

I bet you, like me, thought it would be all one love, acceptance, passivity, cool in the kaftan, love and peace, man?

Well it ain’t.

Firstly there are all kinds of different yogas, all taught or founded by a variety of gurus/practitioners, and whilst some people may teach or practice a variety of styles, some are loyal to one particular yoga to the point of being evangelistic and naturally think it’s the best or even the only path.

Then there are the religious/spiritual beliefs that are part and parcel of some of these styles. Of course some people just do their yoga for exercise as they want an arse that doesn’t skim the floor, or to lose their bingo wings, and couldn’t give a shit about the spiritual side, but a lot of yogis take it much more seriously than that.   Some in fact, feel very deeply that they know the meaning of life, the universe and everyt’ing and offer this as part of their teaching.

Then there is the nutritional side of things, where what you are advised/allowed/expected to eat varies enormously.  Vegan, vegetarian, fruitarian, blah, blah, bleugh.  Sugar is evil, but you can use honey, unless you’re a vegan and then you’re not allowed because the bees get mugged for it.  Potatoes are bad for you but sweet potatoes are fine, but the odd bag of crisps don’t count.  ‘Nightshade vegetables’ are out if you’re macrobiotic, anything that used to have a face is out apart from the odd bacon sandwich or Sunday lunch (‘Because I don’t want to upset my mum’ – ha!) alcohol is poison but cannabis is fine every now and then because it’s an ‘erb, and so on and so forth.

I’m still learning at the moment, going to lots of different classes and trying to keep an open mind but from what I can tell, yoga is a bit like the Mafia.

Once you decide to join one family, the only way you leave is in a box.

One problem is that everyone thinks that their chosen path and style of teaching is the right one, and when yogis from one gang decide to try a different style of teaching to broaden their experience, they are sometimes told that everything that they have learned it wrong, and they need to pretty much cast aside their current practice and start from scratch.

As you can imagine that goes down like a shit and spam sandwich, and whilst both parties may maintain a calm exterior and a civilised manner during such exchanges, as soon as one goes out of the room, the other is muttering away furiously to his mat neighbour about arrogance, out of control egos, and someone being in danger of getting ‘whacked in the weeds’.

Then there are the ‘Tony S v Johnny Sack’ style Guru wars.

Conversation overheard at a Mind, Body and Spirit show I went to recently:

Yogi 1:

‘So do you know Guru1?’

Yogi 2:

‘I don’t, but my Guru, GuruTheOneAndOnly said that he knew him well and that Guru1 is a lovely guy, but to be careful when talking to him as he fell out with my Guru because they had a disagreement years ago.’

Yogi 1 (nervously looking around to see if anyone was listening):

‘That doesn’t sound like Guru1 at all, I’m sure you must be mistaken.  Guru1 doesn’t fall out with anyone.  He’s all about love.’

Yogi 2:

‘Oh.  Maybe I’m mistaken, but GuruTheOneAndOnly said it happened when….’

Yogi 1 (Icy):

‘I don’t think so.  GURU1 is full of love.  Full. Of. Love.  I’ll mention it to him, but I’ve never heard of your Guru, so he might not have either.  Anyway, must dash, have a meditation workshop to run.  Namaste!’

This isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed ‘I’m more enlightened than you’ fracas between high profile teachers, especially the males.  Believe me, just underneath the modulated tones, serene countenances and radiant smiles, it’s all OTT ego, willy waving and territory spraying.

It is however the first time I’ve heard ‘Namaste’ sound like ‘You Fuck!’….

Some other yogis can just as bad.  Whilst everyone is on their mats, it’s all peace, serenity, love and acceptance, but if someone stands out for being different, not conforming, or having their own opinions, the gang closes in, the pieces come out and the poor sods reputation is taken down like a cornered hit.

So.

Not that different to the average high pressure office environment.

That realisation nearly sent me into a panic attack; the thought that I’d moved from a well paid career to a badly paid one and seemingly I still had to work around cliques, bitchiness and arrogant arseholes was disheartening to say the least.

There was me, hoping to find a place where I can belong, a community of like minded people in an environment that I can call home.

That’s when it hit me.  I’m never going to find this sanctuary, this commune, this population of evolved, enlightened, totally accepting, loving beings, because it doesn’t exist.  Not on this planet anyway.

And even if it did?  I’d probably be chucked out for being angry, stubborn, suspicious, judgemental, and lets face it, down right bitchy sometimes .

Because to quote Rhona Cameron when she was on ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here’ (so I heard, I only watch Newsnight and Panorama myself….), ‘Sometimes we are all like that’.

Even me.

Each and everyone of us has a good and a negative side, because that’s what being human is all about.

This might seem totally obvious to you, and intellectually it was to me, but in practice I expected and probably still expect the people I am close to not to hurt me or let me down.  But we all mess up, say stuff, do things we regret every single day.  Some more than others of course.  And these yogis are in the minority and are small fry when compared with some of the total, utter twats, I’ve worked with, but let’s face it, I am no saint either.

So, that’s all very well, but what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I’m going to have to come back to  you on that one….

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never give up yoga, but I think I’ll stick with being an Associate and avoid being ‘made’ with any particular mob for the meantime.

But as a sole source of income?

Fuhgeddaboudit!

Life to me, seems like this flexible thing, ever-changing under the pressure of our dreams, hopes and sometimes under sheer will.

What it although is, a Sarcastic B**** with a dry wit. It doesn’t complain against our efforts of constantly changing its course, It awaits, almost silently, till the moment you have it all exactly how you once wished  it to be and then gloats watching you suffer and wishing for the things to be different again.