Riot and Frolic

I'm Off Facebook

This title will confuse you, because you most likely got to this post by clicking a link... on Facebook. 

No, I didn't delete my account.  I didn't change my privacy settings.  I didn't even edit my friends list.  But I did take the app off my phone and I changed my Facebook landing page to my personal page, and not the news feed.

Here's the thing: I like you.  I met you somewhere and we get along and have things in common.  

But reading the "news feed" made me anxious.  And mad.  And sad.  And unlike you (not literally, because dang, finding that button is too much work).

I didn't like the complaining (#firstworldproblems, anyone?).  I didn't like the abused animal stories with graphic pictures.  I didn't like the political posts which made people who seem to like each other be mean to one another and strangers be really mean to one another.  I didn't like the horrible headlines about terrible people doing terrible things to children that I had to read otherwise my imagination would take over [it couldn't be as bad as the headline made it sound, right?] and it turned out my imagination was just as awful as what really happened.  

I didn't like 40% of what I scrolled through many MANY times per day.  

[It was literally 39% bad news based on my highly-scientific research that consisted of scrolling my feed a couple times and making a hash mark next to "Happy", "Funny", "Inspiring", or "Interesting" on the positive side or "Depressing", "Political", or "Ticks me off somehow" on the negative side.  FYI, 26% of posts were links.]

I really like reading your self-deprecating posts about anything, your posts about overcoming challenges of any kind, your posts about coffee and bad drivers, and your funny observations.  I totally want to hear about real sorrow that you or your loved ones are feeling and I will send you SO MUCH VIRTUAL LOVE.  I love seeing your vacation photos, your kids growing up, and your lunch.  And I'll miss that.  

Don't be afraid; I'm still posting to the ye olde FB.  I'm just avoiding the news feed.  You'll still get my hilarious, insightful, positive, and informative updates.  Oh, and a ton of this ridiculousness you're reading.

OUTRAGE!

Why aren't more people outraged at toilet paper companies?

This is the "bath tissue" aisle at a certain superstore:

This aisle of pretentiously-dubbed "bath tissue" (are they afraid to use the word "TOILET" [I'm not: toilet toilet toilet toilet toilet]) takes up about 650 square feet of store space and one company has a package with four rolls in it.  

ONE COMPANY!  

FOUR ROLLS!

Otherwise you are looking down the barrel of 12 rolls.

TWELVE ROLLS, PEOPLE.

MINIMUM.

Multiple companies offer many variations on "quilted", "cushiony", "thick", and "soft" two-ply rolls of goodness in 12 to 24 or more packages.  

To add insult to injury?  Those scrawny, old-house-storage-space-appropriate, single-occupancy-dwelling-sized 4-packs?  

SINGLE PLY.  

My family of 5-ish goes through four rolls a week.  That means, as the solitary resident of a home, you either dedicate the floor of a closet to toilet paper storage for a year or you are forced to endure single ply.

SINGLE PLY.

Let's boycott the toilet paper companies!

 

 

Wait.

No.  

Don't do that.

Maybe let's write them strongly worded letters?

Mirror, Mirror on the EVERYWHERE

Those mirrors.  They are all over those damn dance studios.  

Taunting you.  Telling you you're not the fairest in the land.

But that's just your brain talking.

Sometimes you need to ignore your brain and use your EYES. 

Your eyes will tell you mirrors are helpful.  It's almost like someone put them there for a reason.

Mirrors are on walls at dance studios so you can look at what you're doing and do it better.  

Let's say you're the average Joe and your teacher tells you to put your arm like *this* [teacher says *this* while showing you what it should look like]. 

You are like, "Yeah, yeah, got it, Teach [psssht, so easy]" and proceed to do exactly *this*. 

But then you happen upon your reflection in Those Damn Mirrors and your arm looks NOTHING like *this*.

DAMMIT.

The problem is, most of us have no idea what our bodies are doing.  

How many times have I told people to take a "side step", and then had them look at their feet to see it was not at all sideways?  ONE MILLION. 

How many times has your instructor told you to have your arm horizontal or above? How many pictures do you have of yourself with your arm below horizontal? ONE MILLION.  

How many times have you seen yourself in the mirror and realized you're not standing up straight? SOOOOO MANY.

Our proprioception sucks.

However, once you get to the point where you know what looks good and what doesn't (which is surprisingly early in your dance career), by looking in Those Damned Mirrors, you can make adjustments to make yourself more fabulous.  You can keep an eye on your partner to make sure you're matching when you're supposed to be matchy-matchy.  You can see when your shoulders start making out with your earlobes in promenade position.  You can see the line you thought felt kind of wonky looks pretty wonky, too.  

It's like watching your competition videos, except for free... and with less alcohol involved.

Stop listening to your brain.  Listen to your eyes.  Look in the mirror and get better.

Less Worse & More Better

There was this mysterious concept I heard of several years ago (probably in my last few years at college, in hindsight) called a "beer shower".  I could not fathom what this term referred to at the time, which is really a shame.

I now know that a beer shower is the action where, upon finding one's self hungover (or maybe in preparation for a big day of shenanigans), a person fetches a cold one from the fridge and precedes, with beverage, into the shower for the usual cleaning regimen, imbibing the refreshment periodically.  It is known as "hair of the dog" or "the preamble" depending on the situation.  

Often, I've "needed" to take my coffee into the shower with me.  I reeeeeeally enjoy relaxing with my cuppa in the "morning" (aka before anything requiring brain activity happens, which might be in what most people call the "afternoon").  My nearly-meditative enjoyment of my coffee usually runs into my oh-my-gosh-I-ran-5-miles-and-smell-terrible-and-am-about-to-go-in-public panic, leaving me with liquid still in my cup.  

To extend the reverie and make it even better, I take my coffee with me in the shower and set it on the ledge within arm's reach and out of the stream of water, similar to the above-mentioned beer shower.  I finish my coffee in the relative peace and quiet and solitude of the bathroom and proceed to be the little ray of sunshine you see now.

Need to make your morning less worse or more better?  Enjoy a beer or coffee shower and start your day off right!

In other words, cheers!

 

Grown Ass Women Advancement League - First Five

I was trying to think of something amazing to call these first set of badges, a name that would elude to 46 levels of GAWAL-y yet to come, but I exhausted my naming skills on the club name.  And those kids I have.  So, there it is.

RULES AND REGULATIONS TO EARN YOUR BADGES:

• descriptions or photographic evidence of badge-earning shenanigans must be posted to social media (Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter [if you're desperate]) 
• you must utilize the search facilitator popularly known as a "hashtag", specifically named #GAWAL, preferably along with the badge you are attempting to earn (ex. #happyhour) 
• if you're not "into" the social media "thing", you may email your documentation INCLUDING HASHTAGS (to spite your lack of social media) to [email protected]
• when referring to The Grown Ass Women Advancement League, you may abbreviate by saying "The League" or "GAWAL" (pronounced "GWWWWWAAAAAAALLLL" like an excited futbol announcer, not "gay-wall")
• any variations on the rules and regulations are subject to mockery

First Five Badges

 

Find the most ridiculous fitness class you can: Zumba, CrossFit, BootyBurn, PoleFitness, spinning, MMA, triathlon training, Barre, ballroom dancing... And do it.  With gusto. 

Brown butter? Roux? Mirepoix? Souffle?  Ah, hell, a great steak or piece of fish?  Make that intimidating dish and tell us about it.  

Go somewhere with a kid (a kid you have permission to take, of course).  Some would call this "babysitting", but Baby Wranglers should try The Supermarket or The Movie Theater or The Zoo.  Already have kids?  ADD ONE that is not your own.  Need kids?  I KNOW SOME YOU CAN BORROW.  Gold stars may be earned for quality kids' quotes included in reports.

Negroni, Manhattan, Old-Fashioned, Martini, Sidecar, mojito, margarita, daiquiri, mint julep, Long Island iced tea, good ol' Cosmo: the classic cocktail.  Make one.  Drink one.  Bonus points for wearing heels and a bad-ass dress while doing it.  Bonus more points for doing it before 5pm.

Extend an invitation to a friend.  Don't clean the house.  Don't plan a meal.  Don't go shopping.  Don't get out of your loungewear maybe.  Have a crappy-dinner date.  Or mediocre-lunch date.  Don't feel bad about it.  Relish the realistic time with your bud. 

GET EARNING