The Recap of the Week I Give Everything Up

Last Monday I noted that I would be giving up TV watching, and that while I was at it, I was going to give up eating wheat, dairy, sugar and sweetener too.

So it's the last day of this proposed week I give everything up and since cheating on my first day --

I cheated on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Sigh?

Here's the thing -- I did cut down drastically on my intake of television, super-processed protein bars with 6 unfriendly grams of saturated fats each, as well as the extra coffee I drink every morning. I had all but two diet pops instead of 6 or 7 over the course of the week. And while I did indeed fail at this "giving up" experiment, I did manage to remember super healthy old habits of mine like drinking green tea and working out before zoning out in front of the TV. What's more is that I probably read more than I usually do, not counting what I read everyday as part of my job, or what I read to Jimi (picture Hop on Pop, or the four hundredth time I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar. That Caterpillar showed me the way!)

Anyway, I was jonesing and starting to realize what a pain in the ass it was not to eat wheat, especially when pizza is my favourite food. What was I going to bring home on Friday night for dinner? A rice cake topped with tomato sauce? And then there was the birthday party, impromptu trip to Arby's on Saturday -- yes, Arby's, the most special restaurant there is -- where there is no possible way of not ingesting sugar or dairy or wheat unless you eat the meat plain and by itself and that would just be an exercise in masochism.

Morale of the story: really, Nikki? Give up wheat, dairy, TV and sweetener? Time to move to the organic veggie farm, harvest adzuki beans and read crystals to see the future. Then put on your hemp pajamas and get on your high horse to save those endangered whales. Then have a baby and don't tell anyone what the sex of the baby is, cause you know what, that would be the next damn step!

Good night.

The Tuesday in the Week I Give Everything Up

Day 2 has not been without its charm, but compared to my first day of what some have dubbed as "crazy" it was a so-called piece of cake.


Lentil cake, that is.Well, lentil chips, really. I guess some reluctant health food nut finally had enough of the hemp ice cream and wheat grass smoothies and decided it was time to invent something a little bit more like the food they once loved. Anyway, I bought a bag of dill flavoured lentil chips this afternoon even though it's not like I gave up chips, popcorn, and their ilk. But it's not like it makes a hell of a lot of sense to eradicate moo juice and Shreddies from my diet this week but it's cool to eat Doritos.

I digress! Today went off without a hitch. The only thing was that I kept forgetting what I had told myself not to eat -- I wonder if my brain bits require some sort of sweetener to keep them working? Right?

Little Jimi must be catching on. He tried to cram his milk-filled sippy cup in my face after dinner with an impish grin on his little mug. As if, kid! Take your would-be generosity elsewhere. I'm doing an experiment.

Anyway...as for no TV, I had to keep my back turned while Alex watched Wings of War or Hitler's Bodyguard or whatever it was that was on again, and last night I passed the time with a kettlebell workout followed by reading. Good times!

I can't say I in any way feel different yet, but two days in and I'm inpatiently waiting for next Monday.
Any suggestions as to what I should try to go without next week?
See ya!

The Week I Give Up Everything

My PVR died on Friday, despite attempts to reset it and hope for the best. In place of my list of recorded shows I get a box that tells me I'm shit out of luck: "The storage device is not working, so go do something else for a change." Anyway, after sweating angrily over this trouble, I have decided to go cold turkey. I'm giving up TV for a week.

And while I'm at it, I'm also going to give up sugar, artificial sweetener, dairy and wheat. And I'm going to do it "just to see." Yeah, just to see how much my life will change when I am not zoned out watching Gilmore Girl reruns, fighting a thirst for Coke Zero and granola bars, and afternoon trips to Tim's around the corner from my little office for ice coffee. Just to see what may happen to the weird new red patches I have been getting on my hands that don't go away with relentless hand cream applications. Yes, this even means giving up the additive-laden protein bars that have taken over yogurt and berries as my mid-morning snack.

Okay, so yogurt's out for a bit, too...

Anyway, here is how day one went:

AM: took soy milk in my coffee instead. Was at least endeared to my new Dunkin' Donuts go-mug. Not bad, if you don't mind the thought of "milk" coming from a bean.  While we're at it, what is almond milk? Just how does one milk an almond? All the while have I been eating little almond boobs without knowing it?

AM snack: two stale brown rice cakes with peanut butter (natural, naturally). Crunchy. May have lost a semblance of maturity and poise when crumbs became stuck to my new dress and I picked them off to eat. Also, had green tea instead of morning coffeee number 2. And it was green.

Lunch time: ate leftover veggie soup and pack of nuts. And apple. And drank some water. Suddenly, the prospect of not having a bagel if I wanted one is really angering me.

Afternoon:...okay, I caved on day 1. I got my ice coffee with milk and a pack of Splenda. Whatever.

Afternoon: Yeah, and then I had one of those protein bars. So, this is what happens when you agree to go to a meeting after work and...oh hell, enough with the excuses. It's only the first day, right? Ah ha ha.

PM: Dinner was chicken and veggies, no TV except what burned my eyeball when I approached it to turn it off.

Now it's 830, and right around the time I would be hunkering down with my PVR after completing all my mom and wifely duties. Instead I am foisting this new blog post to the world.

Tomorrow will be day 2. Then Weds day 3. Then I wonder what Friday will be like when I don't eat my afterwork pizza. Oh my. At least, at least, at least, I wasn't masochistic enough to give caffeine up as part of my week-long experiment to prove something unknown to myself. In the meantime, I will have to replace dreams of pizza, ice coffee and Coke Zero with water, rice cakes, and tea, and for TV....is Netflix off limits?

I can feel my insides cheering.

Flea Collared

The 400 Flea Market, aptly located at the 400 and Innisfil Beach Road just south of Barrie, harkens to anyone in need of fun finds not available at mainstream retail outlets. While there today, I marvelled at the availability of throw blankets adorned with Taylor Lautner's half-naked teen wolf self, Newfie novelties like pineapple Crush pop, (why is this drink only available as a Newfie treat? Really Cadbury? As if the rest of Canada may not appreciate pineapple flavoured pop?) and Jingle Jugs. The jugs, suprising, had nothing to do with milk. Cow's milk, anyway.  Nope, they were mechanical boobs that hang on a fancy plaque on your wall, and when turned on, the bikini-clad boobs bounce and sing. If only I had bought stock in this company!

Not to be outdone are the "outfitters." Luckily, if you are in the market for lethal weapons like fun deadly knives and clubs, pellet guns made to look suspiciously like machine guns, and ninja foot spikes, this is the place for you! Goodness, I was overwhelmed by the quality products offered by not one but two dealers for the violent wannabe vigilante in all of us.

But the best thing there? The Scarface lamp. Because nothing says night table decor like Pacino packing heat!

Awesome crap. That's pretty much it.

The Beaver. Huh?

Gibson with his hand in the beaver. Why don't you go molest a wallaby instead?

Okay, so as I was leafing through the Entertainment section of the Star yesterday and came upon an ad for the new movie The Beaver. Under the title it read "He's here to save Walter's life."

Uh, is this for real?

Oh, Dolly! Your song rings true!

“Working 9 to 5, what a way to make a living! It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it.”

Am I yet again inspired by Netflix? Yes, currently they are airing the famous Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, and Dolly Parton escapade about three chicks working for the man, and their eventual success in overthrowing their deadbeat boss played by Dabney Coleman but maybe this week’s blog is more to do with my return to work this Monday from my maternity leave. So, I have devised some ideas on how to survive the cubicle jungle.

For one, how do we deal with lunch-stealers? Seriously, is someone truly poor and starving, or are we just dealing with an asshole here? Can you be so much of a tool that you figure, “Mmm, strange lunch. It doesn’t have a name on it, so it must be for me and my gluttonous ass.” How to fix this common office quandary? As Bart would put it, “poison pizza.” I mean, they’ll be dead, so you’ll know immediately who ate it, plus they’ll be dead so they won’t be eating your lunch anymore, right?

Also, ever fight over what’s playing on the radio? Some offices let staff take turns choosing the station, with Bill picking Q107 on Mondays and Sheryl picking Virgin Radio Tuesday, etc. But what if you just can’t stand to listen to anything anyone else wants to hear? Easy fix! Every time a song comes on, jump up and start to dance. Show everyone your robot. And sing along. And grind with the girl next to you, whether you be man or lady. “Oh yeah, this is my favourite song!” you screech. Turn up the volume. Sometimes pick the radio up and run around the office with it over your head, shouting, “I’m John Cusack!” Then when it’s your turn to pick the station, just sit quietly and bother no one. Eventually, you will win the right to listen to your favourite station – everyday, all day.

Meetings. Mostly boring, mostly in too-hot conference rooms, and you’re likely within withering-glance view of the boss, so it’s tough to play Brickbreaker on your BlackBerry and make it look like you’re “just checking for an important email.” While there’s the age-old trick of painting your eyeballs on your eyelids, that can only work for about the first three meetings before others begin to catch on. So how to break up the boredom? I guess we could act interested, listen, take notes, and participate, but who the hell wants to do that? That only leaves us with a few options:

• Option one is to give yourself a paper cut. Shriek wildly that you have hemophilia and have to get a blood transfusion immediately. Grab your stuff and fly out the door. When others check on how you’re doing, just tell them it was a false alarm and you made a mistake – you actually have conferencitis, and you’re much better now.
• Option two on getting out of a meeting would be to spill coffee on the most important person there. They would have to get up in a huff (most of these highly important types are sort of uppity, so they will), thereby breaking up the meeting as Mr. or Ms. Big Stuff goes to wash the coffee from his or her burning crotch, leaving you to begin to chat with your other equally bored co-workers about the latest goings-on on Sister Wives.
• Option three is always just to get up and make like you’re going to the can, but really you’re headed to the staff lounge to check out what’s on Montel for about 15 minutes. Return with a sense of happiness – after all, Sylvia Brown was on today and you’re happy to think you have a spirit animal in your life (likely, mine would be a hedgehog. Or that thing, Tanglet, who worked for the villainous Duchess Ravenwaves on Lady Lovely Locks).

And what about diversity and love? Well, office love and acceptance takes a new step forward with the coming out of the office photocopier. You always wondered why it never printed in black and white but instead fabulous purples and reds. Celebrate diversity with a Photocopier Pride Parade every July (during office hours, and not on statutory holidays or weekends), and hire cops to make sure none of those bigoted fax machines try to ruin the party.

Happy Easter, blog-readers!

Toddler Playsets Yet to be Created

The people at Fisher-Price need to know that they are missing something. Amidst the barnyard, house, and castle, they are forgetting about the more likely, more modern playsets for little ones to pretend with. With that, here is a list of Little People playsets I think belong in every kid's toybox:

 

 

1. Ontario Hospital. Comes with ER crammed with Little People. Easy stacking for little hands! Also comes with rerouted ambulance!

2. Tim Hortons. Complete with drive-thru and sign explaining the rising prices of coffee, line-up of coffee-hungry Newmarketonians, and dysfunctional Iced Cappuccino maker. Perfect for recreating your toddler's hectic afternoons.

3. Fitness Centre. Mirrors aplenty in the free weights area. Comes with our favourite Little Person “Anabolic Andy,” with cutesy-pie bugling veins and acne, and “Leathery Lily” just exiting the tanning bed in time for her fitness competition. Keep toys out in the sun for a more lifelike dehydrated look and feel!

4.  Golf Course. Comes with the whole Maple Leafs team, Ron Wilson, and even Abe Sapien look-alike, Jonas Gustavvson.

5. A-Team Van. Imagine a tiny B.A. Barracus, with a tiny Mohawk and rotund body with all that bling? I pity the two-year old who doesn’t get this playset.

6. Chilean Mine. Yes, it even comes with working escape elevator!