I Hate Myself.

That is not peanut butter on my face. I have been following my diet religiously and only eating carrots and Red Vines. I did not go bat shit crazy and have a peanut butter binge.


Well, maybe I had a nibble of peanut butter. And really, "nibble" is too strong a word. It was more like I opened the jar of peanut butter and just inhaled the sweet aroma of roasted peanuts, sugar, and hydrogenated vegetable oils.

Ok. I'm lying - I went completely bat shity crazy. One minute I was watching t.v., calmly chewing a carrot. And then the next thing I knew, I was half-conscious, covered in peanut butter, and chanting "Fat ugly beast. Fat ugly beast." I hate myself.

Wheels for Wendy.

I need some new wheels. I want something with speed that makes me look like a bad ass. I was thinking "motorcycle" but tell me the truth: does this make my butt look fat?


And on a scale of 1 to 10, how nasty does the seat look? Maybe I can get a sheepskin cover.

I'm Fat.

I had my coffee date with Larry this afternoon and it was wonderful. Larry is so charming and handsome, and I think he is really rich. But he is never going to love me because he thinks I'm fat. Ok, he didn't say "Wendy, you are fat." But, when I arrived, he said, "Hello, Wendy! Oh, you are bigger than I remember. That's ok, I like a healthy woman."

WTF???

I weighed myself as soon as I got home and Larry is right - I am obese. I weigh 13.2 pounds, and last week, I was only 12.9 pounds!

I am officially on a diet. I did not eat dinner. This week, I am going to run 10 miles every morning and I will only eat carrot sticks and and Red Vines. Red Vines are fat free so it's almost like eating celery. If I chew slowly, I will actually burn more calories than I actually consume. Maybe I'll write a best-selling diet book - The Red Vine Diet: Chew Yourself Svelte, by Wendy the Cactus. I am going to be so rich, and Larry is going to fall madly in love with me.

Art (Schmart).

This morning, I decided to take a walk in the scuplture garden at UCLA. It is important to expose oneself to a little culture at least every six or seven months. In college, I was friends with an art history major. And, I took an art history class for about 2 weeks before switching to Acting 101. So, I think I am more than qualified to offer some commentary about the art I saw this morning.

Now, it is important to understand that art always has a THEME. Sometimes, the theme is "Hope" and sometimes it is "Beauty." A lot of great art deals with "Tragedy" and "Love" (which is often actually the same thing). Today, all the art I saw had a single, unifying theme:

CRAP.

Seriously? You call this stuff "Art"??? Let's review:

1. This sculpture shows great promise. It depicts a lovely feminine torso - but the artist forgot the head and feet. Hey, dipshit, if you can't sculpt a woman's head, then try making something easier - like an apple or a deflated beach ball.


2. I died a little when I saw this.

3. I have to give this artist some credit. The woman has a head, two arms, and two legs. But, it still sucks.

4. This is what we call "Abstract Art" - which is just a polite way of saying "your art completely sucks, go to law school."

5. I don't even know where to begin with this one. It was made in 1934 and is called "Hybrid Fruit Called Pagoda." I think we all know what this looks like, and it is not a piece of fruit.

The Nerve. The Audacity.

You are not going to believe this. Larry just called me at work and he asked me if I would like to go out to dinner tomorrow night. WTF??? He thinks he can just call me on Friday morning and I'll be available for dinner on a Saturday night? Larry needs to understand that I am a very desirable cactus, and I have a very robust social life and if he wants to see me during the weekend, he needs to contact me no later than noon on Tuesday.

I very reluctantly agreed to meet Larry for coffee on Sunday afternoon. When I wake up on Sunday, I will do at least 3 hours of pilates so that I look extra-hot.

Extremely Serious Phone Issues, Part II.

My phones are still broken. Larry is still not able to reach me and ask me out on our dream date. I am still single and alone and it looks like I'll be doing laundry on Saturday night.

Last night, I fell asleep like this. I dreamed that I was surrounded by a thousand ringing phones. But every time I answered the phone, all I could hear was laughter.


Please go away now.

Extremely Serious Phone Issues.

I think both of my phones are broken. I emailed Larry FOUR days ago and I have not heard from him. I know he must be trying to reach me because we are meant to be together, but apparently both my phones are broken.

My cell phone just will not ring:

And I know my land line is broken because I am only getting calls from telemarketers and my mom.

Maybe I should text Larry my work number? Oh, this is AGONY!!!

Holy. Crap.

I would like to believe in a Benevolent Creator and a universe that is full of beauty, inspiration and magic.


But how do we explain dirty dishes?

Need Pool, Will Travel.

Summer is so close I could literally explode from anticipation. It is still a little too cold to go swimming. (Yes, Los Angeles does get chilly during the winter).


But I could not help myself. I just had to sunbathe for a few minutes. Don't I look cute yet sexy?

Ouch.

I don't know what hurts more: my butt or my ego.

Say "Aah"

I went to the dentist this morning. How cute am I? Look at how patiently I am waiting for the dentist.


Ok, I lied. It's all a facade. I am TERRIFIED of the dentist. I think my heart stopped beating for six or seven minutes. The only reason I look calm is because I had blacked out from stress and was visiting "my happy place." ("My happy place" = "Completely Unconscious.")

Every time I go to the dentist, I keep hoping to hear these words: "Good news! Scientists have invented a special laser beam that will painlessly clean your teeth in 12 seconds!"

Maybe next time.

Mistakes Were Made.

So. Last night.

I am told I drank a lot. I am told I flirted shamelessly with Larry. And I am told I climbed on the buffet table and sang selections from Aladdin and The Little Mermaid (see photo below).

I do not remember any of this. I remember posting a blog entry after Larry arrived. I remember kicking Miles in the shin because he refused to take me home (designated driver, my ass). And I remember heading to the bar.

After that, everything becomes fuzzy.


Photos were taken. Photos were posted on facebook. And photos were generously forwarded to all my co-workers.

I have tried to reconstruct my evening by consulting these photos. So, apparently, in the photo above, I am serenading the audience with Under the Sea. This sounds like something I would do.

But I have absolutely no idea what is happening here:

Can anyone tell me what I'm wearing? Is that like a parachute skeleton??

And, more importantly, can anyone tell me why I woke up here:

S.O.S.

HELP! I don't have much time to blog. I am at my co-worker's St. Patty's party and I was having a good time but you will not believe what happened. LARRY IS HERE! He arrived ten minutes ago. And he is deliberately ignoring me.

WTF??

OMG, I can see him right now. He is flirting shamelessly with an Ariocarpus retusus (who looks like a TOTAL slut). OMG, I think he just saw me watching him.

This is a disaster. I just told Miles that we have to go home and stupid Miles said, "No way."

So now I am stuck at a St. Patty's party with awful ugly Larry. Ok. I can do this. I will rise above the situation. I will repeat my mantra:

Dignity and Grace. Dignity and Grace. Dignity and Grace.

Wendy the Cactus, Professional Blogger.

I have business cards!!! Eek, I am so excited. The photo is a little blurry but that's my business card. I designed it myself.


In other news, Larry has not called or emailed or even sent me a text message since our date last week. Even though I was miserable the entire time, I thought our date went really, really, really well! I was witty and looked really hot. I know I shouldn't care about Larry because he's an unattractive blob - but why doesn't he like me? Seriously, I thought he would have left six or seven pathetic voicemails by now. Miles and I spent several hours last Friday brainstorming how I could let Larry down firmly but humanely. I know Larry is going to be DEVASTATED when I break his heart.

Assuming he ever calls.

Kiss Me, I'm Irish

I am so excited for Tuesday - it's St. Patrick's Day! I am 1/8 Irish, and St. Patrick's Day is probably my favorite holiday (after Halloween, Valentine's Day, Christmas, Memorial Day and Labor Day). I have been practicing my Irish accent all day.



Miles bought novelty shades for the holiday. I think they are a little excessive.


One of my co-workers is throwing a big St. Paddy's celebration, with Guinness, green soda bread, and corned beef and cabbage. I swear, I am just going to have ONE Guinness - I am still haunted by the memory of St. Paddy's Day 2008.

Larry = Loser.

I'm not ready to talk about my date with Larry.

After enduring the Most Painful Happy Hour of My Entire Life, I had guacamole for dinner. (Can you really call it "Happy Hour" if you spend the entire time planning your exit strategy?)

I digress.

The guacamole was divine. I finished the bag of chips and all the guacamole in five minutes. Ok, it was probably closer to three minutes. So then I ordered a second bag of chips and more guacamole. (There might have been a third order of guacamole, but it's hard to remember the details. I'm not great with math. Also, there might have been donuts.)

Oh, why does Larry have to be so short?! He's also ugly, but I can handle ugly. I have dated plenty of men who were ugly-sexy. But ugly and short?? I think that is Mother Nature's way of saying "this ugly %$#er should not reproduce under any circumstances." How can I defy Mother Nature? It's not my fault that Evolution wants me to date really hot men with expensive cars.

Hello, Larry.

This is Larry, a Pleiospilos nelii:

We met on match.com and have been emailing A LOT the past couple of days. I think I like him!!! (Miles thinks he looks like Yoda).

Larry is a catch. He's a doctor, loves kids, and has a golden retriever. He has a black belt in karate and a sense of adventure (he likes trying new restaurants!) I don't think there is anything wrong with him.

Well. Actually.

I think Larry might be just a little on the short side. On his profile, in the space where you type your height, he wrote "Perfect." And look at his profile photo. With that weird angle, it impossible to tell if he is tall or midget. But, it does make him look damn sexy in that mysterious stranger sort of way.

Even if Larry is short, I don't care! I am not superficial and love does not care about height. We are meeting for drinks tomorrow after work. FINGERS CROSSED!!!

The best pie in the world is made at Pie 'n Burger in Pasadena, California. Don't actually go to Pie 'n Burger for a meal. This place is all about the pie. I have been on a Rhubarb kick the past couple of times I went - partly because the Rhubarb pie is so yummy, but mainly because I like to say the word "rhubarb." Tonight, I ordered Rhubarb again but then, on a whim, I changed my order to Boysenberry.

I think I experienced a moment of divine intervention.


Just look at this slice of pie. That is the face of God.

I was overwhelmed by the pie's tastiness. I wish I was a food critic and had the words to describe the way this slice of pie made me want to die and rejoice at the same time. For a moment, I was worried that I was too full and would not be able to savor every tasty morsel.

But I did.

Sweet & Sassy Cactus Seeks Hot And Wealthy Soulmate.

HELP! I am preparing my profile for match.com. With nearly 15 million members, I am confident I can find my soulmate on match.com. But... I'm going to need a really hot profile photo. Even though I can't date all of the men online, I certainly want everyone to appreciate how unbelievably sexy I am.

Miles took 435 photos of me this weekend, and we have finally narrowed it down to 3 profile photo contenders.

Contestant No. 1: I think I look like the cactus-next-door in the photo. Maybe it's not sexy enough??



Contestant No. 2: I think I look very mysterious and alluring here. Like Sharon Stone.

Contestant No. 3: I hate this photo, but Miles thinks it makes me look like "a magical princess sex goddess." Which does sound kind of good.

Thoughts? Shit, I don't think any of these photos are going to work. Maybe we need to have a photo shoot at the beach. I always look good when the wind is blowing through my spikes.

And I still love bubble baths.

I was looking for a good photo to use for my match.com profile (I want a profile photo that screams "sassy but sweet") and I found some old childhood photos. I scanned in one of my favorites. It must have been taken in 1984 or 1985. Aren't I cute?? I'm getting ready to take my bath, and I've messed up my hair with the bubbles.


I burned all the photos from the 1990s. Enough said.

Namaste.

Good news! I have decided to become a yoga instructor. I already go to yoga class at least once a month. So, why should I spend $15 per class when I could be paid to teach the classes? And, if the energy feels right, I might also be willing to act as a Spiritual Advisor and/or Life Coach for my students.

Let me show you my favorite yoga poses. These poses are the cornerstone of a rewarding yoga practice.

1. Tadasana (Mountain pose). I like to think about birds when I do this pose.

2. Salamba Sirsasana (headstand). The inversion brings an intoxicating supply of blood to the brain cells!

3. Savasana (relaxation pose). It may look like I am just laying on the floor, but this is a very vigorous and challenging pose.

New Retirement Plan.

I concocted a plan to increase my revenue so I can retire by age 40: the California lottery! I do not like the pressure of picking the numbers for the lottery-lottery, but I (heart) Lottery Scratchers.

I decided to play 10x The Money. The odds of winning any prize are 1:4:48. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds pretty good.



After my first few scratches, I was feeling STRONG. My winning numbers were 28 and 16. (God, I wish I was still 28). Early Retirement, here I come!



I didn't win.

Please go away now.

Om My Ass.

I have what some would describe as a Type A personality. I'm sick of feeling stressed every morning before I even start my commute, so I decided to try meditating every morning for ten minutes.



Holy crap, meditation is hard! I sat down in a comfortable but alert position next to an inspiring statue that is either the Buddha or Gandhi. Then, I let my mind empty and started to chant, "Ommmm, Ommmm, Ommmm." It seemed easy for about 19 seconds. My mind was a blank slate. But then, I couldn't stop thinking - "What am I going to wear to work today? Maybe that cute new jacket I got at Nordstroms this weekend. I feel bloated. It's cold. I really like ketchup."

I tried lighting candles and focusing on the flames. But I got worried that a breeze would knock over one of the candles and set the table on fire.

I'll try meditating again tomorrow. Maybe it gets easier with practice?

iPhone.

Miles wants an iPhone.

It is all he talks about. iPhone, iPhone, iPhone. We were at a party on Saturday night, and Miles spent like two hours drooling over someone's iPhone. There was this absolutely gorgeous Ancistrocactus megarhizus at the party that I was DESPERATE to meet (perfect spikes; the most exquisite shade of green) but my wingman could not tear himself away from the iPhone for three lousy minutes.

Instead of meeting the Cactus of My Dreams, I got cornered by the most mundane Aztekium ritteri who would not stop talking about hedge funds.

The only person who got any action on Saturday night was Miles, and that's just because he hugged the friggin' iPhone.

#$%&!!!

Miles did this to me:

I do not work on Fridays. Usually, I devote Fridays to sleeping and watching t.v. But, since I am such a good friend, I agreed to help Miles tweak his resume today and draft some cover letters. We decided Miles needs to think outside the box if he is going to find employment in this economy. Miles thought it would be cool to work at Disneyland because then at least we might get some discounts on the park admission. The Matterhorn would probably be the best fit for Miles because it involves snow; but Miles is probably not scary enough to be a yeti. He is not exotic enough for the jungle boat ride, and the teacups are out because of his motion sickness.

What about the Pirates of the Carribean? Most of the pirates wear vests, and Miles has a vest. Some of the pirates are wearing hats and scarves - Miles is obsessed with his hat and scarf! It seems like a perfect fit. Miles got really excited with this job idea and started practicing his pirate moves. He started swiping his pen around in the air like a pirate sword and then -

$%^&*#&@(#&*.

I did not faint, but I think I need to see a plastic surgeon.