Me: On a Diet

The day before the diet:  No sugar, no dairy, no wheat, no problem! It's just 14 days, right?  I can do anything for 14 days.  That's it!  I'm totally going on this diet.  Tomorrow. First, I have to watch all the videos about the diet, post them on face book, buy 45 pounds of fresh produce, buy some cute new clothes in my future size and drink all the wine in the house.

Two weeks go by: 45 pounds of once fresh produce are emptied from the vegetable bin.

The day before the diet (take 2):  Oh. My. God. These can't be my fat pants.  And where are my feet?

Day 1:  This is the most boring diet ever. Water. And more water. And celery. Oh, hey, look, a thumb-size portion of salmon and 4 cups of raw cabbage!    

Day 2:  Dr. Oz is a raging psychopath.  Sure, he looks nice.  Ted Bundy looked nice. I haven't lost one bloody pound.  I hate this diet.  I hate Dr. Oz.

Day 3:  What I could do is, get tickets for the show, disguise myself as a harmless elderly person, and then when that psychotic bastard makes his entrance, I could leap onto the stage, smash him in the face with my purse, then run up the middle aisle and be out of the building before anyone has time to react.  That would show him.  Why hasn't someone already thought of this?

Day 4:  Or I could kidnap him, tie him up in my basement, and force feed him donuts and wonder bread for three months.  Then, when he's fat and hooked, I'll feed him nothing but water, celery, and the occasional 6 ounces of chicken. See how he likes it.

Day 5:  I could just eat him...

Day 6:  Remember when we could have wine?  Remember cheese and crackers? Oh oh oh, remember that chocolate fudge birthday cake that time? Good times.

Day 7:  If I were rich, I would buy my own liposuction machine. I'd suck all the fat out of my ass and inject some into my cheeks. Then I'd send the rest to Dr. Oz.  In a red wagon.

Day 8:  If I were rich and had my own liposuction machine, all of the housewives would want to be my friends, except maybe Lisa Vanderpump.  Her house probably has its own liposuction salon.

Day 9:  Lisa's liposuction salon probably employs mean, ridiculously attractive millennials who'll make up the cast of the next Bravo reality show, Vanderpump Hoes.

Day 10:  I mean Hose.

Day 11:  The next person in this house who asks me, "What's for dinner?", is going to get pistol-whipped with this bunch of celery.  They'll be like, "Hey, Mom, what's for dinner?", and I'll be like, "Oh, hey, meet my leetle friend! Smack. Smack. Smack."  That's what you get for being able to eat potatoes.

Day 12:  I could make a documentary about dieting.  I'll renovate a Winnebago and travel cross country interviewing people on diets.  The cinematography will be stunning; the narrative, life-changing.  I'll dedicate it to Dr. Oz.

Day 13:  In the movie version of me making a movie, Nicole Kidman can play me.  I'll hang out on the set. We'll eat broccoli and chia seeds together.

Day 14:  If I film part of my documentary in Hawaii, and I'm invited to a luau, I won't be able to eat anything but the pig.  I'll bet that's considered bad form."Oh, hey, Aloha, where's your pig?"

Day 15:  It's probably not that easy to get a Winnebago to Hawaii anyway, which is too bad because I LOST 10 POUNDS.  I would look stunning in a muumuu.  If Bruce Springsteen saw me in a muumuu, he'd probably write a song about it.  And sing it at the luau.  Then we'd sit in a corner by ourselves, eating all the pig.

Day 16:  Mmmmm Wine.

2 weeks later:  Whaaaaa?  Who inflated me????  And where are my feet?

You can have the fruit.  I'll take the pig.

  

You Don't Like Me! You Really Don't Like Me! Wait. Really? You Don't Like Me?

A month or two ago I auditioned for a little show called LTYM (Listen To Your Mother).  You've probably never heard of it-it's only the motherhood version of TED talks that takes place each May in some 32 states.  I was not chosen.  I was disappointed for a minute but then I rallied and decided to share my disappointment with the world. It's kind of a hobby.

Failure is hard, isn't it?  It smarts.  I know there are logistics that go into the planning of the show and it is not all about me sucking.  Still, had I read better, chosen a different piece, done something different, I would be sharing better news.  Winning News.

Then, just a couple days after I received the bad news, something wonderful happened.  My very best friend in the world was recognized for her poetry via a different channel.  I felt encouraged again.  GG supported me, and I supported her, through the submission of our pieces, the long waiting period, and the final verdict. It was fun and we were 50% successful in our submissions.  That's not a bad average.

See how I did that there?  I've officially attached myself to success.  I've hitched my wagon to a star.

Anyway, if you'd like to read the story that got rejected by LTYM, here it is . It's about how I forced people to attend my son's birthday using military tactics. Come to think of it, it may not be the best example of good mothering.  If you'd like to read GG's winning poetry, you are just going to have to wait until she gives me permission - I think there are rules involved, yada yada, but soon, I swear.  It's worth the wait. And I'd tell you that even if she didn't win.

If you are in the Providence area, please support LTYM 2014 at the RISD Auditorium on May 10.  You should go.  If you don't believe me, ask your mother.

Chicken out

Chicken's Loyalty Program

We here at the Chicken's Consigliere would like to say thank you for being a loyal reader.  We know there are a lot of blogs out there, and we are honored....

Wait.   What did you say?  You're not a loyal reader?  You're just looking for a good chicken casserole recipe?  Oh!  Welcome!  Are you a member of  our loyalty club? Would you like to join?

In the style of great brands everywhere, we would like to buy your loyalty.  Here, have some points!  We're literally sprinkling points everywhere, see them?  Get them!  Grab some pretty sparkly  points why don't ya.  Here's a thousand points for your e-mail address, which we will litter with urgent calls to action, each and every day.  We'll give you ten thousand points every time you click our link.   Refer us to a friend, we'll give you 25,000 points.  If that friend leaves their favorite blog and swears fealty to the House of Chicken, we'll reward your friend with 100,000 points and a lifetime Golden Egg membership.

We here at Chicken's Consigliere are literally paving your way across the road with points, points and more points.  Why?  Well, that's the million dollar question, isn't it?  

What can you and your friends buy with Chicken Points?  Let us tell you about our membership benefits.  You can trade 50,000 points for an imaginary stay in the imaginary luxury accommodations of your choice.  Just think, you can imagine yourself by a beautiful pool or waterfall or stone fireplace (your choice!!)  You can sip imaginary cocktails while imaginary fairies, cowboys and naughty minxes anticipate your every need.  

You can also trade Chicken points for magic carpet ride points to anywhere in the universe.  That's right-we've teamed up with Sir Richard Branson, who's starting a magic carpet ride service to go along with his airline, rocket ship, and submarine services.  It's not just a magic carpet ride.  It's a Virgin carpet ride. 

You're a saver not a spender?  You're a Blog Warrior who spends 211 days a year reading blog posts?  We salute you!  With the points you're earning, you'll reach Golden Egg status in no time.  You're basically God in our blogosphere. You can buy a blog posting on any subject you choose and Disney will build a theme park to go with it. We'll send you your own Iron Throne.  And a dragon.  Not only that, but every time you stop by our blog, you'll have your choice of bottled water OR 500 extra Chicken points.  

Here at Chicken's Consigliere, we strive to exceed your blog expectations.  When you complain that our last blog post was trite and distasteful, we'll cough up an extra 5,000 points for your wasted time.  We'll upgrade you to top commenter  just because your imaginary towels weren't fluffy enough.   Oh no!  Did you lose the link to our website and miss our last blog post?  That's totally our fault. Please, accept these 50,000 extra points and a personal letter of apology from the Chicken.  And, by the way, should you ever feel inconvenienced or disappointed in our blog, please, call Mr. Chicken's office and let him in in on your hurt and disappointment.  We can't improve unless you tell us where we've failed.  And believe me, we are prepared to reward you mightily for being that squeaky blog cog.  We believe in nothing more than the entitlement of our loyal members.  

We're not just a blog. We're family.   In fact, we love you more than your family.  Does your family give you 40,000 loyalty points because your throat is sore from yelling about your lost phone charger?  The one you lost?  No?  Didn't think so.  They don't care about your  charger or your sore throat.  They're rolling their eyes at you.  So are we-but here's 40,000 extra points AND a bottle of water, just for your outrage.  Please accept our apologies.  We're sorry you lost your phone charger.  Totally our fault.

Chicken out

Disclaimer:  We are not rolling our eyes.  Not even a little bit.  Disney will not build you a theme park, nor will we send you an iron throne.  We do not own any dragons. Dragons are pretend.  Surely, you knew that.  Sir Richard Branson is still working on the magic carpet prototype. He's going to be really annoyed with us for letting the cat out of the bag. This is going to cost us a lot of points.

Disclaimer II:  Just to be super clear, there are no points.  And we don't know Sir Richard Branson. It pains us to admit it.