Monday Schmunday

Around 7:15 this morning, as I'm mindlessly slapping peanut butter on to a slice of bread and wondering where the hell the jelly is, Matt Lauer's gaggle of know-it-alls start talking about Blue Monday and how it's the most depressing day of the year - replete with divorce filings, shitty weather, and bad attitudes. To say I was shocked would probably classify as the understatement of the year (fortunately, the year just started, leaving plenty of time for much more galling understatements).

A whole day of shittiness??

As the gaggle droned on, I labored over every word. Okay, not really, I pretty much just listened as best I could over the wails of my sons mercilessly beating each other over which Lego guy was cooler. (For the record, the Ninjago guy with the gold sword came out on top.) Nevertheless, the takeaways from the Today Show bit was that 'Blue Monday' is the spawn of a compilation of dreadful things, such as the inherent hatred of Mondays, combined with debt (most likely stemming from the holidays or the complete failure of the American economic system, but whatever, we're not keeping score), poor weather, acceptance that your New Year's resolutions are inevitably going to fail, and a bunch of other crap that is equally depressing. 

This description of Blue Monday begs the question..."How the fuck is this any different from yesterday?"

Every major media outlet in the nation is reminding you of your neverending debt, the ceaseless barrage of winter weather, and how you seamlessly fucked up every New Year's Resolution you've ever had, all first thing on Monday morning - Blue friggin' Monday indeed. Thanks for the reminder! I pretty much had forward knowledge of what sucks in life without Matt Lauer and his team of whiz kids over at NBC rubbing it in my face. If I heard this news story yesterday, it would've been Blue Sunday. So what's with the headline?

Looks like it's about to get deep in here

According to our neuroscientist friend, Dean Burnett, over at The Guardian, "The "Blue Monday" phenomenon is based on the claim that there is an equation that takes into account numerous variables that negatively influence people's mood and calculates that the most depressing day of the year is the third Monday in January." Well, fuck, it's the first Monday - I'm calling bullshit! 

Not to be outdone by mathematical whatevers, the geniuses behind an energy drink company have trolled millions of tweets which, after serious analysis, shows today as the day full of the most depressing tweets. (No clue on what 'serious analysis' actually is). Furthermore, a web divorce service says its busiest day of the year for divorce filing is today. To be honest, I find this statistic the least bit surprising - you're lucky if you make it through the holidays in one piece, you should be proud of yourself if, after it all, your marriage is still in tact. Not only that, isn't everyone trying to shed some weight in the new year? No one ever asks what weight it is that they're trying to lose, a useless and ever-so-stinky husband perhaps, maybe your slutbag whore of a wife?

                                                                                    In the end - who cares?

Zero amounts of science have ever backed up this shitty claim. My debt will be the same tomorrow, if not more (thanks a lot interest rates). The weather is probably going to suck for a while (yay winter, hooray climate change). And I made it through most of the day without filing for divorce; that may change once I get home or maybe my husband already has, but I'm pretty sure we'll be fine. Ultimately - what the fuck ever Blue Monday. I'm more worried about Terrible Tuesday, when the Mouth returns to the office. I'm genuinely looking forward to hearing all her opinions about everything and everyone. Can't wait til Shut the Fuck up Friday!

Holy crap! She's gone vegan...

Yes, yes...it's true. I've gone vee to the gan.

This mystical transformation took place last weekend. When I ventured off to slumber on Saturday night I was wearing fuzzy pink pajama pants and a t-shirt; however, I awoke dreadlocked and covered in granola.

--I was confused--

Perhaps I was still dreaming - I must be lost in Wanderlust. I immediately began looking for a shirtless Justin Theroux to help me relax. But, as I started looking around, I wasn't in Wanderlust...I was in my house. I'm sure you can imagine my Theroux-less disappointment.

I managed to dust the granola off my shoulders and head downstairs. I plucked leaves of kale and spinach from a window garden (that, strangely, wasn't there yesterday, and somehow seemed to miraculously be flourishing even though it was 32 degrees outside). I stuffed the kale and spinach leaves with vegan holiness and devoured them there on the spot. Soon my belly was full of social elitism, decadently covered in hatred of the popular world around me. 

I was now ready to start my day. I slapped on my sandals, tossed a burlap sack over my shoulder, and headed to the farmer's market.

Okay, so maybe it didn't really happen like that. 

For realsies, I had not eaten meat for a while and thought I was good with where I was at. Eggs, dairy, grains, and veggies - while not for everyone, was more than adequate for me.The vegan thing was something I had kicked around in my head from time to time, but other than that, it was really just an afterthought.

If you've read my previous post, you would know that I'm an information whore. Through the grand will of my Amazon Prime membership, I can access countless documentaries that allow me to fill my head with facts that will subsequently grant me the ability to spout useless knowledge at random passersby, making me feel superior, while everyone in a 3 mile radius is destined to loathe my existence. Anyway, one of those documentaries was Vegucated, a sociological experiment that takes three meat loving New Yorkers on a 6-week quest to adopt a vegan lifestyle. 

The premise alone was enough to suck me in (there were words and thoughts, that's pretty much all it takes); however, in addition to 3 people changing their diets, the narrator, Marissa Miller Wolfson, also gave them a guided tour through the principles of veganosity (real word? maybe.)...the most paramount component being animal processing facility footage....bum BUM BAAAAH! 

I have learned a little in my 31 years, most recently that the mass production of food is reprehensible and once animals become involved it is absolutely deplorable - including my 'go-to' eggs and dairy. I always understood this, which is why I have made it a practice to purchase pastured beef, chicken, pork, eggs, and dairy - locally, when available. 

Suffice it to say, the few clips of footage shown was tough. Tough like sobbing as hardcore as the day Dave Kelly broke up with me in the seventh grade. (We were serious. I had doodled Courtney Kelly on at least four of my notebooks and named our imaginary kids. Those were the best 6 days of middle school.) That explanation should be enough to highlight the gravity of how this footage moved me. 

I came to the realization that, when it came to food, I wanted no part of the animal game. I mentally could not make exceptions for these practices through rationalizing how I procured my family's food. 

And that was it. Sunday came and I was vegan.

The point to this whole diatribe is this: vegan is not what you think it is. It isn't living in Wanderlust , rolling in granola with Justin Theroux. (Trust me, if it was, I would've made this move long ago.) I'll still make my family the things they want to eat (meat, eggs, and cheese included) to a healthful extent, of course.

And me? Well, I'm still the same loser I was before, but with spirulina and flax. I'm still gonna dump a bag of tortilla chips directly onto my belly and snack away while watching the premiere of the Real Housewives of New Jersey in June and not feel guilty at all. 

When it's all said and done...If Bill Clinton is going to herald the vegantry, I'll sign up for that monarchy. 

Who the hell am I fooling?

For, what is likely the hundredth time, I've set off on my venture to write this damn blog. Seriously, how many times have you perused through someone else's blahblitty blah blah and said to yourself, "Well I can fuckin' do that!" ? Yea, me too...incessantly.

I'm fairly certain that, everyday that I have sat down at this computer, I've thought, "Wow, maybe I should take some time to blog," then, without reservation, I shake my head and start googling who Kim Kardashian divorced this week. 

What the is the fucking deal with motivation?

Really...what is it? Everyone (myself included here) can ramble on endlessly about how hard they're gonna rock their next workout or follow along with some wack-a-doo diet plan that prevents cancer, obesity, and bad decisions. Oh, and my favorite, how they are totally gonna start devoting more time to charity and spend less time yelling at their children and secretly hating their families. Inevitably, countless hours are spent behind a screen, updating Facebook statuses and 'liking' motivational pictures that reassert one's new found fanaticism of greatness, re-tweeting Dalai Lama quotes, and 'pinning' a metaphorical to-do list that outlines the next 50 years.

By the time you're done, you're fucking beat. Good night! Only to wake up the next morning, clouded by your socially progressive hangover, scratching your head, and wondering what the hell happened. So you start scrolling through your status updates and realize that you just have to perpetuate your no good, lying existence through the use of more convoluted lies and bullshit.

The cycle never ends...
(it kinda reminds me of this Jenna Marbles take on dieting ) 

For some reason, we validate ourselves by others perceiving that we actually give a shit. 

Wouldn't it be nice, just for once, to not care what other people thought? Kinda like, "Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure buffet etiquette also includes taste-testing directly off the serving spoons," or "Yes, I do think that a lime green velour track suit is perfectly acceptable attire for the board meeting." 

We all eat food that falls on the floor and stick our fingers up our noses. Behind closed doors, we're pretty damn close to being the same person...give or take a few levels of crazy. Keeping up some ruse that we're motivated to do all these wonderful things after working all day, cleaning the house, helping with homework, driving to soccer, grocery shopping, making lunches, doing laundry, doing yard work, cooking meals, and not losing your mind whilst doing do, is fucking ridiculous.

Unfortunately, we'll all continue on our track to appear to be the best human being possible, all while trying not to look awkward while holding in a fart. 

Might wanna get that spoonful of sugar, just to help this all go down...

I guess, before we go any further in this blog relationship, I should tell you a little something about me. 

In short, I'm awesome. Really, just ask anyone that is required to agree via birth, blood lines,  marriage, and court order. Outside this realm, however, you'll most likely get a different response.

Unfortunately, I know everything...and if I don't I will bullshit with enough big words and convoluted theory to make you feel like you've been wrong about everything your entire life. But I will follow always it up with a compliment, so the whole thing will be a little bit easier to swallow.

Example:

My Brother: "I'm not adopted, let it go."

Me: "You're totally adopted. Do a genotype Punnet Square!"

My  Brother: "What the fuck is a Punnet Square?"

Me: "Are you serious? A Punnet Square is only the leading method biologists use to predict an offspring's genotype! Mendelian inheritance...it's basic genetics. Unfortunately for you, the dominant alleles of hair color aren't in your favor. Red hair is a recessive genetic mutation, occurring in 1% of the total population...sorry bro, time to find your real parents. Wow, those are pretty awesome shoes, are they new?

See what I did there? I have no clue what the hell I'm talking about, but I pulled some 7th grade life science on his ass. When your credibility as a know-it-all is on the line, you can't hold back in light of hurt feelings or mental breakdowns. (write that down). 

The reason I can argue with such ridiculousness is because I'm a perpetual student. I hate school, but I love to learn stuff. I've been a full time college student for what seems like eternity, chasing degrees in a wide variety of fields, just for the sake of doing so. Fortunately, I have my GI Bill to fuel my addiction. 

Seriously though, the titles of who I am are standard, I'm a mom (of 2 great little guys), a wife (to an old man!), a daughter (with the awesomest parents), a veteran (which I wear with pride), and generally tired (as in, I'd like to sleep more). 

My perpetual goal is to, each day, become a better mother than I was the day before. I love my two little boys dearly and want to be the best momma I can be. I do the absolute best I can by them, but I'm a work in progress.

As a disclaimer, I suffered a bit of a head injury just shy of a year ago, bits and pieces of my memory come and go, sometimes I use the wrong words because my noggin isn't making the connections, so if my rantings seems a bit off kilter, this is most likely to blame. Or I'm drunk.

As much of a disaster as it can be at times, I love my life...I'm looking forward to getting to know you (and myself) a little bit better as we move forward.