Becoming Something

Pantene will make you cry

I know it's just a commercial, just a story someone wrote but it made me cry.  Beautiful.  (Okay, the butterfly was a bit much.) Found at Schmutzie.com (great blog name) thanks to @earnestgirl.

Thinking outside the box, around the breakfast table

Josie: "Montana, would you eat my foot if it was covered in chocolate?"

Montana: "I would eat it if it was made of chocolate, not merely covered in chocolate."

Josie: "Would you rather eat my ear wax or five cups of sea salt?"

Montana: "I'd choose orange juice."

Brand new day

I don't really know how to explain what happened when I went to see the "voodoo doctor" who's not at all a doctor and who doesn't practice voodoo.  Mainly because I don't understand it and he barely explained it.  Something to do with frequencies.  Everyone and everything emits a frequency, whatever that is.  I believe that everything was created spiritually before it was created on earth.  Do spirits, even the spirits of THINGS emit a kind of frequency that can be picked up on?  I don't know enough about this to have an opinion either way.

All I know is that I went into this guy's office exhausted, tired (two different things), and hopeless.  I had spent some of the morning sobbing on the phone to my friend Pam because she phoned while I was trying to nap and said something that set me off.  

Mr. Voodoo had a machine that somehow, apparently, picked up my frequency.  He ran a bunch of cards across a part of the machine and the cards had things printed on them like Cancer, Jealousy, Asthma, etc.  I don't know what happened from there, if the machine read out a reading or if he was intuiting something....  Normally I would want to know how everything is done but we only had an hour and I kinda didn't care a lot and was skeptical anyway.

He started to rack up a pile of cards for me of things that are wrong with me:

• Bipolar Depression-- he said I was 75% suicidal, whatever that means.
• Hypothyroid
• Adrenal problem
• Arthritis of the neck
• Headache-- I don't get headaches much but then again, I've been told by chiropractors that I have a high tolerance for pain so I might not be feeling the headaches.  I do live with neck pain and back pain every day but I don't think about it.  I'm used to it.
• Iron deficiency
• Nerve damage
• Magnesium, potassium and sodium deficiency
• Chronic fatigue
• Sleeping disorder
• Problem with my pelvis and hips-- it's true.  One side is higher than the other.
• Pineal gland problem
• Memory problems
• Switched polarity-- no idea what this is.  Something about the electrical circuit in my body. ??
• Trouble controlling my mind
• Anger-- my friend Louise will like this one because when I was visiting her in Wales she told me I have anger issues. After giving it a few moments' thought I said that I don't get "angry" often.  I had a certain picture in my mind of what anger looks like.  She said it can show up in a lot of different ways.  She's totally right.
• Loss of a loved one-- I cried when he said this.  Was taken aback.  I have lost friends who meant a lot to me. 
• Fear

So, I don't understand how he came to all these issues.  Some he could have got from my form I filled out.  Some I never mentioned.  The iron deficiency was one he came to early on and I never mentioned anything about that.  Blood tests have shown that my iron and hemoglobin levels are so low, I'm two "points" away from being anemic.  Some things could have been reasonable guesses.  Most people have lost a loved one in some way or another.  Most people are angry at someone or about something.  Most people are afraid of something.

Then he had me lay on my back on a table and he set some weird mini radio tower-type things on either side of my head.  He said he would readjust me to the proper frequency and that I wouldn't feel anything except tired when it was done and that my depression would be all gone.  I was very skeptical.  I did not think my depression would ever go away.

If I'm just two kinds of crazy, who's the real me?

A friend who was a psychiatric nurse sent me a Facebook message today to check out this mental health illness called Cyclothymia. (I love that people feel they can send me mental health diagnoses via email.  No, really.  Isn't it a good sign that she knew I wouldn't be offended?)

I have often thought I'm bipolar but every time I hear something on CBC radio that makes the disorder sound fitting and I look up information in the DSM, I find that it doesn't really suit me.

Cyclothymia is kind of like a more diluted version of bipolarism with a low phase and a euphoric phase:

Dysthymic phase

Difficulty making decisions; problems concentrating; poor memory recall; guilt; self-criticism; low self-esteem; pessimism; self-destructive thinking; continuously feeling sad; apathy; hopelessness; helplessness; irritable, quick temper; lack motivation; social withdrawal; appetite change; lack of sexual desire; self-neglect; fatigue or insomnia

Euphoric phase

Unusually good mood or cheerfulness (euphoria); Extreme optimism; Inflated self-esteem; Poor judgment; Rapid speech; Racing thoughts; Aggressive or hostile behavior; Being inconsiderate of others; Agitation; Increased physical activity; Risky behavior; Spending sprees; Increased drive to perform or achieve goals; Increased sexual drive; Decreased need for sleep; Tendency to be easily distracted; Inability to concentrate

Blah.

BLAH.

So much of this matches.  Not all of it, thankfully, but enough.

So, now, if it's even possible, I'm even more depressed.  Because if I'm not entirely at fault for my low periods, if my low periods are not a true reflection of who I really am, what about the high periods?  Is that not me either?  Is it possible that the people who love me are in love with a freakin' psychiatric disorder?  Who am *I* in all this?

I would say that it leaves me feeling like I don't know who I am except that this IS who I am. This is all I know.  I don't know what it's like to be normal.  I never have been.

So, it leaves me wanting to give up.  My friend Pam tells me there WILL be a solution.  I don't believe it.  I really don't.  I think this is going to be something I'll have to put up with my whole life.  If there is a real solution, why haven't I found it yet?  What is the point, God, in all this suffering?  It only hurts people.  I see absolutely nothing good in it.  I'm already a compassionate person so I don't need to learn that lesson. 

Pam wants me to start taking EMPower Plus again.  It's a vitamin combination, developed by some Mormon guys in Alberta who each have horrible stories of mental health problems in their families.  It's's been researched and talked about a lot on CBC radio because many people (some I know personally) have reported being cured from all sorts of mental health illnesses just from this vitamin and herb combo.  Skeptical?  I don't blame you.  The thing is, it's supposed to be taken in heavy dosages.  Like, minimum 8 pills a day.  I'm probably supposed to be taking 15 pills a day.  And that's just for this one vitamin.  That doesn't include the cow adrenal pills I have to take or vitamin D or Omega oils or all sorts of pills I take for my health because my health sucks.

And I just have never been able to bring myself to keep up with that regimine.  I either don't want to take them or I forget.  Forgetting is very easy to do.  And taking one little pill that cost me $5 a month, instead of the $70 for one bottle of EMPower Plus, seemed like a more sensible idea because it worked.  It's just not working anymore.

So, I'm considering the idea of trying again, but asking for a support network of people to remind me to take them.  I've actually sort of asked before but I think no one took me seriously.  Pam said she'd phone me three times a day if I needed it.  But that's a lot for one person to take on.  I think if I had a number of people emailing, tweeting or phoning me to ask me to take my pills, I'd be more likely to take them because then I'd feel like I'm letting more than just myself down if I don't.  Plus, my brain doesn't remember so well.  I really do forget.  Especially the afternoon pills are easy to forget. 

Then, once I start feeling better, I'm less inclined to take my pills because it's not on my mind anymore and because it doesn't seem real that I ever needed them.  I forget what it's like to be really depressed. And that's when I'll need a support network the most-- when everything seems sunny.

I'm inclined to at least give this a try before trying a differnet SSRI because I am scared of the side effects.  I mean, sexual side effects?! Can there be anything worse?  Just kidding.  Mostly. 

It's 10:52 am right now.  It feels like 1am.  I'm exhausted, sleepy, near hopeless, my eyes are burning, and I have to get it together to go see voodoo "doctor" at 12, then I have to make a programme for a baptism, write a talk for it, get some food together, and make sure our clothes are all ready for Josie's baptism tonight at 6. UGH.

So, I kind of want to be in a coma... forever. Thoughts?

A week or whatever ago I started to write a blog post about how I'm starting to make peace with myself such that I'm not so badly plagued by perfectionism.  I started to write about how I've been working on Acceptance and Lower Expectations and finding so much inner peace from this and I was going to tie it in to The Four Agreements.

And I was happy.  Or so I thought.  When Depression comes it ALWAYS sneaks up on me.  ALWAYS.  ALWAYS.

Suddenly, on this day I was happy, on this day when I was dwelling upon positive things, peaceful things, I was hit with a panic attack.  I don't get panic attacks.  That I know of.  Suddenly, I felt like I would die if I had to live my life five more minutes. (WTF, right?)  That's the best way I can describe it.  And it makes me cry right now remembering.  I tried my best all day to shape up.  I look for any distraction I can find when I'm depressed, so I turned on the tv.  It was the first time I had watched tv in months.  I think the only thing I've watched since May was So You Think You Can Dance.  Anyway.  Oprah.  Oprah was talking about Michael Jackson, reminiscing about the interview she did with him eons ago.  I still remember watching that interview live and feeling badly for Michael Jackson.  But now?  I'm not really interested in Michael Jackson.  I didn't watch or read a thing about his funeral.  But here I was, hanging for dear life onto this stupid Oprah episode.  Then, The New Adventures of Old Christine came on and I watched that and laughed a couple of times.  "It's good to hear you laugh," said Jude.  The episode finished.  I went into the bathroom and cried.  And screamed silently.  I couldn't stop.  I COULD NOT STOP. 

I felt as though, if I have to live in this place-- this place that *I* chose, that *I* love-- for the rest of my life, that... well, I don't know.  The thought terrified me.  Still kind of does.  Not even of just living here but of living in one place forever.  The thought of being in these four walls everyday for one more week made me want to run away.  I felt as though I just can't do this stay-at-home mom thing any longer.  Nearly 10 years I've been at this and I'm ready for a change.

And the crazy thing is that this all just hit me like a car accident-- this panic thing.  I felt like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love.  Except actually leaving my family and living the life of a nomad is not a viable option for me, unlike with Gilbert.  AS IF I would leave four kids and screw them up for life.

The next day I woke up and felt better.  For a few days I felt mildly blah.  Then two days ago something happened to make me realise my health is NOT getting much better.  And I've been dealing with it quite well for two years but this was just devastating.  I'm not a crier.  Usually I can cry for ten minutes at the most even when I WANT to cry.  But that day and night I sobbed for hours.  Jude and I laid in bed in the dark while I cried and cried. And I've been crying off and on since.  I went to preschool and cried in the arms of the teacher for goodness sake.  (I had to volunteer.  If I was only dropping Lulu off, I would have been able to hold it together.)

On top of that, there's this huge struggle I'm having which I only talk about with a few people.

So.  I'm out of my mind depressed.  And you'd think that I'd be used to this or something.  That after being this dark and miserable at least 60 other times in my life, since childhood, that I'd not be panicking.  That I'd be telling myself that it will get better.  Instead, I'm blown away by how horrible I feel.  Instead I'm thinking, "This is AWFUL!  This is the worst feeling ever.  How can I ever be happy again?  I don't remember what it feels like to be happy."  And I just want to die.  I'm completely beside myself.  I can't focus long enough to DO anything.  I can't think straight.  So I try to cheer myself with music and comedy.  They usually work pretty well when I'm feeling a low-grade blahness.  Instead I laugh til I cry and I listen to music until a high-pitched scream starts to escape my throat.

Sexy, huh?

I wonder if Jude would have married me if he would have had a clear idea of what I would be like.  Who would want to put up with this?  But then again, he can see very little.  From the outside I look like I'm coping relatively well (except for the rare crying lags).  Sure, I'm snappy, sure I'm negative, but lots of women get that way.  What he doesn't know is that I am resisting tearing at my face.  You think I'm exaggerating.

What do I do?  Seriously, I'm asking.  If I'm asking for advice, I'm pretty desperate because really I logically know that if WE don't know what I should do, WE who KNOW me, we who actually know all the things that are hurting me right now (and you don't) what shot do you have at being helpful?  I don't care.  I'm desperate.

I actually came on here just to write some positive mantra-type things to repeat to myself.  I wasn't even going to write a blog post.  I was just going to write to me.  All those things I was telling myself weeks ago, after coming back from the UK, things that worked so well.  But I can't remember them because my brain is clouded with panic and pain and horror and now I feel like that lovely mindset I had, that lovely peace and aura is forever lost.  I don't think it will ever come back again without some drastic shake-up.

For the life of me I cannot imagine a life without Depression.  These people who are supposedly happy, or at least not crazy, all the time-- I look at these people like they're polar bears.  Interesting.  Beautiful.  But for the life of me I just can't relate and occasionally I confess to rolling my eyes at them the way the women on The View roll their eyes at "skinny b**ches".  (Although, I don't know why I'd roll my eyes at polar bears so maybe my analogy died there.)

I have one friend, one really spiritual and religious friend, who told me years ago that she never knew what Depression was like and she thought it was a personality flaw or a symptom of someone not cleaving to God enough.  Then she miscarried a baby at 20 weeks and was fine until she wasn't.  She said it was only a day or two but she felt such an oppressive hopelessness, such a darkness, that she'd never before experienced.  She thought she'd be in that place forever because she literally had no hope and it was the most awful feeling ever.  She came away with a new compassion for people with Depression.  And I think she realised that traumatic events could cause even the most spiritual to feel hopeless.  Traumatic events, you say?  I've got pockets full of them and lots of triggers.

HOWEVER someone falls into that deep hole-- whether by negative thinking, by hormonal imbalances, by catastrophic events-- the fact that anyone comes out of it alive and hopeful is practically a miracle.  And I didn't even bother to try to impress upon this friend that I've spent probably a third of my life in that hole.  Maybe more.  AND I'M STILL ALIVE.  And I still hope and plan.  YAY ME.  YAY GOD. 

I'm still surprised every time I find myself in this hole. 

So, to my friends and acquaintances, I want to say sorry and ask you to excuse me.  Every time I have to do this I'm just so angry with myself because it surprises me.  Because I never thought I'd have to say again that I'm super-de-duper depressed.  You know that I can be really gushy with love and really earnest and really happy and (I hope) occasionally delightful.  My friend John even called me a joy machine and I made a shirt in honour of the best compliment I've ever received.  But *I* know I have a split personality where I can be really negative and critical.  They are two real parts of me, neither are feigned, and while the Hyde might be obnoxious to you, she's excruciating to me.  I should keep to myself when I'm like this but I fear that I'll go more crazy all alone.

And in case you're wondering, "Geez, why does she talk about this stuff openly?  Isn't it humiliating?"  Pretty much, yes.  Depression can be humiliating.  Being an asshat is humiliating.

Again-- any comforting words?? 

Daily Gratitudes

1. I had enough yellow tomatoes from my garden to make this soup tonight.  It's tradition for Grey's Anatomy premiere.
2. I can lose myself in Grey's Anatomy, hopefully for two hours.
3. Katie is so, so forgiving.  It's her birthday today and I suck.
4. Jude was able to come home way early today.
5. I have an appointment tomorrow with a voodoo doctor who's done amazing diagnoses on people I know.  Like my one friend who's a nurse. She went to him and he told her she had cancer before the doctors could detect it.  He was right.  After two years, I've relented and I'm hopeful he can say something interesting.  Not like I have much else to go on.

The most botched LDS child's baptism ever

(Remember when I said my next post would be about the fourth agreement of The Four Agreements?  Well, I changed my mind.)

This post is about the most botched LDS child's baptism ever-- my daughter's.

Our daughter turned 8 in August and as is custom and doctrine in our religion, she was to be baptised.  But, I was in the UK for her birthday and the remainder of August.  As well, she wanted to invite her school teacher from last year and the school teacher's phone number is unlisted so we had to wait until school started.

We planned it for tomorrow.  It seems that most baptisms in our ward take place on Saturdays so it didn't even occur to me to have it on a week night-- a brilliant idea because I hate spending my Saturdays on religion.  Saturday is a special day, it's the day we get all our partying in that we can't do on Sunday. Obviously.

So.  I tell our Primary president-- Primary being the children's organisation where they sings songs and learn stuff and meet on Sunday for two hours-- that we'll be having Josie's baptism on Saturday at 4:00 and I ask if she can announce it in our Primary meeting on Sunday.  "Okay!" she chirps cheerfully.

So, they get to the announcements and first it's announced that Tyson's baptism is at 2:00.

GREAT.  No one, including the Primary president mentioned to me that there was already a baptism only two hours away from our intended baptism.

I thought it would be unlikely that in our small ward another child would be having his baptism on the same day.  We're supposed to have joint baptisms when children's birthdays are close together.  Now our local church leaders have to attend TWO baptisms.  On a SATURDAY.  The funnest day of the week.  And they don't get paid to attend because our church runs on volunteerism. 

Not only that, it would mean they would have to rush out of the church or at least be quiet while we were starting OUR baptism. 

I asked the counselor in the bishopric-- we'll call him "Brother Bailey"-- if he'd be okay coming to BOTH baptisms.  He's in his 60's, I think, and I don't think he's overly booked these days and also he's a bit of a family friend, so I thought he wouldn't mind.  He confirmed that he was fine to "hang out all day". 

Score.

But later my friend Pam phoned to ask if we could push the time back to 5.  There's a pianist playing in a nearby city and they are going to the matineé and won't make it back on time for 4:00 and they really want to come.  Rachel, our babysitter wouldn't think of missing Josie's baptism!

"Uh, sure. I guess 5 is okay."

I tell Nicole, Adria's best friend's mom, about the time change. "Oh! We're going to the evening concert.  That's cutting it close.... I guess we'll just leave immediately after....  And try to grab some food before 7."

SIGHHHHHH.  So, now our baptism is convenient for the Thompsons but not so much convenient for Nicole and her family. Oh well.  It will have to do.

So, today is Friday.  I realised that I hadn't phoned Brother Bailey yet to tell him that we've changed the time to 5:00.

Sister Pat Bailey answered the phone.  Gosh, she sounded young.  She sounded like Catherine Bailey. (These are fake names I'm using here.)

I told her that there's a time change, that Brother Bailey said he'd be at the baptism at 4 and it's actually at 5.  And is that a problem because I know he's going to Tyson's baptism at 2.

"There's a baptism at 2?  And he said he'd officiate?"

"Yes."

Murmurs of confusion and extreme politeness followed from Catherine because Brother Bailey was planning on being at the same concert everyone else is going to.  Brother Bailey walked in the house and she passed the phone to him.  HE didn't sound confused at all.  We talked about how this concert was in conflict with both baptisms and how it's too bad that no one in the Bishopric mentioned the schedule conflict. He told me that we're really supposed to have joint baptisms where possible and it would have been great if we could have had it in the morning.  I said I'd phone Tyson's parents on the off chance that we could change the baptisms.

Tyson's parents were not home.  So, I left a message saying I realise they probably have family coming but if it's at all possible that we can combine them, then could they let me know?

I phoned my friend JQ to see if she's going to be there representing the Primary organisation.  She said no, she was going to go as our neighbor, and Sister "Watley" was going for Primary.  I said that it's really becoming inconvenient and I wish we could change the time. She suggested a week night.  I realised that would be brilliant.  I decided to change it.  We didn't have many people to notify.

I let Jude know we're going to change it.  He confirmed that's better, far less stressful. Let's do it Friday night, the 25th.

Josie started to cry.  She wanted it to be tomorrow and she already invited her teachers.

CARRRP.  I forgot about that!  UGH.

Her grade two teacher said she couldn't come but her current teacher said she might be able to attend.

I checked the phone book. Number unlisted. Checked online.  Someone with her last name in her town was listed.  I figured chances were good they knew her.  I was correct.  I got her phone number and left a message, feeling mildly embarrassed that we JUST invited her TODAY and now we're having to change it. 

What a relief, however, that I was able to leave a message.  I'd be mortified if she drove in from a separate town for nothing.  And then what would we do?  Invite her AGAIN?  Ha.

Then Jude casually said, "I guess we have a cake to eat then."

ARGH!!!  I forgot that he brought a cake home while I was on the phone with someone.  I never saw it and we didn't get a chance to discuss it. 

He pulled the cake out.  It's big.  Enough to feed at least 30 people.  It has fruit on it, cream icing and says, "On your baptism".  And the blueberries were clearly frozen and had bled into the icing, which looked terrible and I'm totally going to complain about that, because... 

"How much did it cost? Was it a lot?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Well, I tipped her too so it was $50."

"FIFTY DOLLARS?!!  We just talked about our budget for the rest of the month!  You're supposed to talk to me about purchases first."

(Now, I must confess, I didn't okay my purchase today with him but I didn't spend $50 on a freakin' CAKE!  I spent it on nail polish.) 

(Haha.  That was a joke.  I don't use nail polish.)

"It's not a lot of money.  $50.  We've wasted far more money in the past."  And by "we" he COMPLETELY and POINTEDLY meant ME.

"Yes, but not on a CAKE."

"Well, I didn't want you to have to make a cake."

"WHEN DO I EVER MAKE CAKE?!  AS IF I was going to make a cake."

"We had to buy food and this would have taken care of the dessert."

"Yes, and it's lovely BUT, I was not going to be spending $50 on DESSERT.  We need some supper food."

And you know, had we not just talked about our new budget and saving money for traveling and such, and if were WERE actually having a baptism, I would not have been upset over a $50 cake and I would have thought he was very thoughtful and proactive and lovely and that it was a very nice surprise.  But those were not the circumstances.

"Had I known you had spent $50 on CAKE, I would have said to everyone, 'So sorry if you can't make it but we're having it Saturday at 5 because we have a cake that cost FIFTY dollars.  Yes, we're also having it for Josie but really we're having it FOR THE CAKE.'  Why didn't you say something to me before I started phoning people to cancel?"

And then we argued a bit from there.  I don't remember what all was said except for his comment later that he had said on TWITTER that he bought a cake and didn't I see that because don't I hang on his every tweet?  (I may be exaggerating his words.)  What, like I have nothing better to do but keep constantly on top of my Twitter feed?  Like I just sit there wondering if THIS is the moment that Jude typed out one of his two tweets of the day?

(I actually had seen his tweet in passing while I was on the phone but he conveniently left out the bit of information about how he spent the $50 I could have used toward my dye job or Botox or a new kidney.  Because, the thing is, I DO make cake.  For birthdays.  I have never, ever bought a cake.  Why buy a cake when I make such fantastic cake all by myself?)

So, I phoned Tyson's parents again.  I don't remember my exact wording but my casually spoken message went something like this:

"Hi, it's Natasha again.  We're postponing the baptism so don't worry about my earlier message.  However, we do have this lovely cake here that Jude bought that is fruit and cream. It's from a bakery, and it says 'On your baptism' on it.  It was also $50 and we have no use for it now.  Any chance you want to buy a cake?" I said, laughingly.

"No!  We wouldn't charge them!"  Jude yells, beside me, all annoyed-like, as though I had just invited someone over to dine on our leftover chicken wing bones while we all drink a case of beer each.  As I'm leaving a message on their voice mail.

"Okay! Apparently that was a terrible idea--"

"No!" Josie wails. "I don't want to give away my cake!" 

"Okay! I take it back. We don't have a cake to offer you.  That was a horrible idea I had, clearly."

I'm laughing a bit, Josie is crying, Jude is exasperated and I'm STILL ON THE PHONE.  BEING RECORDED.

"So, this definitely the most ridiculous sounding message I've ever left on someone's voice mail," I say, laughing. "Please ignore it. And good luck with your baptism."

Something like that.  That was my message.  EXCEPT IT WAS LONGER, and MORE PAINFUL.

So, then I realised I needed to phone Brother Bailey back.  I opened the church directory, found Bailey and dialed.  Got the voice mail.  And as I was looking at the name in the directory I realised it said CATHERINE and BOB Bailey.  Not Pat and Dutch Bailey, you know, the people I was talking with earlier?  Right?

Huh.

In fact, there's only one Bailey listed. 

Huh.

Is it possible...

Hmmm.

...that I was speaking to the wrong Bailey's?  Because that would explain why Sister Bailey sounded like CATHERINE Bailey.  Not Pat Bailey. 

SO, I phoned back and got the voice mail again.

"Hi, it's Natasha.  I seem to be uh... trying for a record of how many times I can embarrass myself in one night. ... I'm already at... three uh... incidents." [Had trouble thinking of the right word.] "I just realised that the entire time I was talking with you, I thought you were the OTHER Baileys.  I had no idea I was talking to THE STAKE PRESIDENT.  And I thought it sounded like you, Catherine.  And President Bailey, if you thought at all that I sounded like I was being kind of familiar" [except I'm pretty sure on the message I said FAMILIAL-- a word I totally know how to use properly but why be sensible like that, right?] "that's because I thought you were DUTCH Bailey and he's a bit of a family friend.  So, his number is not listed!  And I was wondering if you had it so I could phone HIM.  And this would explain our confusion over the phone, Catherine.  Heh heh heh.  Alright. Thanks. Bye."

ARGHHHHH!

Idiot!

All that said, however, let it be known that this giant, $50 cake that Jude has started slicing open, this cake that's going to be in my fridge for days, HAS NOT TOUCHED MY LIPS.  Nor will it. I was very tempted to say 'screw it' to my vow against refined sugar because, you know, the cake was FIFTY dollars and because I was stressed out and deserved to celebrate Josie's almost-baptism, right?  But my integrity and my pact with Louise means more to me.  While I may be lacking brain cells, at least I have self-control-- and that part is ALL my own doing.  YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

[I had said after writing this that I didn't have time for Daily Gratitudes and that I was going to see Julie & Julia.  It wasn't there anymore and we saw The Time Traveller's Wife.  Which was OKAY.  But, in editing, I added some D. G.'s.]

Daily Gratitudes

1. Again, I'm so grateful for our babysitter.  And soon, she will be able to drive so I maybe don't have to pick her up and drop her off all the time when it's midnight and I'm tired.  Last night Jude said, "if Rachel was able to drive I'd just say 'Here are the keys to the car.  Why don't you just take it we'll pick it up tomorrow.'"
2. Lulu and I had a very nice time together today.
3. I have basic sewing skills and a sewing machine.
4. It was a beautiful day.
5. My friends.

Secular philosophies that have changed my life

Years ago I read The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and it changed my life.  After I skipped through all the weird Toltec stuff, I found this:

1. Be Impeccable With Your Word - Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

2. Don't Take Anything Personally - Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

3. Don't Make Assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

4. Always Do Your Best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.

(Copied from Gina's blog, Me & Mine)

1. The word thing.

I'm not super great at this. I speak against myself all the time BUT... I guess I do it with an understanding that I'm good enough despite the faults I harp on.  I don't gossip a lot. 

One thing I committed myself to and have done well by is saying what I mean.  I don't tell people just what they want to hear when they ask for my opinion but I do try to be gentle.  I don't flatter people and I try not to be ambiguous.  I ALWAYS MEAN MY COMPLIMENTS, am generous with them, and I think people who know me believe me when I say something nice because they know I'm honest.  If I love you, I make it really clear.  If there's something I'd like from you, if there's a need I have, I come right out and ask for it directly.  If I'm upset with someone, I tell them.  I like straightforwardness, honesty, integrity of word.  Always room for improvement but I've definitely made huge strides here.

2. Don't take anything personally.

While I don't agree that NOTHING anyone does is because of me, I believe this to be largely the case.  So  much of what people say to me is opinion and perception and whether I think they're right or wrong depends upon my own opinion and perception.  I get to choose what I believe.  

People who get offended all the time by someone's sentiments are offended because they are insecure about that sentiment and believe it harbours some truth.

It's funny how some people would be extremely hurt if someone said they were ugly and extremely pleased if another person said they were beautiful.  Two opinions on the opposite spectrum:  Who is right?  Neither.  They're only opinions. 

I'm rarely offended by the opinions of others.  I am sometimes offended by the motivation behind the opinion.  For example, if a close friend, or Jude, told me I was ugly, I would not be bothered by the opinion (because I don't agree with it, so I'd slough it off) but I would be offended that they clearly wanted to hurt me.  (More likely, I'd think they were having a really bad day because my friends and Jude aren't the type of people to do that, but you get my drift.)

If a stranger had the same motivation, I wouldn't care much if at all because my happiness is in no way dependent upon a healthy relationship with a stranger.

3. Assumptions!

You know those people who interpret everything that's said in the worst possible way?  I HATE THAT SO MUCH. 

I used to have this friend who was super passive-aggressive.  Though she was my best friend, she struggled to compliment me or be happy for my successes/blessings. When she did muster up the strength, it came off disingenuous.  Particularly because I knew her philosophy was that telling little white lies to people to make them happy was a good thing.  She didn't have enough confidence in herself that she could be honest with people and still keep their friendship.  She needed many friendships and to be the favourite of the local missionaries to our church, in order to feel good about herself.

(She even set up this thing in her church ward where men would come to her and ask for her help in planning a romantic day/gesture for their wives. She would decide and orchestrate everything, make a BIG to-do, and the husbands would take credit for it with the wives thinking their husbands were people they were not.  Certainly, these wives would come to expect further such romance from their husbands and most likely they'd be let down because it wasn't who their husbands really were.  Their husbands were lying.  My friend was extremely offended when I completely disagreed with this plan of hers.)

Just some interesting background information.

This woman struggled with saying what she meant and meaning what she said.  She'd push the truth by saying something that could be taken two different ways.  I suspect she thought that if she meant it the hurtful way but I took it the positive way, then no lying was done.  I would often assume she meant something hurtful because I knew how she talked about other people.  Why would I assume I was any different just because I was her best friend?

When faced with similar situations now, I try to always assume the best.  But I am glad that this woman is no longer in my life because having to decide to not take offense, having to assume the best, being asked to explain/justify my decisions, is EXHAUSTING. 

Still, the point is that if I had to handle her now, I'd assume the best of all her passive-aggressive and ambiguous statements.  It's my life policy now.  I think I'm great so I assume that you do, too.  It doesn't really matter if you don't, so why not assume that you do?

Generally, though, if there's something you've said that I don't understand, I'll ask you what you meant.  My friends can attest to this.

As for #4, always doing my best, that will be my next post.

The Four Agreements.  Easy read, short, life changing.  Even my 9-yar-old has read it. 

Daily Gratitudes

1. Pam, for coming to boost my van this morning.
2. Employment.
3. Universal health care.
4. My home and new fence and gate.
5. The people who take care of the people I love.

A day to test my Christianity

A day to test my Christianity. 

Had a horrible night's sleep.  On the plus side, I saved a family from hypothermia in my dream, which was pretty cool.  Although they were ungrateful.  People these days!

Though Jude made me a breakfast egg for a salsa'd, chedder'd, egg McMuffin-style sandwich, he didn't remind me to take my adrenal pills.  So, one more mark under the Divorce column of the Marriage Or Not Chart, I say.  Oh, wait.  That's a break-even, I guess.

Well, still.  I could have used some adrenal pep in my system today.  Might have warded off some of the tears when Lulu violently unplugged my Jude's iPod from the iMac, ERASING ALL THE SONGS.  I only have the songs I've purchased through iTunes, not the ones I took from John's laptop when I was in Wales and not the songs that the children sang to Jude for a present two years ago-- songs I wrote, tailored to him.  (I think they are on the laptop but I don't have it in me to check right now, in case I'm wrong.)

So, my favourite song right now, 4am by Cherry Ghost, was erased irretrievably.  And iTunes Canada only has the instrumental version (which is lovely).  In fact, they only have two Cherry Ghost songs at all, which is just absurd.  I hate that I can't buy every song on iTunes that exists in other countries.

I tried to buy the song from some sites recommended to me by Cherry Ghost's website.  Not available to Canadians.  I tried to buy the song from Amazon but the page just didn't want to load.  It wouldn't let me buy it.  I ended up buying the whole CD for $27.  FOR A CD!  I hope there's some free blood plasma with that or something equally useful.  You never know, the way my day is shaping up....

I tried to phone Bell Expressvu again to demand that they turn my tv back on because it's only turned off because I haven't paid the charge they are supposed to have reversed since receiving some broken merchandise from me.  But I was on hold for so long that I had to hang up because Lulu needed picking up from preschool.

And while I'd been trying hard to shrug off the gloom, frustration, and mild depression looming about me since the music mishap, I just couldn't. 

I tried yelling as loud as I could-- no profanities, even!-- on the drive to the preschool but my throat was dry and I could only manage a 1.7 second yell before I choked each time I tried, which just made me more mad.

And because I didn't know that Daisy would come home to tell me that one girl has been hitting her "hard" on the bus, and two other girls too, and because I didn't know that my second attempt to phone Bell Expressvu would be interrupted by a phone call saying that Josie missed her bus because she was playing on the playground with Megan...

...I was only delighted and relieved when Lulu leaped into my arms with a squeal at exactly 2:47 pm.

I was adoring when she squeaked, "I hope the grocery store has a little cart for me!"

I was proud as she pushed her little cart around and forgiving when she slammed it into my left heel.

I was smitten as she unloaded the cart onto the checkout belt all by herself, managing even the heavy bag of carrots. 

Every time people gush over her sunny blond halo of curls ("She has such an angelic face and then with cherubic blond curls to go with it!") I am reminded that the sunshine of my day will soon enough be at school full time, everyday. 

Who's going to save me from bitterness then?

Daily Gratitudes

1. My stern wrath with Bell Expressvu finally paid off.  They're reversing the bogus $509 charge and they turned my tv back on. (Third time they've turned it off unjustifiably.)
2. Jude came home early and was high-spirited and lovely despite having finished a rape trial today.  Even started to cry just because he loves me so much.  I think we need to check his estrogen levels. Kidding. He's teeming with testosterone.
3. Montana is at his friend Laura's all day.  Nice for him to get invited out.
4. Daisy is not so delicate as to have been really upset over the hitting.  I think she also feels empowered that we told her if the hitting doesn't stop, she can punch this older girl in the face.  Because the latest research in bullying shows that kids who don't stick up for themselves get targeted for more bullying and each time they cushion the abuse, they send the message that they'll take more bullying. So, it was recommended (on Oprah, no less) that kids stand up for themselves, generally speaking. Daisy is a runt and this girl is two years older and she's been told to stop by Daisy and the bus driver.  Stupid Piper.
5. I have this fabulous shirt I bought in Wales that makes me feel pretty and hides my belly rolls when I sit down. (It's prettier in person.)
   
   

Video: Jude and I have a rose-petal-sniffing-anti-gravity contest

Trying to hold a rose petal to our faces by sucking in air, not by balancing.  I was really good at this earlier and was sure I'd be better than Jude because I think he needs to work on his cardiovascular capacity.  But I couldn't get my "technique".  Until the end of the video.  But then Jude was not playing along, too busy writing a blog comment for my blog, which he didn't end up posting because I told him all the ways I'd razz him after, publicly, like on how he doesn't put any spaces after his punctuation.  Drives me crazy.

Daily Gratitudes

1. I was released from my Primary teacher Sunday school calling thingie at church.  I taught 7-year-olds.  I don't much like teaching.  I hate object lessons so I put no effort into doing any for the kids.  BUT, to my credit, I was told by one of the moms that her child talks about me all the time and just loves me.  So, I can't be doing TOO bad of a job.  But anyway, I'm done!  And yes, it's not fair to all the people who've been there forever.  I don't know what calling they have in mind for me yet but maybe I just got released because I'm so weak and so much less capable of serving in Primary.  Which is fine by me.  (And no, I did not once ask or drop hints to be released.) Funny thing:  I dreamed last night that the bishop released me.  Eerie.
2. Jude and I saw (500) Days of Summer last night.  It was excellent.  Loved the Expectations vs. Reality split screen.  Loved the soundtrack (which I've owned for a while-- has my favourite Smiths song on it and fave Pixies song, in a cute remake).  Loved how they made it so easy to fall in love with Summer, along with Tom's, the lead character, and loved how our emotions for the story and the movie were meant to mirror Tom's.
3. There's a new bathing suit store open at our mall. Year-round.  Fabulous because it's usually impossible to buy a bathing suit in the fall or winter.  So, I went in and tried on a bathing suit and while in the movie above my gut looks like it leaves something to be desired, it was actually my thighs that made me sigh in dismay.  My belly looked fine.  SO!  I am grateful for newfound motivation because I do not want to be surrounded by beautiful, tanned Spaniards in January in my current state.
4. Jude pulled over on the highway yesterday so I could take a photo of a sign.  He just knew that I wanted the photo and that I was getting ready for it and he doesn't usually like to pull over for stuff, certainly not on the highway at night.  It was a simple thing but made me fall in love with him some more.
5. I love our babysitter!!
   

Story contest winner: Katie!

In case you missed it, I held a fun contest where people had to write a story using some of my favourite words.  I'll post the stories later on in this post.

I used an online tool to randomly choose the winner. I was going to take a video of me doing it to prove that I didn't scam the contest but holy tedious. Instead, I just took photos of the screen.  If you don't trust me, then why are you here? ;-)

 

(I had the names in the wrong spot here.)

 

People who used Natashaisms got double entries.  Natashaisms: carp, snortlaugh, holy cannoli.   Still, Katie won! (It took her name out of the top and put it on the bottom after I clicked "Pick Random Line".)

She won four Dripstiks. Thank you, Mecinna for donating the free Dripstiks! Brilliant invention.

So, Katie, when you get back from Wheatland, send me your address again.  I... lost it.

Here are the stories.  (I didn't include Jude in the contest, though he wrote a stellar story and was the only one to use "pants" properly. *wink* He also worked "something" "guy" and "girl" into one sentence on purpose-- them being our Twitter handles: @SomethingGuy & @SomethingGirl. He's so sexy.)

There are no naked breasts in the True Church of God.

I'm not usually so presumptuous as to think people want to hear the dreams I dream. But since when do I care what other people want?

Last night I dreamed that my left index finger was a bit sore. It wasn't swollen at all, just had a tiny water blister.  I squeezed the water blister open with my thumb and index finger of my right hand and to my astonishment, a second later, a little khaki green caterpiller-type worm came out.  I was too surprised to be overly horrified, until another one came out and then another.  They weren't spiders or maggots or anything too disgusting, though.  If I had seen them on a leaf of garden lettuce, I'd have been nonplussed.  So, I made a conscious decision to not react as if I was on a drug trip.  My finger was just a finger, not ME.  I could separate myself from my finger, psychologically speaking.  Then a fourth and a fifth came out and I said to Jude, "Okay, my finger wasn't even swollen so this can't go on forever. I'll just let them come out, then chop my finger off and we'll be fine.  Kidding. No, I'll just stick it in vinegar or hydrogen peroxide or Diet Coke or something."  Then water started shooting out of my finger and then bubbly pus.  A huge puddle was made on the floor-- huge considering the size of my finger-- and when all was done I had three holes in my finger and I had remained calm enough to be awarded an award for calmness, if such a thing existed.

Then I woke up and my finger hurt.  Except that it didn't really hurt.  There's nothing wrong with my finger.  This wasn't a case of dreaming that I had to pee and then waking up because I really had to pee.  Or dreaming that Jude Law is stalking me and then waking up to find out that I'm super awesome and totally stalk-worthy.  My finger is fine.  It doesn't hurt, there's no mark on it on the spot where the baby caterpillars were exiting.  But when I woke up, I could still feel the physical pain.

I take my dreaming seriously.

And I woke up on my back which always freaks me out because if you sleep-deprived me for four days I still would not be able to fall asleep on my back.  Maybe I always wake up when I'm on my back because subconsciously I think someone's going to stab me, as if I'd be totally protected on my stomach.  It's such a prone position.  I guess if you're going to stab me to death, I'd rather not know about it in advance.  I typically sleep half on my stomach with one leg straight and the other jutted out.  Like you needed to know that.

Oh! That reminds me.  I wanted to ask you guys about this, see if anyone else experiences this quirk.  Okay, so when I go to bed, I HAVE to lay on my right side, facing away from Jude.  (I sleep on the left side of the bed, unless it's hot and then I sleep nearest the window because I'm selfish.)  And I have to lay in a fetal position.  But I usually don't fall asleep until I turn to lay on my left side, and then I sleep as I mentioned earlier.  But I can't start out on my left side or I won't fall asleep.   And if, in the night, I flip over to one side but then say, Lulu wakes me up and I have to go to her, when I come back to bed, I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT retire to the same position I was in before Lulu woke me up.  I HAVE to flip on to the other side of my body.  No matter how brief I was on one side, I can't lay on the same side again.  Then, if Lulu cries again and I've only been in bed for 30 seconds and I have to get up again, when I come back to bed the second time, I can't lay on the same side I was on before I got up.  Are you following this?  So, every single time I get out of bed, no matter how briefly I was IN bed, I have to alternate from the side I was on before I got up.  It's not some OCD thing.  It's just how my BODY wants to go.  I can't control it.  If I try to lay on the same side I was on before I got up, it's like an itch, this wanting to roll over. 

Is there any human out there who relates to this or am I just a freak?  I mean, IN THIS REGARD.  I already know I'm a freak.

Okay, so anyway, I went back to sleep and had a dream that I was visiting my friend Katie in Kalamazoo, Michigan and she was giving some sermon to her congregation-- which was weird-- and then she took her shirt off!  And this was normal.  I was looking around and all these people were acting like she was totally normal.  Then she morphed into my friend Sara except her breasts were all small and droopy and um, well, Sara and Katie both have racks, let me tell you. 

I think this dream was an expression of how envious I am of Katie's rack.  She has the kind of breasts that you'd glance at and then just roll your eyes at the injustice of the world.

Then! Katie didn't want to get together with me before I had to go back home.  She said she was BUSY.  I flew all that way just to see her give some weird new-agey sermon with naked boobs?  And my daughters had to use the bathroom and the stall just had some sink-like hole in the floor and I had to hold them as if they were just peeing on the side of the highway and I realised that Katie probably gave her sermon topless so they could attract more people so they could get more money so they could get some decent bathrooms not reminiscent of China.

And that's what happens when your church is not the True Church of God, people.  Pay your tithing.

Daily Gratitudes

1. It's a stunningly beautiful day today. Not a cloud. Perfect temperature. Nice breeze. I'm in a fantastic mood.
2. I may have dog hair everywhere, there may be clutter about, my bathroom sink may need cleaning but dammit, my spice rack is REALLY, REALLY clean.
3. Good music.
4. Jude made lunch. But that's typical for the weekend.
5. Jude and I are going to see (500) Days of Summer tonight. Yay!

Um, did that guy just call me fat?

I've been getting a lot of hits from this er, surprising and slightly odd website called LDS Skinny Dippers: For Latter-day Saints who are interested in chaste, wholesome, recreational... nudity. (I know, right?)  It's a forum and someone linked to my recent post where I let two of my daughters colour on my naked back with Crayola washable markers.  I guess they thought this was really cool.

So, since I was getting more hits from this forum, I decided to check back and see what was being said.

You can imagine my delight to find this:

"So it was a happy surprise to come here and see this great sister, with the invention to give the markers to her kids and the confidence to put her own, bare, normal, non-anorexic and non-Photoshopped back on her blog and to tell the world about it. Awesome."

What makes this guy so sure that it's not Photoshopped? Because I'm so full of flaws? You know the marker dots are not pimples or anything, right?  I mean, I know I need to lose about 15 lbs but to call me "non-anorexic"?  Geez.  And all I wanted to be in life was anorexic.... *sniff*

I felt comfortable putting that photo up because, 1. I did crop out my most obvious lump of fat, and 2. I know that I have til my 30th birthday to get super fit and hot and you best be sure that I'll be posting photos up of THAT accomplishment, baby!

Just kind of funny.  Actually, very funny.  I threw my head back and laughed. Because, obviously, "normal, non-anorexic, non-Photoshopped" could be euphemisms for "plain, chubby, kinda ugly".  "Needs work." Hee hee!

More ways to be goofy

Remember how I was looking for more ways to have fun and be silly as a general life philosophy?

My aunt Patty just sent me this list and I thought it was cute.  I think I've received it before as an email forward. There's nothing original in email forwards anymore. I took out the REALLY stupid ones and then didn't change the number order.  Also, I'm not changing the horrible random capitalisation and such.  I have napping to do in the time it could take me to further cultivate my perfectionism.  (I'm really making great changes in this arena! Will write about it soon. Maybe later today.)

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a

 Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.

 2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice!

 3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, ask If They Want Fries
 with that.

 4. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks . Once Everyone has Gotten
 Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso.

 5. In the Memo Field Of All Your Cheques, Write "For Marijuana".-----> MY FAVOURITE!

 7. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.

 8. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is 'To Go'..

 12. When Leaving the Zoo, Start Running towards the Parking lot, Yelling
 'Run For Your Lives! They're Loose!'

Daily Gratitudes

1. Louise really, really liked her birthday thing and I got to actually talk to her about it pseudo face to face today.
2. Pethidine.
3. Izzy does not have a hip problem.  She just has a skin allergy that has caused her to bite at and lick her paws, which made one of them bleed and she was limping.  And she has a yeast infection in her ear.  Only a $200 vet visit.
4. Cooler fall weather.
5. Peace.  I've been feeling more peace.  Not the kind that comes from God, though I've felt that in my life many times.  The kind that comes from Acceptance.

I like to hijack stuff. So sue me.

This was a fun little project for John, Sarah, Caitlyn, and I.  It's my friend Louise's 39th birthday... in an hour.  On the 10th.  It's already the 10th where she is.  We wanted her to know how much she is loved.  Check it out and offer your well wishes!  Meet a really cool person, here. (My kids and I sing Happy Birthday en français in a video there.)

Let's you and me have some quirky fun together and maybe I'll give you a prize.

[I could have posted this tomorrow instead of two posts in a row but I was too excited! I'm going to leave this at the top of the blog for a few days.  Check for new posts below.]

I want your brain.  Your creativity.  Your humour. 

I want to give you a list of some of my favourite words and then challenge you to write a mini-story (that doesn't have to make sense) using these words, with a theme.  I want you to do this for sheer fun and amusement.  And I think some of you would. 

But then, to make it even sweeter, I'll be giving away a prize at random to participants.  No, this isn't going to become one of those giveaway blogs.   This post didn't start with the idea of a giveaway.  The giveaway was the afterthought.  And you have to WORK for it, not just leave a comment or bring me blog traffic or something promotional.  It's more like a little reward for being immensely awesome.  OBVIOUSLY the real reward for being immensely awesome is your very awesomeness.

The prize will be four Dripstiks for your kids or your neices or nephews or just for yourself.  They catch the drips from ice cream cones and popsicles.  That's my Lulu using hers.  They are one of my favourite mom inventions ever, from a [Mormon] mom of 5, Mecinna Price.

So, here's an example of how to do this story thing.

My friend John casually, randomly, spontaneously gave me a list of words one day that he likes:

stoic
melliflous
baroque
Rococo
flotilla
murky
testiCAles
mirage
flange
risqué
la mouche

And I got the idea in my head to write a kinda non-sensical piece/thing/blurb using those words.  Voila:

"He was sat, stoic.  His mouth wanted to scream, "Why can't there be more mellifluous baroque music in this world?" The onomatopeia in his head pleased him. He belonged with baroque, with Rococo, with the abundance of romance.

A flotilla of ships passed by in the murky water. It had not rained in weeks and weeds were washing up the shore. You'd have to have some big testiCAles to choose a life like that, he mused. He preferred the land.

His life was but a mirage. He was lost, like a broken flange on a lonely pipe in some risqué district of London.

A fly landed on his nose. "La mouche... nous somme même."

And then he died.  He had a brain infection."

I'm inviting you to do something similar.  And THEN, if you want, I'd love for you to send me a list of YOUR favourite words and we'll repeat this whole thing again, using YOUR words.  You can attach it to your comment, under your story. 

Keep in mind that if they are words that are all "banana" and "tree" and "life", then I'm not going to pick that list because it won't be funny.  It's easy to write something using the word "banana".  It's much harder to use the word "baroque". And the point is to sound silly.  The more pretentious the words, especially, the more ridiculous the writing will sound.  Keep in mind, IT DOESN'T HAVE TO MAKE SENSE, really.

So, for now, these are some of my favourite words.  I just like the way they sound.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something with as many pop culture references as possible and make it under 200 words.  And, just to pet my ego, if you work in a Natashaism, I'll double your chance of winning the giveaway.  (For inspiration, check out this AWESOME post from Mike, where I got the idea to have as many pop culture references as possible.  Funny stuff.)

scintillating
bloke
stipulate
trollop
peckish
pants
twitterpated
greige (beige + grey)
caoutchouc (my favourite French word-- means "rubber")
Qatar
fauxhawk (fake mohawk, obviously)
nepotism

In the comments, GO!

"He was sat, stoic.  His mouth wanted to scream, "Why can't there be more mellifluous baroque music in this world?" The onomatopeia in his head pleased him. He belonged with baroque, with Rococo, with the abundance of romance.

A flotilla of ships passed by in the murky water. It had not rained in weeks and weeds were washing up the shore. You'd have to have some big testiCAles to choose a life like that, he mused. He preferred the land.

His life was but a mirage. He was lost, like a broken flange on a lonely pipe in some risqué district of London.

A fly landed on his nose. "La mouche... nous somme même."

And then he died.  He had a brain infection."

I'm inviting you to do something similar.  And THEN, if you want, I'd love for you to send me a list of YOUR favourite words and we'll repeat this whole thing again, using YOUR words.  You can attach it to your comment, under your story. 

Keep in mind that if they are words that are all "banana" and "tree" and "life", then I'm not going to pick that list because it won't be funny.  It's easy to write something using the word "banana".  It's much harder to use the word "baroque". And the point is to sound silly.  The more pretentious the words, especially, the more ridiculous the writing will sound.  Keep in mind, IT DOESN'T HAVE TO MAKE SENSE, really.

So, for now, these are some of my favourite words.  I just like the way they sound.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something with as many pop culture references as possible and make it under 200 words.  And, just to pet my ego, if you work in a Natashaism, I'll double your chance of winning the giveaway.  (For inspiration, check out this AWESOME post from Mike, where I got the idea to have as many pop culture references as possible.  Funny stuff.)

scintillating
bloke
stipulate
trollop
peckish
pants
twitterpated
greige (beige + grey)
caoutchouc (my favourite French word-- means "rubber")
Qatar
fauxhawk (fake mohawk, obviously)
nepotism

In the comments, GO!