Making Better Choices: Just kidding! It just looks that way.

I have been trying to make better life decisions, so I started eating Greek yogurt. However, I stopped eating real fruits and vegetables. Whatever, there are bits of fruit at the bottom of each Chobani yogurt-thing. The situation is pretty much a solid diet of yogurt, Luna bars, cheese, meat, and pasta. My bowels are like, "seriously?" And in response, I say, "look, I drink enough coffee to make up for all the fiber I am not eating."

Fine, nutrition still needs to be tamed. Despite my poor food choices, I am still exercising! I might not go to the gym as much as I used to, but I am taking a Zumba class once a week with my friend Julian. I did not go this week though... Anyway, Julian and I are going to be Zumba masters one day. I cannot follow along with all the moves, but if I flap my arms and spin around when feeling lost I look Zumbatic enough. While humiliating 40-60% of the time, Zumba is a great deal of fun. Our instructor even plays songs that have the word "zumba" in it; just in case someone forgets why she is there (a lot of old ladies in this class, by the way).

My body is not the only thing getting into awesome shape. My brain is doing okay as well. Olivia and I have been throwing a lot of ratchet parties... Yes, it is true. She and I party almost every single weekend. Sometimes we party during the week. We will often party for hours... like seven. Seven hours of partying sometimes. "What kind of parties?" you ask.

Study Parties!!! Olivia, who is obviously French from the accurate picture above, is a terrific study party buddy. We like to sit across from each other and work. We also like to sit across from each other and eat lunch in between morning work and afternoon work. For extra fun, we like to go to the movies and watch films that you probably have never heard of before because these films do not believe in advertising. Seriously, why don't any of these producers believe in posters? Still, they are usually majorly super nice and magical. I know that if left to my own devices I would only watch romantic comedies and romantic comedies in 3D.

Sometimes we need more than great friends, exercise, study parties, and yogurt. I needed to take care of my "spiritual self". My spiritual self was just screaming for a serious make-over. Just kidding, I really did not know that I had a "spiritual self" until James and I made a pilgrimage seventy blocks south to Radio City where Oprah is kept. Yes, James and I consulted Oprah for some life advice and a self-esteem boost.

Seriously, I went to go see Oprah. She told me that I needed to feed my spiritual self and not just my hungry self. Oprah said a lot of things that day. I know she was speaking English, but I was pretty much lost for all 2.5 hours. Many of these things just ended up jumbling together--"transcendence", "energy", "karma", "meditation", something about the past and the future and how neither is now, "judgement", etc. Regardless of how little I learned about my spiritual self that day, there was one thing I did gain...

Oprah Friendship. Oprah and I are best friends now. She learned how cool I was and wanted to read my autobiography. I didn't have a copy on me that day, so she was all like, "yeah, no worries, maybe I can pick it up from you one day when we go shopping together and do girl stuff together, like facials and whatever. I will put your book on the book club reading list and you will become famous and I will scream your name like, Caaaattthhhhheeeeerrrrrinnnnnnnneeeee!" Yes, I am awesome... Eh, well, not really. Oprah and I are not really friends. I mean, in my heart she is my friend, but that is not a real place because two people cannot sit down inside my heart and have tea. These people would have to kill me first or something, but if I am one of the people then it really is impossible. So, yeah, Oprah is not really my friend. I did not get to hold her hand as depicted in the image above. No one is allowed to touch Oprah anyway. She is made of Phoenix feathers, angel nail clippings, and that warm feeling you get when you step into Saks--mortals cannot handle that kind of tactile experience.

Before I end this post, I have one more thing to share. Here is a fun game...

Guess!

Guess!

Guess!

I might be getting...

You invited to my Royal Weddin'

Many of us are very excited about the upcoming Royal Wedding between Prince William and the Catherine that is not me. Some of us might even wake up as early as 4am est this Friday to watch the thing. I know I will try to--my vision might be obstructed by tear-soaked tissues, but whatever, I am totally over him, like, totally, I don't care anymore, just watch me throw away all of the pictures of him that I had clipped from Time magazine (my parents only allowed me to subscribe to Time and Newsweek). While many have been anticipating this ceremony since the engagement was announced--some time after my brilliant idea for a taxidermy workshop--I have been waiting since I was fourteen. However, running completely counter to how I had envisioned this wedding so long ago, I am not the bride! What the fuck?! At the sweet, deranged age of fourteen, I really thought I was going to marry Prince William one day, or at least hook up with him, you know? I knew there were going to be obstacles because of the distance and the age difference... I was fourteen and he was, like, eighteen. I consulted my French/SAT tutor about my situation and he said that it was not impossible for me to date Prince William. With that glimmer of hope, I started planning my future with Prince William. I decided that I would have to meet him first so he could fall in love with me at first sight... Looking back... was he really going to fall in love with this?

No, this business took time to love. My love for Prince William blinded me of what I looked like...a dorky swamp monster that almost failed fifth grade because she made a pop-up book instead of writing an essay on John James Audubon. So, I continued on with my wedding plans. I decided I would have my parents take me to the UK for a family vacation. Once there, I was going to get all dressed up and get hit by Prince William's car--not badly hit, just enough to knock me unconscious. I logically reasoned that the fear of press coverage would force him to take me back to the castle, instead of a hospital. There, he would wait until I woke up to sign a confidentiality agreement. While waiting, he would fall in love with me. I figured, after waking up, he and I would have a meaningful conversation, a type of conversation that would make him think, "wow, she is really cool. I want to be her boyfriend and kiss her with my eyes closed and my hands on her waist like a slow dance."
Had he asked me to marry him for realz, I would have thrown a baller wedding. But hey, dreams can come true... which is why:

YOU INVITED TO MY ROYAL WEDDIN'!!!
My bridesmaids are: Jon Hamm, Anderson Cooper, and the guy from all those Mentalist posters. The wedding in my parents' backyard will be followed by a reception of bagel bites, Zing crunchy snacks, dosas, and cheese. Hope you can make it!
If you can't make it to my royal wedding, then please come to the taxidermy workshop on May 28 at 10am. Admission is $375.

Squirrels hate you

Over the past few weeks I have been co-organizing a taxidermy workshop that was intended to be held at the end of this month. Because of a minor financial shortage brought on to us by a church that wants to charge us $150 an hour for the use of its recreation room for skinning and stuffing... we are now without an affordable workshop (why a church? well the taxidermy workshop is full of bears right now because hunting season just started). In addition, it is hunting season, so our taxidermist is struggling with scheduling... ARGH MY LIFE! Somewhere in Jersey there is a freezer with nine dead frozen squirrels waiting for me.