Snackie’s World

September 6th, 2008

When it comes to my character traits, there are a few that make me want to run away from myself yet there are others of which I’m actually quite proud. Lately though, it seems like one of my very best characteristics keeps chewing me up and spitting me out. I call it…daring to hope.

I’m a very optimistic person, no matter how jaded I seem at times. The snark is generally just my sense of humor or random irritation rearing its ugly head. Yet, way deep deep down inside, I have so much hope for so many things. Sure, this comes in a super sized order with regard to hoping for a better planet, a better president, a better county, and even a better me. Those things generally don’t end up crushing me as much as the smaller things.

Ahhhh, the little innocuous things that shouldn’t matter.

The thing that generally ends up gutting me is a mixture of hope and something I’ve mentioned here before…my insanely keen intuition. I feel things and know things before they happen and yet, deep inside my heart of hearts, when I am just not ready to face what I see, I hang on to the hope that I am wrong. Perhaps diving in head first to the reality of any situation is a better deal because at least it’s like ripping off a band aid and getting the fuck on with it.

But I struggle.

“What if I’m wrong?”, I think. “I mean, there’s a huge chance that I am making mountains out of molehills again so I’ll just sit by and let time pass. Maybe then something will change and my intuition will just be freak paranoia!”.

I wonder if that’s actual hope or stupidity. My nonsensical need to believe in the good in others often taints the whole picture as well. I want to believe that certain people won’t ever hurt me, that their intentions are pure and that what they’re telling me is the truth. In some cases, even in a world where I do believe that actions speak louder than words, I falter and fall. I can give extreme credit to the smallest of actions, clinging once again to that hope.

However, actions bear no credence when the lack of them are still being justified.

I often wonder if people mistake my kindness and understanding as weakness. I hope not because I think that most people who know me understand that although my heart is so very soft, my resolve and love for myself is so very strong. There’s that raging dichotomy in me betwen the voice that screams, “I deserve more than this and don’t understand you!” and that which whispers “just be kind and give a few more inches and everything will be fine”.

Tonight I have tapes swirling in my head, situations drifting in and out like dark clouds and I am so very confused (and maybe hurt too). I’m not even sure where to begin but just like Scarlet O’Hara, I’m sure I’ll fix it tomorrow. Until then, I just keep on swimming. What else is a girl to do, right?

Like Water For Chocolate Kisses,
Me

Posted in Emotional Technology | Comments (24)

September 4th, 2008

I’ve never done a Half Naked Thursday. In fact, this will probably be the ONLY one that I will ever do. For various reasons, I am posting this picture that Unkey Monkey took of me while I was at his and Jester’s house.

1.) Part of learning to love my body for what it is and not what I want it to be, means posting pictures that are accurate and not always cropped to shit. This means arm fat, or whatever other kind of chubba lubba is shown here.

2.) I need fun and frivolity. I want to feel very much like the Hilly in this picture. She looks a bit mischievous, like she’s sitting on top of her emotional world. Right now, I’m in a sea of confusion about something and my face is all in scrunched up mode. This face in the picture is much better.

3.) Why the hell not. I always complain about what other people do then end up doing it too. So I am a hypocrite. At least *I can admit it.

4.) Really…my boobs. Why not be Whorey McBloggyslut just for one day? I don’t care what you say!

Chesty LaRue Kisses,
Me

Posted in Hilly's Insecurities, Hilly's Life 2008 | Comments (50)

September 3rd, 2008

Bloggers forgive me…it has been two days since my last confession post. Wait, it’s only been a couple of days? Huh…it feels like a week! In any case, I haven’t been writing because my thoughts have been all over the place, discombobulated at best. My mind is like this overflowing bathtub that is now spilling water on to the floor. So what I *need* to do is bend over, clean up the mess, then make a totally random bullet-y type post and just get over my anal need for flowing continuity (and redundancy). So here goes nothing…

Displaced: Earlier today I brought up the fact that I am a political fish out of water living here in Orange County (or “The OC” as the kids like to say). I’m not sure of the exact statistics but I think that I now live in the most Republican county in California. Hell, I don’t even know if there *is* another red county in this state. Back when I lived in Northern California, I could throw out a snarky remark or well thought out diatribe regarding the Republicans and their beliefs and people would just nod. Sometimes they’d clap. Rarely, they’d kiss me. But now that I live in the People’s Republic of Irvine (which, btw, is totally what started me on the PRB word), I have to watch what I say around most people. It’s hard to be a completely liberal girl trapped around erm…well, I’ll be nice and just say “people who do not in any way, shape or form share my political beliefs”.

Moving along to sports now, I hate the Lakers with a fiery passion. You see, I was born and raised in Sacramento and if you know anything about basketball rivalry, you know that Kings fans and Lakers fans just do not mix. Plus…purple and gold? Ew, no thanks.

Also? The beautiful people? Yeah, I am not one of them. Most people in South Orange County are tan, blond, skinny and beautifully done. That’s not me by any means. I am a voluptuous redhead who could not care less about the size of someone else’s wedding ring (or the diamond part, actually). I also do not talk about my handbags by brand, nor my shoes. You see, I say things like “I’m using my seatbelt purse today and wearing these cute black shoes!”. They say things like “I’m carrying my Prada and wearing my Jimmy’s”. Blech.

Fashion Plates: Boy, I’m on Twitter rewind again right now, but whatever. So, our FedEx woman came into the office today and as she was leaving I noticed that she was wearing a banana clip in her hair. While I felt the immediate need to make fun of her, I also remembered my secret longing that those damned things would come back in style…or at least a modified version of them. Look, my hair is naturally wavy and the longer it gets, the harder it is to maintain. Banana clips were always the best way to keep my hair both out of my face and looking cute. Alas, it is not meant to be. I’d rather not be a victim of a fashion faux-pas just because I PPH banana clips. Anyway, that whole incident got me thinking about clothes that I hate to wear or would never ever ever be caught dead in. You ready?

Shoes/Socks: I loathe wearing socks and shoes. I grew up in California and we’re the home of the flip flops, sandals, mules and slides. I mean, down here where I live, there is never any need for cute boots or any other kind of shoe that requires that much hosiery. I actually do have a couple of pair of Skecher’s loafers and Anarchic mary janes that I wear without socks or nylons. I just bleh…hate the feeling. I was telling Shiny earlier that it feels like I have trapped feet. He was telling me shortly thereafter that he thinks I need psychological help.

Fanny Packs: Just, no. So I was reading some of the South Beach message boards the other day and people were talking about how hard it is to keep cold snacks when they are going hiking for the day or what have you. My initial thought was…”insulated fanny pack!”. Of course, I had to practice ten minutes of self-flagellation then genuflect before Michael Kors just for the mere thought of it. I mean sure, they are handy but hell no on the fashion tip, people. I know some of my readers probably have them and please don’t get defensive or think I am putting you down. It’s just…you’ll never ever ever ever ever see me carrying one. Ever.

Skinny Jeans: Did I mention that I’m fat? I love skinny jeans on skinny girls, even half and half girls. However, I am not pouring my ass into tight jeans to even look fatter. I will stick with straight legged goodness or boot cut jeans. Call me a faux-pas.

Life’s A Beach: A week ago I started the South Beach diet, as you all probably know and have heard more times that you probably ever fucking wanted to. I just want to say that I love this way of eating and as of today have lost 10 freaking pounds!!!!!! I cannot even begin to tell you how addicted I must have been to sugar. I feel great every day now…full of life, energy, positive thoughts and I actually feel good about myself and the foods I am putting into my body. It’s been a long time since I had a vegetable with every meal and didn’t immediately try to shove a handful of Twizzlers in my mouth when things got rough. I owe it all to Foo, who told me about it without giving me the hard sell. You see, she’s been on it longer than I have so she’s my mentor or sponsor. The trick is that she doesn’t even know it, heh. But seriously, round of applause for her having lost 14.5 pounds!!! Anyway, it’s just nice to feel good about who I am. My jeans are looser and yanno, even though duh, I am still fat, I feel sexier and cuter because I am doing something about it. It’s all about esteem of the self, baby.

Hot Wax Kisses,
Me

Posted in Hilly's Life 2008, Random Schmandom, Uncategorized | Comments (25)

September 1st, 2008

I try really hard to live my life as this bright shining star. Even when the chips are down and I feel as if my whole world is collapsing, I like to find that silver lining and find a way to turn that misery into something that one day will become positive. It’s not as if I have this crazy psychotic need to *not* allow myself negative emotions of any variation; I think I’ve displayed that time and time again. It’s just that, well…this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. I think it has something to do with the fact that even though I often come across as snarky or jaded, I’m actually a little bit of a Pollyanna based optimist who thrives on the hope of a better day. A better moment. A better me.

The one area where I fail greatly at this is letting other people have too much power over me and subsequently, my emotions. I’m not going to sit here and whine like a baby when I tell you that when certain people hurt me, it cuts so deep that I have no idea what to feel. This weekend I’ve gone between confusion, anger and being extremely hurt but I’ve not said a thing to the person who is making me feel this way. Did you catch that? I just did it. Apparently, someone is making me feel this way and I’m not taking the responsibility needed to stop that from happening. People don’t have power over us…we let them.

It’s so hard for me to find the fine line between caring about someone so much versus letting their actions or non-actions affect every little part of my soul, so much so that I cry for an hour wondering what the hell I did wrong. Chances are, that in many cases, it’s not me…it’s them. I’ve never really recognized this codependency issue inside of me until now. Funny thing is, a good friend of mine who I won’t link in case he doesn’t want himself exposed, pointed this out to me about a month ago. I think that I ignored him because I didn’t want to fix yet one more thing about myself.

I’ve come to a very fast conclusion that the last year of my life had left me feeling “less than”…maybe because certain situations warranted that emotion, maybe because of the weight I had gained due to those circumstances, or maybe it’s just that I allowed myself more moments of weakness than I had in a very long time. Whatever the case may be, it needs to stop. I’ve taken the reigns on my life, taken back my body by doing this whole South Beach/exercise thing and really loving how I feel, taken back my shattered heart and started gluing it back together and most importantly, have decided that I’m worth it. Wait, wasn’t that a commercial or something? Ha.

So the thing is…nobody puts Baby in a corner. And if they do? Baby needs to get her fat ass *out* of that corner and realize that’s just not where she belongs. Sometimes it is just that simple.

Labor Day Kisses,
Me

Posted in Emotional Technology, Redefining Hilly | Comments (24)

August 31st, 2008

Lately I’ve been all about the resurrection and revival of good things. Therefore, today we are going to play the second installment of a very a fun “word association game”. The best way to make this super radical badical is to see how many people come up with either tons of the same answers or tons of different answers for the same word! That means y’all playas need to well…..play! Try not to look at what anyone else has said before you comment!

Yeah, you know what time it is…

WHAT WORDS DO YOU ASSOCIATE WITH THE FOLLOWING?

[The rules are simple…you copy and paste the following words into the comment box. Then you answer each word that I have typed below with the FIRST word that comes into your mind. For example, if you said "snackie", I would say "poo" (written: snackie - poo). Easy enough, right??? Let’s play!]

1. bush
2. home
3. smelly
4. money
5. poker
6. lip
7. feel
8. very
9. be
10. dork
11. sexy
12. love
13. my
14. soft
15. hard
16. sock
17. lick
18. heart
19. hand
20. drama
21. temporary
22. barn
23. song
24. gamma
25. blue
26. Hilly

My answers will be in the comments section because I know how hard it is to come up with your own word when you have already got someone else’s all stuck in the nooks and crannys of your mine!

“That’s Telekinesis, Kyle” Kisses
Me

Posted in Snackie Sunday 2008 | Comments (36)

August 30th, 2008

This post mayyyy veer a little more into the TMI realm than you are used to seeing here but yanno, whatever…it’s Saturday. Besides, this really is about trying to interpret what the hell is going on in my head and/or determining if I’ve fucking lost it.

So I keep having this recurring dream, almost every damned night.

Someone that I find attractive with either show up at my door. show up at my hotel room, have me over to his house, or any other scenario in which it’s time for the sweet, gentle sexing. As soon as we start kissing then things get hot and heavy (as they always do), I realize that…*gasp*…I haven’t erm, made sure that Princess HoopieDoo is looking her best. That’s right, my sweet sweet pussy is um, unkempt. Yanno, only in my dreams, thank you very much.

What the hell?

Look, I could see this being about me needing to take care of myself better if my SSP wasn’t always in perfectly shaved condition, because hi…it always is. I’m like an adult version of girl scout that way. Yanno, Semper Paratus and all that shit. Soooo then, what the hayck could this annoyingly recurring dream be about? Obviously, I am not prepared? In my dream, I always feel like I miss out on the good stuff because of that one issue. I make up excuses not to have sweet loving with this guy rather than tell the truth or ask to be excused in order to “freshen up”.

There’s got to be a reason that I dream this. Then again, maybe it’s just so I will obsess over the shavage like I do about everything else.

Love My Venus Razor Kisses,
Me

Posted in In Dreams, Silly Hilly, TMI | Comments (22)

August 29th, 2008

Yesterday a friend and I were talking about the Hot Blogger Calendar thingie and both of us agreed that if we never have to see another person whore themselves out for votes on their blogs, we’d be thrilled. Don’t get me wrong here…I’m not judging you if you are one of the many that have banners, ads, crotchlessness, or have made promises you don’t intend to keep just to win this thing. That’s YOUR bag even if it certainly isn’t mine. It’s not that I think it’s stupid or anything like that either…I just don’t care about it. Especially not enough to read about it day in and day out.

Before you call me a snarky bitch, just wait. I actually have a point.

The thing about me not wanting to read about this damned calendar or other things that may be making my nerves all crazy is the fact that I don’t have to. I can simply hit my F1 button to take me to my next feed and move right along. There is no call for me to make a snarky statement on your blog nor is there any reason for me to be some fucking drama whore that makes you feel bad about yourself because you dare care about your hotness factor. It all boils down to my life philosophy.

Live and let live.

I get so irritated when people attack others for doing things that they actually think are radical badical, just because the other person thinks it is the suck. In my world, this often comes in the form of judgment about which diet I am on at any given time. Recently, I decided to go on the South Beach Diet as a result of talking to Foo about how she’s been doing on it, as well as hearing from my sister’s boyfriend that it’s a pretty good way to lose weight. After also reading books and making an informed decision, I decided to try it. It’s funny too because the topic fell into my lap almost exactly right after I decided that I really needed to go on a sugar detox and cut the refined ones out of my life. Anyway, someone who shall remain nameless gave me a heaping spoonful of their hoity shit that apparently doesn’t stink by telling me that I am a fool for doing anything other than Weight Watchers. This person then continued on to yap and yap and yap, almost to the point that they were making fun of me for being fat. The statement “you’d still be thinner if you had just stayed on Weight Watchers, so you basically did this to yourself” was uttered. I believe my last email back to this person said, “don’t ever fucking email me again”.

Yeah, sometimes I can be a sensitive and bitchy.

The thing about this girl though is that she lost 140 pounds about five years ago and has managed to keep off between 80-100 of it, depending on the “tragedies” going on in her life. I’d normally not be so flippant about tragedies but seriously, she got a bad hair cut and put on 15 pounds. Oh wait, is that me being Judy McJudgerpants? Hrm…anyway, she is the kind of person that brings up her weight loss in every conversation even if the convos have absolutely no relation to anything close to sorta matching the weight loss subject. And what’s even worse is that she bursts out with her janky ass tourettes statement of “well I lost 100 pounds so I know suffering” and when no one fawns all over her, she acts all nonchalant. “Phew”, she says, “I sure am glad they let that subject drop quickly without making too big of a deal about my accomplishment. You know how I hate to be the center of attention”.

Clearly, bitch.

It’s one thing to be a whore and admit it. *That* I can take and live with when I see others do it because hell, at least they are being themselves and are being honest. And uh, I have no idea why I am saying “they” instead of “we” cause I’m not innocent when it comes to the whoredom scale either. Anyway, if you are going to make blanket statements that basically say, “me me me” as you tug on someones pant leg, then fucking own up to it later. Don’t act coy and pretend that you never wanted people to clap for you when they don’t. That makes you even more sad and pathetic, really.

Uh, what was that I said? Oh right, live and let live. I forgot.

So, in summation, to wrap this up the best way I can, I need to tell you something. You need to get your asses over to Snackie TeeVee and subscribe or sign up to be contributors. I’m so awesome and so is my teevee site…go now now now! If you do, I will take off my bra, run around making you all cupcakes and um, make a banner that I put up here every day for a week! Yanno, or not.

Winky Cunt Kisses,
Me

Posted in Hilly's Life 2008, Random Schmandom, Snackie Snark | Comments (34)

August 27th, 2008

I’ve been torturing Brandon over at / thepenismightier \ for almost a year and a half now about writing a guest post for me. It’s either his fault for lagging or mine for not nagging…let’s call it even! In either case, I bring to you a wonderful guest post by someone who is a helluva lot more clever than I am…

Everybody remembers their first time, well maybe not my friend Timothy who we always thought was too quiet to be Father Conrad’s favorite altarboy, anyway. You remember that excitement, that buildup, the coming goosebumps, the loss of breath, the urge to fight back tears, blood in your mouth as you bite your lip, that curious noise, what was that? you wonder, mentally running through the lyrics to Old MacDonald, the smells, the flash of light, the release. The little bit of regret responsible for the urge to cuddle. The guilt, the silence, the resentment, and the lonely walk to the bathroom to see the damage done to daddy’s little flower blossom in the harsh fluorescent lights. Ahh, yes. Everybody remembers the first time someone left a comment on their blog.

MORE PLEASE.

Of course, one just isn’t enough, because you know that despite your collection of Star Wars memorabilia, despite your fondness of wearing Crocs to your weekly Gamestop excursion, despite your debilitating addiction to Rockstar Energy Drink, all of which give you the appearance of normalcy, you are now an insatiable comment whore.

I understand, I really do. I’m not going to judge you, just as I know you won’t judge me for the following conversation I had with my comments box at the height of my obsession.

Comment Box: 1

Me: Oooh, that’s nice.

Comment Box: 2

Me: Oh, that one was me. Oops.

Comment Box: 3

Me: /muffled moaning sounds

Comment Box: 4

Me: Dirty, dirty. You know you like it.

Comment Box: 7

Me: FUCKING CHRIST GOD

Comment Box: 9

Me: OH MOMMY

Comment Box: Wait? Did you say ‘mommy’?

Me: Um.(thinkfastthinkfast).Mommy was the nickname for my last girlfriend.
(whew!)

Comment Box: The fuck? YOU DIDN’T JUST CALL ME BY YOUR EX GIRLFRIEND’S NAME!

Me: Um. (thinkfastthinkfast). You’re on the pill, right? I think the condom fell off. (condom still unwrapped on computer desk).

Comment Box: BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH

Fortunately we created a freak outlet a couple years back called the Comment Orgy. It sort of went away for awhile (THANK YOU DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY) but I am hoping to bring it back starting here, starting now, at Hilly’s place, because who really wants to clean up after an orgy at their own place? The rules are simple. Leave a comment. Eat some mango, come back and leave another. No one is going to judge you. Some of you will bring vitamin B shots, some of you will bring furry costumes, some of you will bring Bibles. That’s not weird at all.

Once we get to 100 comments, then the orgy is considered a success, Hilly tries to recover without the assistance of an enema, and then picks someone to host the next comment orgy. We all go back to our lives, our jobs, the boy scout troop where we volunteer, whatever. But secretly, we all know.

Okay, now, people.

Talk dirty.

Brandon

(Hrm, Hilly sees this as a golden opportunity to up your comment whore number for August. Hilly also thinks it is a good time for lurkers to comment Hilly also is talking about herself in the third person and needs to go now.)

Posted in Around The Blogosphere, Guest Posting | Comments (214)

August 25th, 2008

I smiled when I heard the announcement over the Southwest Airlines PA System…“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Our flight into Sacramento is on time so as soon as the plane empties out, we’ll begin boarding. Just so you know, there are only about 54 people booked on this flight so it looks as if it will be a comfortable ride!”. That gate agent, who was probably more than thrilled to deliver good news then take our tickets, had no idea just how much he had completely made my day. You see, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not comfortable with my body.

Blah blah blah, lather, rinse, repeat, get over it, repeat, get over it again.

In any case, when you fly as an overweight person there is an added struggle to air travel. One very prevalent issue is that a lot of the time, your average size person does not want to sit next to an overweight person. Hell, I don’t even spill into a second seat like some people do and yet, I am extremely careful not to even touch the person in the seat next to me. I do this by tensing up and squish myself as close to the window as I can go. Sure, I feel all achy in my joints when I finally get up but hey, I’ve saved myself embarrassment, right?. Pshht. The second issue that some people suffer through is the embarrassment of having to get a seat belt extender. My fat ass worries about that too, quite honestly.

Before anyone rolls his or her eyes, I am not self-deprecating here. I’m only tackling a subject that not many people are comfortable enough to talk about. So there!

To be completely honest, I’m at that point where I can either squeeze the hell out of my fat ass and fit the seatbelt around me, crushing my little squishy spots OR I can get over it and ask for the damned extender, just to be more comfortable. Now usually, I just don’t ask and squeeze in nice and tight until I arrive at my destination with red welts across my belly and the deluded notion that I definitely am not that fat. Oh yes, sometimes that comes with a side of heartburn so bad that I’m dropping Tums into 7up as if it were a awesome new cocktail that I’d just fucking invented. Quite honestly, it’s pathetic.

While the simple answer to all of this is “lose weight”, it’s not the only answer. Until the time when I get over myself and decide to not let my emotional crutch be food, I have to start living with the body that I *do* have. I’m not quite sure exactly where this attitude came from so suddenly on Friday afternoon, but as I found myself entering the plane and asking the steward for a seatbelt extension, I honestly did not give a fuck about who snickered because I needed one. I didn’t *need* one and yet at the same time, I guess I did. Anyway, when I asked for the damned thing, I did not whisper. I did not lower my face, covering it with my hair. I did not do it with an embarrassed smile. I just asked for it in my normal voice then said “thank you” with the same kind of smile I’d have given my local barista after he hooked me up with my liquid crack.

I finally owned who I am, not who I am striving to be one day.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have lofty goals and realistic expectations when it comes to getting back in shape. I know myself well enough to know that food is my addiction just like others use booze or drugs. When life calms down and my soul is a bit happier (which it is starting to be now, btw) then the food won’t matter as much and the weight will melt away. Eventually, I’ll figure out how to NOT turn to food the next time I am miserable. These are all things I know and all things I’m finally starting to really fucking look at with honest eyes. However, in the meantime, I need to not be ashamed of who I am.

I am overweight.
I am beautiful.
I am smart.
I am funny.
I’m good in bed.
And I am a million other things that have nothing to do with my weight, thanks.

And yet, I let it own me more than I should. I only have glimpses of moments where I feel and act sexy or whatever else. The tapes constantly play in my head though…asking and wondering who is talking about me or laughing at me. Uhhh, gee…egotistical much? I guess I’m just done worrying about it. Those who love me, love me…and all of me.

I almost think that self-improving by loving myself no matter what is the first step to actually taking off the weight successfully this time. How can I do something good for my body when I hate it so much? That’s completely counterproductive and I’m done. You hear me? Done.

Love To Love Me, Baby Kisses,
Me

Posted in Health and Wellness, Hilly's Life 2008, Redefining Hilly | Comments (45)

August 23rd, 2008

Heya, people! I’m Winter. Our favorite Snackstress is out of town for a few days visiting her family, so she asked me to come by and guest post for her. She didn’t realize I would come over here, plop my ass on her blog-couch, and try to figure out how I can get those cupcakes off of the tree. I mean, c’mon. Haven’t you ever looked at her blog template and gotten hungry?

I had a few ideas in mind when Hilly first asked me to do this. I know that all of you are used to her talking about her feelings a lot. You’re used to her being the Queen of Cryptic and the Snarkstress. I have had my fair share of being like that, but I’m not so much in that place in my life at the moment. So, I tossed out all my ideas for coming over here and baring my emotions and talking about “stuff”.

Then I saw Adam’s guest post for Karl’s Summer of Love. That gave me a really good idea. I mean, I am pretty good at swapping heads in Photoshop. I should totally be able to duplicate Adam’s efforts by replacing the heads in this photo with mine and Hilly’s.

Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in Snackie Sunday 2008, Uncategorized | Comments (26)

« Older Entries

Newer Entries »