I'm Ready To Get Laid.

I can't believe it, I'm so excited I could hyperventilate - I'm going to start dating again! I'm going to flirt, be shameless, and have a lot of meaningless sex.

But not yet. Everything needs to be perfect - my hair, my skin, my waistline. This weekend, I am going to subject myself to every manner of beauty treatment available in Los Angeles County. Waxings, exfoliations and chemical peels? Bring. it. on.

Here is a recent photo of me:

I look disgusting - fat, hairy and pale. I am a fat, ugly beast and no one - not even the creepy guy who plays Second Life for 18 hours a day - wants to have sex with me.

Would a butt lift be too extreme? Could I just get botox injections in my tush?

An Open Marriage? Really?

Today was an interesting day. No, that's an understatement. Today was quite possibly one of the 10 most interesting days of my life (and there is a lot of competition for that list!) I am digesting everything that happened. Rather than tell you about my day, it is easier to just provide you with a transcript of a conversation I had this morning with my husband:

Ralph: Good morning, Nutmeg.
Me: [silence, reading a magazine]
Ralph: Sweet Pea, I have an idea.
Me: [turning page in magazine]
Ralph: Maybe we should see a marriage counselor.
Me: [laughter]
Ralph: I'm serious!
Me: I know you are. [more laughter] That's why I'm laughing.
Ralph: We haven't had sex since our honeymoon. We never talk. You are always mean to me.
Me: That's because you revolt me. A marriage counselor is not going to change anything.
Ralph: Oh.
Me: [several minutes of silence. I hope that maybe Ralph has slipped into a coma.]
Ralph: Cinnamon?
Me: [damn, no coma.]
Ralph: What if we have an open marriage?
Me: What?
Ralph: An open marriage. Like, we are allowed to date other people and have extramar-
Me: I know what an open marriage is. Seriously? I can date? I can sleep with other men?
Ralph: Yes.
Me: And we're still married?
Ralph: Yes.
Me: And you'll pay the rent?
Ralph: Yes.
Me: And my credit card bills?
Ralph: Yes.
Me: Then we have ourselves a deal!

I Can't Sleep.

It's St. Patrick's Day and I should be happy, but instead I am depressed and unconsolable. Or am I "inconsolable"? Oh holy crap, I don't care, I just wish I could SLEEP. But no, all I can think about is the fact that it is St. Patrick's Day, the greatest drinking holiday in the world - except for maybe Cinco de Mayo (oh and 4th of July (and also Halloween)) - but anyway, St. Patrick's Day is definitely one of the top 5 Drinking Holidays, but I need to stay sober. Because these days, there is no upside to intoxication. I might get blasted, and accidentally have sex with my loathsome husband. Or, even worse, I might get blasted, and my husband will just watch t.v., and my self-esteem cannot handle that sort of rejection.

I am not feeling very rational. I am normally very levelheaded and reasonable, but now I am just stressed stressed stressed and apparently I am never going to fall. a. sleep. I'M FALLING APART!!! Should I wear green tomorrow? If I wear green, I might get carried away by the spirit of St. Paddy's Day and start drinking. But if I don't wear green, people will think I am one of those depressed married people who just watch Wheel of Fortune instead of going out drinking to celebrate one of the Top 5 Drinking Holidays (in America at least, I'm sure Italy and France have different exciting exotic drinking holidays).

I can't keep doing this. By "this" I mean "this awful crap b.s. marriage that is sucking all the joy out of my life and have I mentioned that we didn't even have a wedding and I didn't get to be the center of attention and I am wasting the best years of my life sharing a bed with a man with frightening halitosis and who cannot take a hint to save his life and oh my god if he tries to hold my hand one more time I'm going to cut off his balls."

Ok, so this whole "having insomnia and hyperventilating at 3:30 a.m." thing sucks but on the uspide, I will be too exhausted to do anything more than watch Wheel of Fortune tomorrow.

You know, it might be time for a change. Maybe I've been married long enough.

Happiest Place on Earth My Ass

I know you are all eager to learn about my March giveaway to celebrate my blog's one month anniversary. And, frankly, I think you are all a bit pathetic. Don't you have lives? Or at least t.v. shows that you like to watch? Anyway, I have been too busy to organize the gift for the giveaway, but I promise it will happen sometime in March (or June at the very latest).

On to more interesting news: last Friday, I went to Disneyland with some friends. I hate hate hate Disneyland and would ordinarily have refused to go. But, my husband Ralph loves Disneyland. And he had to go to work. So, I went and tortured him with updates throughout the day. (Suck it, Ralph).

Here is a photo of me having lunch at the godforsaken dining area by Splash Mountain. This dining area is the first reason why I hate Disneyland. We went to Disneyland for a field trip when I was in the 8th grade. I was really excited for the trip because it meant I got to spend a lot of time holding hands with my boyfriend Craig and making all my girlfriends jealous. We went on the Haunted Mansion and totally kissed like 5 times. But then at lunch, in front of all my friends, Craig dumped me. He said I was a bad kisser and everyone laughed at me.

I was humiliated. I spent the rest of the day gorging myself on junk food to keep myself from crying. Churros, funnel cake, etc. etc. Then we went on Small World because we thought it would be cool in a lame retro sort of way. This is the second reason why I hate Disneyland. I was flirting with Danny, who was a really good volleyball player, and I thought I had recovered my dignity...

And I threw up. On Small World. The boat floats along at about 0.3 miles an hour - a newborn infant could ride this thing - but I, Wendy the Cactus, threw up. I can't talk about this wretched experience anymore. I'll show you the rest of my Disneyland photos later (assuming my self-esteem can handle it).

One Year Anniversary

Holy crap, my blog is celebrating its One Year Anniversary this month. Can you imagine anything more depressing? I can't. I have been blogging for an entire year, and I'm not famous. I'm not even infamous.

But, this blog is the longest monogamous relationship I have ever had in my life. I don't cheat on my blog, and it does not cheat on me. And that sure as hell is something. So let's celebrate! I am going to give something away to one of my lucky readers. Please remember that you are all lucky because you have the opportunity to read this blog. But, one of you will be exceptionally lucky because I am going to give you a present. I don't know what the present is yet, but it will be really cool like a llama or some nail polish. Stay tuned...

Oscars Schmaschars

I am officially boycotting the 2010 Academy Awards. I cannot support an Academy that nominates the following "actresses" for the Best Actress statue:

• Sanda Bullock
• Helen Mirren
• Carey Mullig-who?
• Gabourey Don't Know Her
• Meryl Streep

And worse, I heard that Sandra Bullock is favored to win the award. Seriously? Are you telling me that I live in a world where Sandra Can't Act Bullock is allowed to win the academy award for Best Actress? At least it's not Hilary ManFace Swank, but still. I am a better actress than Sandra Bullock. Every day, I wake up and I face the world with a happy face even though I am enduring quite possibly the Worst Marriage In The History Of Marriage. I am an amazing actress, and have I ever been nominated for an Academy Award? Of course not. The Academy just doesn't recognize true genius.

And the other nominees are not much better than Sandra. What about Paris Hilton? Kim Kardashian? Britney Spears?

I am officially boycotting the Oscars until the Academy nominates some true talent in the Best Actress category. Women who are really rich, famous, wear expensive yet trashy clothes and make really bad dating choices.

Here Comes the Bride...

Look at what a beautiful bride I would be! My veil is so shimmery AND it makes my butt look really cute.

I bought this veil about 5 years ago when I was dating a really hot guy named Chip. After our first date, I knew that Chip was the hottest man I would ever date, so I immediately invested in this bridal veil. Look, I was just being realistic. I know I am gorgeous, talented and sexy, and most men would sell their souls to just to have coffee with me. But you see, I'm only an A. I was only in the prom court, I wasn't actually the prom queen. But Chip, he's an A+. He was the Prom King at his high school AND seven other high schools in the county.

I wanted to marry Chip and the only way to accomplish that was through deceit, fraud and trickery. I knew I was going to have to use the dating equivalent of black magic to trick Chip into proposing; and if he proposed, I'd have about three weeks to pull off the wedding before he realized that he should actually marry Charlize Theron.


So that's why I bought the veil. I had to be ready JUST IN CASE. Once I had the veil in my closet, I was able to relax and enjoy our second and third dates. After our third date, Chip never called again BUT I STILL HAVE THE VEIL. You know why? Because I'm an optimist. Even though I'm married to Ralph and my soul dies a little every time he tries to hold my hand in public, I still believe in happily ever after. Or, at least, I'm going to have a really expensive wedding someday and get to be the center of attention and everyone will think my life is perfect.

Meditations and Reflections

I live in Los Angeles where it is important to be hip, trendy and fashionable if you want to have a happy life. You need to follow the example set by beautiful celebrities. Trust me, they are all obviously very happy and content because they are rich and famous.

One thing the celebrities do is dabble in religion, meditation and spirituality. Since marrying Ralph, I have neglected my spirituality. I don't know what color my energy is. I do not drink green tea. I have not visited an ashram. I might have lit a scented candle a few months ago, but it was because the apartment reeked from the smell of Ralph's farts.

In Los Angeles, it is not enough to be gorgeous, witty and charming. I also have to be spiritual - in a cool, Madonna sort of way. So yesterday, I found a scenic spot and meditated. I read somewhere (probably People magazine) that it helps to chant a soothing mantra while you meditate. So I sat next to this pond quietly and silently repeated the word "Bloomingdales" about 600 times. It really worked! I thought about shoes, expensive handbags, and clothesclothesclothes. After about 10 minutes of meditating, I felt so refreshed and whole. I must have reconnected with my inner chakra or something.