More blogs, dieting, technology, OCD and rats: A day in the life

So, statistically it seems that the more posts I write, the more views I get. Weird, that. My blogging’s kinda fallen flat over the holidays, but one in a slew of resolutions I made up last week is to write more. Easy when I don’t have a job. A, so that my blog becomes somewhat interesting (the more posts, the more likely one of them will be interesting) and B, so that I can get ready for grad school (if I’m accepted, and spend the next few months till September weeping alternately in joy and despair). (Come to think of it, that’ll be the response no matter WHAT the outcome, so I may as well start stocking up on tissue now…)

Another resolution was to lose the 14 pounds I’ve gained since summer. So far, not going very well. Granted, I only resolved this last Tuesday, after eating an entire bucket of pulled pork poutine and having my stomach decide that was all I was allowed to eat for the day; but since last Tuesday I’ve lost 3 pounds and decided that Tuesdays will not only be comic days, but cheat days. This will entirely cause me to remember to update comics regularly, as I most likely stuff my face with as many carbs will fit at a time. Carbs = comics. And possibly coronaries, depending on which oil is used to fry them mercilessly.

A resolution I really should make is learning not to be afraid of technology. My beloved 7 year old phone died by beheading almost a year ago, and the phone I’ve had since (still a flip phone) has encountered more physical damage than any phone known to mankind, yet – and this is the strange part – I have not once dropped, hit, soaked, crushed, stepped on or even so much as dampened it. Yet despite my care of it, it is currently being shipped back to Nokia to have its USB charging port reinserted. Yes, that’s right – the charging port fell out. How does that even happen? Especially to a phone that still has its plastic screen protector still on it. Anyway, the point of this long paragraph is to explain that I am terrified of the loaner smartphone they’ve given me. QWERTY keyboards don’t work with just thumbs! My nails make an odd clicky sound that I hate and the screen is so big and what protects it when it doesn’t have a cover to flip down? A text from my brother derides me first for being a hipster, then when the truth is revealed, for just being too plain stupid to use this thingummybobber. My denture glue is enough technology for me.

One more final resolution that I just came up with now: stop being so damn OCD. I once read a book where a girl developed extreme OCD and then through sheer will power became OCD about losing her OCD. For example, she would dare herself NOT to touch the doorknob three times before leaving a room, and eventually, NOT touching doorknobs became her tendency. Unless she had to use them, I assume. I also forget which book this is, so I don’t remember how it ends, but if she ends up dying of bacterial infection after NOT washing her hands constantly, this resolution’s off.

(Bonus points to anyone who can spot the OCD tendency I ignored in this post… I’m off to a good start!)

P.S. Rat update… the stripey dominant son is named Buster, the spotty adventurous son is named Bowser, and the cinnamon blue hooded Papa used to be named Barney (but for some reason I kept calling him Bryan) so now his name is Babydaddy. Nice and simple and alliterative.

I am just posting like mad today

It’s like Twitter up in here.

I just wanted to point out my lovely new tag cloud, to the right on the sidebar there. My most common tags are buzzing around like little annoyingly compulsively categorising bees.

I love the word bees.

I also love the fact that in the tag cloud, it looks like I often tag “organic pants.” Amazing.


I don’t know why, but lately my OCD has been getting worse and worse. I count things a lot more, I eat with a lot more difficulty (because I’m counting and making sure my bites are an even number on both sides of my mouth), and I demand a lot more symmetry in general. But the main thing I’m noticing lately is my absolute need to avoid ending sentences with prepositions. (See “My Grammatical Quirks” at the top of the page to see what it is about which I’m writing… see?? Couldn’t end the sentence with “about” because “about” is a preposition!) Every time someone ends a sentence with a preposition, my brain automatically starts screaming the grammatically correct sentence over and over and I can’t avoid it. Same with who/whom; every time someone uses the wrong one, I mentally scream “WHOM! WHOOOM!!! With WHOM are you going, not Who are you going with!!”

Of course, I realise that saying these things out loud would mark me as a pedantic sociopath. So I keep it to myself and suffer gramatically induced mini-comas that quite often lead to me being snapped out of it by the offending party. So if I’m ever having a conversation with you, and start staring into the middle ground, you can be pretty sure that you’ve just ended a sentence with a preposition. It’s ok. A firm smack to the side of the head should get me going again.