Wendy the Cactus

This Is Goodbye (For Now)

2011-09-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Beloved Readers,

This is Wendy’s friend Courtney, aka the Woman Behind the Curtain. I have some terrible news: Wendy is happy.

Yes, I know, I know. I am just as stunned as you are. Wendy met a nice cactus named Walter and it looks like he’s The One. (Cue the Hallelujah chorus). Our favorite self-absorbed cactus actually managed to fall in love. Walter is smart, funny and handsome. And more importantly, he is the perfect match for Wendy and he makes her want to be the best cactus she can possibly me (which is not necessarily saying much).

This is bittersweet for me to say, but since Wendy is so happy, she has decided to give up blogging… for now. I have a feeling she will return eventually.

In the meantime, since Wendy has abandoned us for true love, I am blogging elsewhere at The Cranky Pumpkin (thecrankypumpkin.blogspot.com).

Love,

Courtney, the Woman Behind the Curtain

Wendy vs. The Cake: Part 3 (The Final Shameful Chapter)

2011-06-03T11:21:00.000-07:00

To recap, even though I have been on a strict diet, I decided it would be a good idea to bake a cake. I had been craving cake and reasoned I could overcome my cravings by baking. But then, I frosted the cake, and chocolate frosting is my kryptonite, and then the cake called me a Fat Bitch and said I would die alone while wearing Old Navy jeans. I blacked out and went bat shit crazy on the cake. I am not proud of what happened.

I burrowed into the cake like a rabid meerkat.

It was not my finest hour.

For a moment, I regained my self-control. I thought everything was going to be okay.

But the smell of chocolate frosting was too intoxicating and even though I was on the verge of exploding, I dove back for more cake. The feeding frenzy was not yet over.

Finally, I passed out. Look at me. I'm like a beached whale in a bakery.

I feel ashamed and fat. Very, very fat.

Wendy vs. The Cake, Part 2

2011-06-02T14:33:00.000-07:00

Since I had been craving cake all week, I thought it would be a good idea to bake a cake. I wasn't actually going to eat the cake, ok? I just thought it would be therapeutic to go through the motions of baking a cake. Then, I would throw it out and feel stronger than ever.

Except I forgot about my chocolate frosting problem. It's my kryptonite.

The cake called out my name. Literally.

I was powerless before the chocolate frosting. I listened, spellbound, to the cake:

Look, I can handle being called a fat bitch, and I can even handle being told I will die alone. But there is absolutely no way I would ever be caught dead in a pair of Old Navy jeans.

This is when I lost control and blacked out.

Wendy vs. The Cake: Part One

2011-06-01T18:09:00.000-07:00

I have been tormented by a box of cake mix for the past week. I sought guidance from my guru. He told me to stop being so shallow.

I have been following a very strict diet so I can be as gorgeous and sexually desirable as possible. A yellow cake with chocolate frosting is NOT part of my diet. But baking a yellow cake with chocolate frosting? That's okay!

I preheated the oven to 350 degrees...

I gathered all the ingredients...

and mixed everything together. I could feel myself growing stronger...

I slowly poured the batter into the cake pans...

I have been obsessing about this cake for over a week. I have dreamed about its taste, its smell, its texture... But you know what? Baking a cake is just as satisfying as eating a cake.

I am amazing. I baked a cake and did not even taste the batter. I did not even want to taste the batter! I am a pillar of strength and inspiration.

Finally, I frosted the cake.

And then... all hell broke loose. In hindsight, I probably should have skipped the last step. We all have lines that we should not cross, and my line is apparently made from chocolate frosting.

My therapist says I should blog about what happened after I frosted the cake. But I'm not ready to return to that dark, dark place.

Please go away now.

Where the Eff Did This Come From?

2011-05-19T18:01:00.000-07:00

I went to the grocery story to stock up on cabbage. I am on a Cabbage Cleanse. The only thing I am allowed to eat is cabbage. I really do not want to talk about it because the word "cabbage" makes me throw up in my mouth and weep uncontrollably.

When I got home, I found the devil hiding in my shopping bag:

Some people think the Pillsbury Doughboy is cute and friendly, but I know better. The Pillsbury Doughboy is one of Satan's minions. Just look at that evil smile and those vacant eyes, and oh, that diabolical laugh when you poke his adorable tummy... He's insane! The Pillsbury Doughboy was sent to earth to torment dieters and lure them into temptation. This box of Moist Supreme Yellow Cake Mix is my spiritual trial.

But there is more. The Pillsbury Doughboy is a clever bastard. The cake mix is evil, but the chocolate icing? I would never have put that in my shopping cart. Well done, Pillsbury Doughboy, well done.

The Pillsbury Doughboy thinks I am weak and will devour the chocolate icing. But no. I have incredible will power. I am going to put the cake mix and icing in my cupboards. I will gaze longingly at them and whisper sweet nothings to them while I stew my cabbage, but I will not eat them. The devil is going to have to try harder if he wants to break this dieter's spirit.

Altoids. Joy.

2011-05-17T15:49:00.000-07:00

I know so many women who accidentally lose weight - oh I was so busy working/studying, that I forgot to eat; I was so depressed, I didn't want to eat; I was so happy, I just spent my days skipping through fields and never had time to eat.

I have never had this sort of problem. I am capable of eating and gaining weight under any and all circumstances. But last November, I got divorced and decided it was time to get skinny and gorgeous. I stopped eating tasty and delicious foods. Instead, I have just been eating tasteless things like raw cauliflower and sprouts.

One problem: I miss flavor. Yesterday, I found a stick of butter in the fridge and last night, I had some very naughty dreams. Jenny Craig would gasp with horror if she knew about my dreams.

Now, all I want to do is eat butter. I'd love to have some butter that has been mixed up with some chocolate and flour and sugar and transformed into a spectacular dessert. But I'm desperate. I'll just eat a stick of raw butter. I don't even need a piece of toast.

But I don't want to undo all my hard work. If I eat butter, I will gain back all my weight and then my girlfriends will make fun of me behind my back. So, in order to stay on my diet, I am letting myself have a special treat: altoids!

Three altoids = 10 calories. I have been very good today. I have only eaten 97 altoids. If I close my eyes and think about chocolate cake, it almost feels like I am eating something delicious.

I hate my life.

I Want To Do Unholy Things With This Butter

2011-05-16T16:25:00.000-07:00

When I first joined my ultra-hip ashram, I cleared out all the junk food from my house. I think a lot of ashrams are about enlightenment and meditating, but this is Los Angeles, and in Los Angeles, it is very important to be as hot and desirable as possible. I joined my ashram because my guru has helped a lot of movie stars lose weight.

I restocked my fridge with cabbage, carrot sticks and cottage cheese. When I have a craving for something that tastes good, it's ok - there is nothing good to eat in the house. Once, I thought I would die if I did not have a piece of chocolate, so I flushed my car keys down the toilet. (My building's manager was SO pissed at me. He's so unreasonable).

This morning, though, I found a stick of butter lurking behind a rotting eggplant. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life? I have been fantasizing about the butter all day. Very shameful fantasies.

I know I should throw out the butter. I will. Later. Or maybe I'll just rub it all over my body so I can smell the butter wherever I go.

Green Tea Tastes Like Cat Pee

2011-05-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

I have been following a strict diet that my guru recommended for the past several months. It has been very effective. I have lost a lot of weight and have a slamming hot body. But, I really miss eating things that taste good. I mostly eat cabbage and drink a lot of green tea.

Oh look, it's Sunday afternoon AND I GET TO HAVE ANOTHER CUP OF GREEN TEA OH PLEASE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY NOW.

Oh look at the green tea steeping. Oh I am so excited to have this cup of green tea. It is going to make me feel so enlightened. I am so grateful for my guru and his wisdom. OH MY GOD I WOULD GIVE UP FIVE YEARS OF MY LIFE FOR A DIET COKE OR A CUP OF COFFEE OH SWEET BEAUTIFUL COFFEE ELIXIR OF THE GODS.

Oh look, ya-ay, the green tea is ready to drink now. Mmm, it smells like cat pee. Really, I do not miss coffee or coke. Who needs soda? I WILL TRADE MY ETERNAL SOUL FOR A SINGLE SIP OF DIET COKE. OH HELL I'LL TRADE MY ETERNAL SOUL FOR A SIP OF DIET RITE OR THAT CRAPPY GENERIC BRAND OF COLA THEY SELL AT COSTCO.

I miss flavor.

How to Read My Blog

2011-05-10T16:45:00.000-07:00

I do not have time to update this blog every day. I have lots of important things to do, e.g. picking my signature nail polish shade.

But, even though I do not have time to blog daily, I still recommend that my readers visit my blog at least once a day. Actually, you should probably read my blog at least two or three times a day in order to soak up as much Wendy-ness as possible. Just pore over the archives whenever you are feeling sad or lonely. My blog is inspirational.

I need more nail polish. These colors are so February 2011.

Probiotics: The Secret to a Slamming Hot Body

2011-04-29T16:39:00.000-07:00

My friend Lucy is the biggest bitch in the world, but she hosts fabulous parties. I pretend to like her because I love going to her parties, but I secretly hate her because she has a slamming hot body. During her last party, I snooped through her medicine cabinet to see if I could discover any beauty secrets. Guess what I found? Like eight bottles of probiotics.

Probiotics have always creeped me out. I mean, why would I willingly ingest something that allegedlly has "a minimum of 2 billion live, active L. acidophilus DDS-1 super strain..." The translation for that is "expensive pond scum for health nuts."

But, if Lucy takes probiotics, then I need to take probiotics. I went to Wholefoods and bought the most expensive bottle of probiotics. Now that I am taking probiotics, I can probably pig out and stop exercising and I'll still have a slamming hot body.

Investigative Reading

2011-04-28T12:05:00.000-07:00

I do not understand men. I am a beautiful, sexy, well-adjusted and emotionally mature woman ... and yet, I am single. Men should be following me around like a pack of wild dogs, just to get a whiff of my pheromones. I need to know more about the Male Mind so I can find my wealthy, handsome soul mate and have an expensive wedding.

I bought a copy of Men's Health to do some investigative reading. This is obviously a reputable resource. One of the cover articles is "Look You Best Now!" and appearances are the most important thing.

Oh. Oh my. This is an interesting ad. Why aren't there ads like this in women's magazines?

Well, hello! My name is Wendy. You are so beautiful.

Oh gentle Jesus.

I might need to subscribe to Men's Health. For the articles, of course.

I Am More Interesting Than The Royal Wedding

2011-04-27T12:03:00.000-07:00

I tried reading about the upcoming royal wedding but it is just the most boring thing ever. When I look at a photo of Prince William, my soul dies a little. That's Prince Charming??? You've got to be kidding me.

I have several sources close to the royal family, and they have all advised me the wedding is going to be dreadfully dull. I am boycotting any coverage about the wedding, and I am certainly not going to buy any commemorative china.

Rather than read about the nuptials of Prince Going Bald and Kate Making A Big Mistake, I just spent some extra time this morning gazing at myself in the mirror.

I love looking at myself in the mirror. I could do it all day. I am just so much more interesting than politics, royal weddings, natural disasters and even Oprah. Yes, I went there: I am more interesting than Oprah.

Ugh - Slow Internet

2011-04-22T13:20:00.000-07:00

My internet connection is being cranky and slow today. It is such a diva. I suppose I could post something without a photo, but what is the point of that? I know I am charming and witty, and I know my readers want to know every detail about my existence. But I am also the World's Most Gorgeous and Sexually Attractive Cactus. I consider it my responsibility - no, my moral obligation - to post as many photos of myself on this blog. I promise, I will post tons of photos as soon as my diva internet connection behaves!

Temptation, Thy Name Is Peeps!

2011-04-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had an unfortunate encouter with a Peeps. I have been adhering to a strict diet of green tea and water this week because my guru recommended a Toxins Cleanse. I have felt amazing - my skin is glowing, I have tons of energy, and I have lost weight. But then, I encountered the devil in the guise of a Peeps. I tried to resist temptation, but...

Please go away now.

Easter Candy! Or, My Cadbury Obsession

2011-04-20T11:24:00.000-07:00

Most people assume that Halloween is the best holiday for candy. Fools! Halloween is about miniature packages of the candy you can buy year round. Who wants that? I do not need to go trick-or-treating for miniature Snickers that might be laced with arsenic. There is also candy corn, but candy corn tastes like stale sugar. I always feel obligated to eat one candy corn to honor the season, and then that one candy corn triggers a Massive Candy Corn Binge and afterwards, I feel nothing but deep shame and self-loathing.

Readers, forget Halloween. Easter is the King of Candy Holidays. Jelly beans! Peeps! Chocolate bunnies!

And of course, there is the greatest Easter candy of all: Cadbury Creme Eggs.

Excuse me, I get very emotional when I talk about Cadbury Creme Eggs. Since I joined an ashram and have embraced a yogic lifestyle, I am only supposed to eat natural foods. I asked my guru if I could celebrate Easter with a Cadbury Creme Egg. He said "No." I went home and wept with frustration. I decided I deserve one Cadbury Creme Egg. It might delay my Cosmic Enlightment by two or three weeks, but that is a small price to pay for the hard chocolate shell and the fondant yolk.

I have been hoarding my Cadbury Creme Egg since February. Isn't it glorious? Sometimes, I unwrap the foil and sniff the chocolate. It is intoxicating. I cannot wait to eat my Cadbury Creme Egg, but not yet.... not yet.

I Got An iPhone!

2011-04-19T14:09:00.000-07:00

I am an incredibly sexy cactus. Just look at me: I ooze sex appeal. But, I am always looking for new ways to increase my desirability. That is why I recently invested in an iPhone.

How did I ever manage to meet men with my crappy boring regular cellphone? If you saw me at a bar texting with this abomination, would you ask me for my digits? Of course not! No one wants to date a woman with an outdated cell phone.

But look at me now - hallelujah! Just look at how the iPhone accentuates my curves.

The iPhone enhances my seductive powers. The way I caress the screen as I play Angry Birds ... it just drives the men wild!

I Am Not A "Regular" Woman!

2011-03-27T11:10:00.000-07:00

I used to just take taxis everywhere because it made me feel like a character on Sex and the City. (I think of myself as a Carrie-Samantha-Charlotte hybrid. Once, several years ago, I had a Miranda Morning. It was unsettling).

But then I saw a photograph of Britney Spears driving a car and I had an epiphany: I need a car.

I love my car. I drive it everywhere. But holy crap, when did gas get so expensive!?

My mom suggested I just fill up with Regular Gas. As if! I am not regular, and I would rather die than use regular gasoline. My car gets the most expensive fuel available, end of discussion.

Open Letter to My Potential Corporate Sponsors

2011-03-26T11:09:00.001-07:00

I am willing to sell out.

Traffic. SIGH.

2011-03-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

I have a very busy schedule: yoga classes; meditation at the ashram; spa visits; and shopping at the mall. I do not have time for traffic! Sometimes, between yoga classes and shopping for cute outfits to wear to my yoga classes, I feel like I am just moments away from a total nervous breakdown. I just have so many obligations to juggle.

I do not know how I would cope if I ever had to get to job and commute to an office [shudder] and deal with the Los Angeles morning commute.

I Miss Coffee. A Lot.

2011-03-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

Why does everyone assume I had plastic surgery? Readers, please, my parents gave me a nose job for my 16th birthday and that is it. I did not get any implants or have liposuction. This is just me, looking fabulous, now that I have embraced a healthier lifestyle. I practice yoga, I drink green tea and I meditate three times a day. I only eat and drink health foods. I do not poison my body with things like chocolate or alcohol.

My guru also says that caffeine is a toxin that must be avoided on the path to spiritual enlightenment.

Sometimes, I really hate my guru.

This morning, I went to breakfast. I ordered a cup of coffee. Then, I just sat and gazed at the sweet, beautiful elixer. I let the heavenly smell slowly waft towards me. I almost had a profoundly spiritual moment.

Then I drank the entire cup of coffee in one gulp and burnt the back of my tongue.

The Indignity of Being Single

2011-03-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

When I have to go to the hardware store, I feel so deeply, painfully ashamed of myself. Nothing screams "pathetic lonely spinster" like a woman roaming the aisles of a hardware store alone.

A woman does not belong in a hardware store unless she is escorted by a big, strong man who is going to take her shoe shopping just after they pick up a triple ply bunt.

I think I can handle being single if I can just avoid ever having to go to a hardware store again.

Next time, I will just pay a homeless man to go into the store with me. Then I will not feel quite so self-conscious.

I Just Wish I Was Ordinary.

2011-03-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I wish I was ordinary. Being special is EXHAUSTING.

I am the most charismatic person I know and you know something? Charisma takes a lot of work. I cannot spare any extra energy for things like Daylight Savings Time. My talent is too important for things like "time changes" and "getting out of bed on time."

I AM GORGEOUS

2011-03-13T08:15:00.000-07:00

Last September, I was not looking so good. Some would say I looked "rough" or maybe even "haggard." So I decided it was time to make some changes. I substituted green tea for vodka, carrot sticks for donuts, and yoga for self-destructive behavior. I did NOT have plastic surgery, okay? I am here to silence all of the haters who have suggested I went under the knife in order to achieve my current state of perfection and gorgeousosity. I did not get any implants, injections or nips and tucks.

Okay. There might have been a little botox. But this is L.A. and that is it, I swear.

As you might recall, this was me, the 2010 version:

And, ta da! The new and improved, lightly Botoxed Wendy:

I don't think I look that different. It's very subtle and tasteful. I attribute my improved appearance entirely to the green tea.

Wendy the Bride

2010-09-27T20:07:00.000-07:00

I started planning my wedding before I could walk. I remember laying in my crib, trying to decide on the perfect color scheme. I could never decide between pink-yellow and fuschia-yellow. My parents were concerned that I had health issues or was just really stupid because I was really slow to do boring baby things like crawl and talk, but that's just because I was so fixated on planning my dream wedding.

Even though I am still searching for Mr. Right, I subscribe to all the bridal magazines and pore over every page.

I like this ad because it suggests wearing three dresses on your wedding day - excellent idea! The entire day is about being the center of attention, and some costume changes will make sure everyone keeps their focus on the bride.

Is it too early to register? I know traditionalists wait until after the engagement, or at least until after meeting The One, but is it ever too early to pick a china pattern?

My Pink Boa Resolution - Week One Update

2010-09-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, so it's been a week since I resolved to wear my pink boa non-stop until I find the love of my life (or, alternatively, a very wealthy and easily manipulated man who wants to marry me). Honestly, I'm surprised that a week has passed and I'm still single. I promise, I have been wearing this damn boa 24/7.

I wear it while reading to expand my mind:

While contemplating my fresh organic selections from the farmers market in order to decide what I will cook for the orphanage and the homeless shelter:

While listening on the phone to a friend who is going through a challenging spot and needs some support and compassion:

And of course, while getting two or three hours of beauty rest (give or take eleven or twelve hours, on the average day. Hey, I'm very beautiful, ergo lips loquitor, I need more beauty sleep than the rest of you schlubs):

The Most Amazing Boardgame in the History of the World.

2010-09-19T17:02:00.000-07:00

This is my favorite boardgame in the entire world: Careers for Girls. In my life, it has been a steady source of inspiration and motivation. When I was in junior high school, my friends insisted on destroying my edition of Careers for Girls in a ritual burning because they claimed it was sexist and oppressive. I was devastated but could not stand up to the peer pressure. If you call Central Casting and ask them for "Woman Who Can Never Resist Peer Pressure," they will definitely send you my resume.

But I recently acquired a new copy of the game from eBay! I am so so so incredibly ecstatic. I mean, would you look at this game? It's the "Fame, Fortune and Happiness Game." It's been awhile, but what I remember is that when the game starts, you allocate 60 points between fame, fortune and happiness, however you want. You could, theoretically, allocate 20 points to each. I always allocated 60 points to fame. Then, you go around the board trying to gather your points and the first one to 60 wins.

During the course of the game, you can aspire to several important carees: Super Mom; School Teacher; Rock Star; Animal Doctor; College; or Fashion Designer. I love how this game recognizes that women do not want to be lawyers or accountants or politicians.

Then you go around the board and you have to do things to collect your points. Like, if you are aspiring to be a Super Mom, then you need to "Tell us the names of your 8 children" and then you get 8 happiness points. Or, under the animal doctor category, you have to "Tell us about your dream horse." One of my favorite spots is under fashion designer: "Pretend to model your new swimsuit design." But under college, you get to "date with upper-classman" OR "describe your dreamy teacher." And if you are a school teacher, you might have to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, which is super hard (but you get 16 happiness points for that one).

You also draw Experience Cards throughout the game like this one: Send any opponent to Unemployment. I cannot even begin to emphasize the important lessons that young women can learn from this game. Like, if you have a job someday at an office, and there's a cute guy that your are totally crushing on, but there's this hot secretary who wears three inch heels and tight sweaters every day, you might have to scheme and Send that Bitch to Unemployment just so you can have a monopoly on your crush. (Speaking of Monopoly - that might be the worst game ever. Too many numbers. And that little man is so creepy).

Wendy the Movie Star

2010-09-19T16:38:00.001-07:00

People always come up to me on the street and ask, "Excuse me, are you a Movie Star??" I tell them, "No, acting doesn't interest me," and then they gasp with horror and say, "Oh, come on! You are depriving the world of a tremendous talent!"

I've always thought that it would be a waste to use my star power on Hollywood, but my pink boa has me reconsidering. I did a "test shoot" this weekend and am thinking about sending it to a few agents. I'm considering my options.

I must admit I hesitated to post this video here. I'm concerned some maniac will post it on youtube, and it will go viral, and people will think I'm just a run-of-the-mill attention whore. But I'm prepared to live with that risk.

A Pink Boa & A Resolution

2010-09-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

I have been having a run of bad luck - divorce . . . heartbreak . . . I accidentally got ugly.

But I now own a gorgeous pink boa and everything has changed.

I feel sexy.
Mysterious. Dangerous.

Glamorous. UNSTOPPABLE!!!

That's it. I'm declaring an early New Years Resolution: I'm not taking this pink boa off until I meet the man of my dreams. Which, I can tell you, will probably be in two or three days, tops. I have always exuded tons of sex appeal, but with this pink boa, I am officially irresistible. This pink boa should probably be illegal. I mean, seriously, would you look at me?

I Will Be Famous.

2010-09-15T20:21:00.000-07:00

The most important thing in life is not beauty, money, or sex appeal - it's Fame. The only people who are truly, sincerely happy are the famous people. I know this because I am generally a miserable wretched; I am (sigh) not famous; BUT I am confident that I will be happy when I am famous. Q.E.D.

After a lot of thought and deep reflection, I decided that I need an Action Plan For Becoming Very Famous And Happy. I spent the entire day thinking about my Action Plan For Becoming Very Famous And Happy and realized there are really only two critical steps:

Step One: Decide how I want to become famous (e.g. celebrity chef vs. sex symbol).
Step Two: Become famous.

This is going to be a total cake walk. It's almost too easy.

I Hate Wikipedia.

2010-09-15T20:10:00.000-07:00

I recently noticed an error in the article regarding cacti on Wikipedia - namely, the article forgot to mention me. I really don't know how something so egregious could happen, but I was feeling generous yesterday and updated the article. myself (even though I was supposed to be using that time to shop online for my new fall wardrobe). What can I say - I strongly believe in the free flow of accurate and timely information on the internet.

When I woke up this morning, I saw my correction had been deleted.

So apparently there is some uber-dumbass constantly monitoring the Wikipedia article about cacti. I'm sorry, but how pathetic do you have to be to devote your life to "protecting the integrity" of the cacti entry on Wikipedia?

Some day, I will be famous, and then the ass clowns at Wikipedia will dedicate an entire entry to just me, Wendy the Cactus.

p.s. one of my loyal servant-fans saved a screenshot of the accurate Wikipedia cactus entry, that includes a reference to my glorious self. If you would like to see it, just shoot me an email. I can't be bothered to upload it here. I have way more important ways to waste my time.

p.p.s. I bought a new pink boa! It makes me look extra gorgeous. It really brings out my cheek bones. I'll post a photo soon, but not tonight. I might as well give my pathetic readers something to look forward to.

Wendy the Wikipedia Entry

2010-09-14T20:05:00.000-07:00

I understand that Wikipedia is this great online resource with tons of information. But, I discovered a horrible inaccuracy tonight. The Wikipedia entry for "cactus" did not refer to yours truly, Wendy the Cactus!

Well, you can rest assured, I swiftly corrected that problem.

I know the entire universe does not revolve around me (although it should), but I do expect some recognition, damnit. Check it out.

And We've Reached A New Low (Yet Again).

2010-09-12T18:38:00.000-07:00

This was one of those days where I had a choice.

Choice A: Wallow in my own misery; refuse to get dressed or bathe; mix myself a screwdriver and call it breakfast; despair over the fact that I will never be loved, will never marry a man with a large trust fund; and send drunken text messages at 10:15 a.m. to all of my ex-boyfriends.

Choice B: I could vow to make a change and take charge of my life; practice yoga; sip green tea; make an inspiration board; take a long walk at the beach; and tend to my inner flame.

I think we all know how I spent my day (hint: not Choice B).

Baby Steps

2010-09-09T17:46:00.000-07:00

Last night, I dreamed I was happy. I was engaged to a sexy French photographer named Pierre who liked to take nude portraits of me. We spent hours gazing into each others' eyes. We argued about who was more wonderful and he would read poetry to me while I took long lavender-scented bubble baths.

I woke up and for like 4 seconds, I was both awake AND happy. Then I remembered my life sucks and I started to cry hysterically. I think I'm improving. Ever since that Creepjerkpig broke my heart, I have woken up every morning, already sobbing. But today, the crying did not start until I was awake for 4 seconds. So, at this rate, I figure I might be only 50% miserable by the time I am in my 90s.

Shameful

2010-09-08T20:28:00.000-07:00

Today, I could not stop thinking about my donut binge. I mean seriously, would you look at me?

I am so deeply ashamed of myself. I am shameful. I spent the entire day thinking about what a fat stupid donut crazy loser I am ... except then I would just think about the donut part. And then I would think about how delicious donuts are, and I'd start thinking that maybe, if I was good, and just had a few pieces of lettuce for lunch, I could have one donut hole as a treat after dinner. But then I would remember what happened this weekend, and how I have no self control and how will a fabulous wealthy man every love me if I just inhale every donut I see... and then I would start to think about donuts, jelly donuts, glazed donuts, donuts with sprinkles. It's a vicious cycle.

Well, there's obviously only one solution to my donut obsession/spiral of shame. I'm going to have to get drunk.

Donuts.

2010-09-06T18:17:00.000-07:00

It's official: I do not have any self-control. I am missing the Self-Control Gene. This is a problem.

I decided this weekend that it's time to get my life back on track! So what if I had my heart broken? It's time to buy some new shoes, show off my hot body, and date lots of questionable but attractive men.

But first, I needed a small tiny little insignificant treat. Like a donut hole. Just one little taste of that heavenly fried dough and then I would be ready to get my life back on track.

I don't know what happened. One minute, I was asking the Donut Lady for one glazed donut hole... and the next minute, I was home with a sprinkled donut AND a chocolate cream donut.

I have no idea how these extra donuts got into the bag.

I remember taking the first bite of the sprinkled donut. And then I blacked out.

Please go away now.

2010-09-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that at some point during the last month, I deleted most of my digital photos. Um, awesome? I have no memory of doing this, so it must have happened during the vodka/ice cream stage. Why does heartbreak bring out my destructive side? And if I must spiral into a blackhole of destruction, why can't I destroy something like a box of Kleenex?

Granted, I had a lot of photos that needed to be purged - basically, any photos in which I looked fat, pimply, bloated, ugly, plain, obese, etc. etc. But no, in my insanity, I purged all the photos in which I look cute, pretty and gorgeous. WTF???

I did save this photo from last summer. Look at me. So relaxed, happy.

And this is what I look like now:

I honestly don't know what to say for myself. The good news is that I don't need a Halloween costume - I already look like a homeless zombie serial killer witch hag corpse.

Sigh.

2010-09-04T12:42:00.001-07:00

My life would be so much better if I was friends with Oprah. We could go shopping together in Dubai and throw elaborate dinner parties. I think it would also be really good for my self-esteem because Oprah is an even bigger yo-yo dieter than I am, so when Oprah is on the fat end of her weight spectrum, I would feel extra hot and sexy.

My life would be so much better if I didn't like food. If I looked at a piece of chocolate cake or a bowl of potato chips and thought, "Ew, gross. I'll just drink this glass of warm water."

My life would be so much better if I was famous and everyone paid attention to me. Then I'd get free things, like free soda at the movie theater and free towels and maybe even free shoes. I really like shoes.

These are just some of the things on my mind today.

I Know, I Know, I Know

2010-09-02T19:49:00.001-07:00

Yes, I know, it's been ages since I posted. What can I say? I am a horrible awful ugly malicious beast. I fell in love, and was too happy to bother with this blog. We went on long moonlight strolls, held hands, counted the stars. He kissed me softly and murmured sweet nothings into my ear. We made love for hours and hours until I begged for mercy.

And then he dumped me.

I went through Wendy's Eleven Stages Of Heartbreak:

1. Shock
2. Horror
3. Disbelief (a milder version of Stage 1)
4. Ice Cream
5. Rage
6. Despair
7. Vodka
8. Drunken yoga (I do not recommend Stage 8)
9. the Stage in which I forget to bathe until I smell like death
10. Ice Cream and Vodka
11. Acceptance

And now I think it's time to blog again. I hesitate to post a photo of myself because (a) I look like crap and (b) I'm too hungover to remember how to hook up my digital camera to my computer and it's possible I destroyed my digital camera during Stage 5.

p.s. I should probably mention that I am also officially divorced.

Dating Disasters

2010-04-05T12:14:00.001-07:00

I have been too busy to blog because I have been on a man hunt. I have gone on 17 first dates. I rejected the first 16 candidates but No. 17, oh my. He is just too lovely for words. I am going to seduce him.

They say the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but I would like to modify that old adage - the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach if you know how to cook. If your cooking repetoire is limited to rice krispies treats and toast, then the quickest way to a man's heart is with Jell-o shots.

No. 17 is taking me out to dinner tonight. Afterwards, I am going to invite him into my apartment; tell him to ignore Ralph (who will probably be weeping on the couch); and then ply him with jello shots. This strategy worked wonders for me during college so it ought to work tonight.

I carefully read the instructions on the Jell-O package. I was surprised that the instructions are only for non-alcoholic Jell-O - seriously? Does anyone actually buy this crap, planning to make a non-alcoholic version?

I added the powder to this beautiful heirloom plastic bowl that I got at Party City for like $1.49. Hey, stop laughing. As I have mentioned before, I was cheated out of a wedding and never got to register for expensive gifts, so my kitchen supplies are a little lacking. I own wine glasses, champagne glasses, 2 cereal bowls, and that's pretty much it.

I carefully measured the water. It was difficult to concentrate because Ralph was curled up in the fetal position, by the dishwasher, and sobbing hysterically. I blame Ralph for what happened next:

Disaster! My beautiful plastic heirloom bowl COLLAPSED when I added the hot water. Thank god this happened before I mixed in the vodka.

I'm never getting laid.

I'm Ready To Get Laid.

2010-03-25T20:44:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-03-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-03-17T03:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-10T18:26:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-08T14:40:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-07T17:48:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-03-04T17:49:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-03T09:07:00.000-08:00

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.

I WANT A WEDDING!

2010-02-27T17:17:00.000-08:00

I think it's really selfish that my "friend" Veronica expects me to be her bridesmaid. Way to rub the tragedy that is my life in my face. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed about my wedding - I had everything planned, from the proposal to the place settings. He would propose in the spring - probably during a romantic candlelit dinner at a very expensive, trendy restaurant. We would be engaged for a tasteful 14 months. I would have at least 10 bridesmaids, and they would treat me like a Princess. We would go shopping every weekend for at least two months searching for the most beautiful white wedding gown. Then, my bridesmaids would agree that they should wear shiny orange dresses so that they all looked hideous. (In my dreams, the shiny orange dresses involve a big ridiculous sash).

Instead, I accidentally got married in Vegas while on a "romantic" weekend trip with a man I had been dating for two weeks. I only went to Vegas with Ralph because I was feeling fat and vulnerable and lonely and wanted some free booze. And now Veronica is living my dream! She got the romantic proposal; she gets to torture a battalion of bridesmaids; and I get crap. No, worse - I get to waste my Saturday pretending to be excited about bridesmaid dresses.

Do you know how hard it is to pretend that you are interested in color swatches when you are secretly dying inside? Also, it's really unfair that Veronica gets to have this wedding because she is just the dumbest bride ever. She actually wants the bridesmaids to look pretty and feel comfortable in attractive dresses!

Oh, could this world be any more cruel? I am stuck with Ralph, and I do not even have the memory of a disappointing wedding. No photo album with photographs of me looking radiant and my friends looking like dog sh*t.

I tried to keep it together, but I ended up alone in a dressing room, sobbing, and wondering who would be my flower girl in the fantasy wedding that is never going to happen.

Friday Night Lament

2010-02-26T19:18:00.000-08:00

Another crappy Friday night. This Friday night is like all other Friday nights, except it involves the Olympics. Whoop-de-effin-do. I'm still married to Ralph; I'm still leading a crap boring life; and my wardrobe is just one big disappointment.

And to make matters worse, you will not believe what happened. One of my best friends got engaged! Wait, it's worse: her fiance is a total catch - tall, handsome, smart and he even likes watching American Idol.

Wait, it gets even more depressing: I'm a bridesmaid. How am I supposed to pretend to be happy for my friend's perfect life - while wearing a shiny dress that makes me look like a fat ugly beast - when I am married to Ralph?

We're going shopping tomorrow for bridesmaid dresses. Just kill me now. If I start drinking tonight, I might be drunk enough by tomorrow morning to handle the torture.

Wendy the Painfully Nerdy Cactus

2010-02-22T19:58:00.000-08:00

I have been having issues with my contact lenses and had to wear my glasses today. Do I look like (a) a sexy librarian, (b) a smart but sassy international spy, or (c) a painfully awkward nerd girl who knows far too much about Star Trek and likes to stay home alone on Friday nights with her cat Frodo.

Please don't answer that question.

On The Benefits of Emotional Eating

2010-02-21T18:15:00.000-08:00

So, I'm not pregnant. I should feel relieved. But I don't. Instead, I just feel depressed - why didn't Ralph take advantage of me when I was drunk? Aren't I beautiful and sexy and desirable?

I felt alone and needy. I wanted a strong drink, but I'm still recovering from my last bender. So I turned to Snap, Crackle and Pop instead.

I hate Snap, Crackle and Pop. Look at them. They look all happy and smug. Seriously, they are GLOWING. You know what I'm talking about. They are literally GLOWING over a bowl of freaking cereal. Look, I've been celibate for longer than I care to discuss, and even I don't get that excited about a bowl of cereal. (Except for Lucky Charms. Ok, and Frosted Flakes).

I'm actually not a big cereal person. I usually skip breakfast to save on calories. ("Breakfast is the most important meal of the day" my ass). But mix in some marshmallows and butter, and hello! I am a big supporter of Emotional Eating. Did your dog just die? Order a pizza AND EAT THE ENTIRE THING. Did your best friend just get engaged to a really hot doctor? You need french fries, brownies, and margaritas. And did your husband choose Wheel of Fortune over wild drunken sex?!? Make Rice Krispies Treats and start to eat the entire tray until you get sick, and then suck it up damnit and finish the tray.

Excuse me, please go away now. I am about to share a very intimate moment with the Rice Krispies treats.

I'm Not Pregnant!

2010-02-18T20:15:00.000-08:00

Ralph came home today from work today and, looking very serious, said he had something to tell me. I ignored him. He sat down on the couch next to me and would not go away (some men won't take a hint). Then, he said, very calmly, "Wendy, you are not pregnant."

I snorted. What? He's psychic now?

But no, for possibly the first time in his life, Ralph knew what he was talking about. He told me, "That night we were drunk, we did not make love." [make love?? gag]. He continued, "Wendy, I would not take advantage of you in that way. I love you, and I want this relationship to work." I think he said some more things about "trust" and "true love" but I tuned him out. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. We didn't have sex when I was drunk? How could he possibly resist my overwhelming beauty and sex appeal when I was helpless? What, is Ralph too good for drunken sex?

But yay, at least I'm not pregnant.

What I Will Look Like If I Am Pregnant (Hint: Obese)

2010-02-17T19:51:00.000-08:00

I am weighing the pros and cons of pregnancy. It is for the most part easy to identify whether something is a pro or a con. Having a child with Ralph? Con. I will be the first of my friends to have a baby and they will all be uber-jealous? Pro, big pro. But I'm not so certain about the weight gain - is that a pro or a con? On the pro side, I get to eat whatever I want and it is socially acceptable to wear jeans with an elastic waistband. But what will I look like?

I asked my friend Maggie to help me visualize what I will look like when I'm 7-9 months pregnant. Maggie is very artistic (she owns markers) and considered going to medical school when she was a college freshman. Maggie imagined two scenarios.

On the right, we see the "Sexy Pregnant Mama like Angeline Jolie." I gain some weight, all in my belly. On the left, we see gross, obese, miserable Wendy. I gain a lot of weight, everywhere and become Wendy the Walrus (although it looks like I might actually have some junk in my trunk).

Is it just me, or are these drawings total crap? It looks like there's a breast growing out of the side of my face. And in the walrus scenario, my head gets fat. Ok, so my cheeks might get a little puffy but am I really supposed to believe that my head is going to be encased in a protective layer of fat?

It's probably a good thing that Maggie did not go to medical school and became a lawyer instead.

Valentine's Post-Mortem

2010-02-15T16:21:00.001-08:00

Ralph got me a Valentine's Day present! I was so excited. So what if it was a day late? So what if he bought me a crappy discounted candy? So what if I had to have a public nervous breakdown on my blog before he realized he should maybe make a romantic gesture? I got a Valentine's present! I'm not a total loser!

I tried to be sweet and grateful, but just look at this thing. This is quite possibly the most tragic piece of Valentine's candy I have ever seen. I am gorgeous, witty and nurturing. I deserve chocolates, roses and diamonds. I might be carrying Ralph's baby, and he gets me a piece of discounted candy? I got better candy from my fifth grade boyfriend!

I might have lost my temper.

I think this crappy broken piece of discounted candy is an apt metaphor for our relationship.

Worst. Valentine's Day. Ever.

2010-02-14T19:58:00.001-08:00

Valentine's Day, I knewyou were going to be bad . But, congratulations, you exceeded my expectations. Here is a photo of what Ralph gave me:

It's nothing. Ralph gave me a big fat NOTHING for Valentine's Day. Let's recap: my husband is desperate for my approval and affection; we finally have a night of drunken sex; I might be pregnant with his child; and then Ralph decides to pass on the whole Valentine's Day romance thing? Are you $%#ing kidding me?

I don't want to be pregnant. I'll get fat and lose my girlish figure. Then I'll have to take care of the baby, and babies smell bad and make a lot of noise. Also, Ralph is really ugly, so if he got me knocked up, the baby will be 50% troll ugly. How can I be expected to love an ugly troll baby?

Dear Period: remember how I was complaining about how much I hate you and how I never want to have my period again? I was lying. I love you. Please come back. Love, Wendy

It's Official.

2010-02-14T11:29:00.000-08:00

Nobody loves me. I should just eat a bucket of mud and start talking to myself in public.

I Joined Facebook!

2010-02-12T17:38:00.001-08:00

I recently signed up for Facebook. My profile is at Wendy Thecactus. I tried to register as Wendy Cactus - because that is my name - but stupid Facebook would not recognize my last name. It said I didn't qualify for an account or something silly like that. It's like the time I was rejected by eHarmony.

So anyway, I have an account and I think you can find me if you search for my email address - wendythecactus@gmail.com. But I'm still learning this facebook thing, so I'm not one hundred percent certain about that. If you send me a friend request, I will probably confirm the request. (I reserve the right to reject the following "friends": people who are ugly; people who are boring; people who are more famous than me).

Anyway, if you haven't joined up for facebook, what are you waiting for? Facebook is very hip and edgy.

p.s. I was supposed to spend some quality time the past couple of days reflecting upon the possibility that I might be pregnant. I did not. Instead, I ate junk food, got a pedicure, and opened my facebook account.

There Is A Very Strong Possibility I Will Never Drink Alcohol Again.

2010-02-09T20:17:00.000-08:00

I suppose I should tell you about what happened yesterday. If you have been reading my blog, you will recall that I am celibate. In order to remain celibate, I've been also trying to stay sober. But I recently realized that I just need to stay sober when I am at bars, parties, etc. - basically, any time or place that I might come into contact with a sexually desirable man.

This means that I can safely drink myself into an oblivion when I am home.

Today, I was determined to be productive. I was going to clean the blinds, vacuum and scrub the bathtub. But first, I decided to improve myself by reading some non-fiction. It's important to be well read and educated.

Did you know you can learn things from books?? I know, I was surprised as well. But in my non-fiction book, there was a recipe for the Chi Chi. I did not know such a drink existed!

I immediately wanted to try a Chi Chi, but I did not have all the ingredients on hand. I could only make a cocktail that involved alcohol, Gatorade, moldy bread and raisins. Otherwise, I just had to drink shots.

This is not a problem - I love shots! I have been told that I do silly, ill advised, borderline dangerous things after I've had 3 or 4 shots. However, I have no first hand knowledge of this allegation because I always black out after the 3rd shot. Today was no different. Do you see that photograph below? That's the last thing I remember and then ...

I woke up in bed with my husband. Holy. Crap. I did not pay much attention during 7th grade sex ed classes (I spent most of the time blushing and giggling and covertly watching the Most Popular Boy) but I do know where babies come from, and I do recall quitting the pill because it was giving me a hairy lip and I don't see a condom wrapper in the trash can...

This is very bad.

Super Bowl? More Like "Super Crap"

2010-02-07T17:14:00.001-08:00

This year, I am watching the Super Bowl for the first time. Usually, I just go to a Super Bowl party; get drunk; flirt shamelessly with all the single men; flirt covertly with the hostess's boyfriend; and end the evening getting sick in the bathroom. God, I love Super Bowl parties!

This year, however, I did not get invited to any Super Bowl parties. I tried to invite myself to several parties, but Cynthia said her party is for singles only (bitch ho) and Geraldo said he could not invite me to his party because Ralph might tag along (yeah, I understand - Ralph is a considerable liability).

So I am at home alone, watching the Super Crap. You know, I usually joke about how I love a man in spandex ... but, I guess I never looked very closely. Look, spandex is for gymnasts, lithe ballerinas, and Prince. God did not intend fat men with saggy butts and love handles to wear spandex.

I thought a bottle of vodka would improve the game. It did - briefly - but then the halftime show started.

Is it just me, or was that the most uncomfortable halftime show ever? Whoever thought it would be a good idea to have The Who play the Super Crap halftime show should be shot and then fired. They are like 90 years old. The whole thing made me Super Anxious because I thought the singer was just going to drop dead right there on the stage. Although in retrospect, that would have been pretty cool.

My First Stalker!

2010-02-06T08:55:00.000-08:00

Exciting news: I have a stalker! His name is Creepy Lurker and he finally posted a comment after my January 31 post (Why I Would Make An Excellent Celebrity). This is what Creepy Lurker wrote:

You are looking great in that photo.

I really enjoy the photos where

you and Jo are side by side like that.

Oh yeah.

What a thoughtful and touching comment. I have always wanted a stalker, and to be honest, I have always felt incomplete - like something important was missing from my life. I have dated a lot and had plenty of boyfriends, and a few secret admirers, and hell, I even have a husband, but I have never had a stalker. But now that Creepy Lurker has posted a comment, I feel ... I feel ... oh my god, I don't know quite how to describe this feeling. It feels like the world is full of promise and hope and sunshine; everyone looks beautiful; I don't care if there's traffic or if the old lady ahead of me on the grocery store line pays for her groceries with pocket change and coupons and argues with the cashier about the price of the chicken wings. It feels like there is a star glowing inside my chest. I know I have felt this way before, it's just been so long, it's hard to identify.

Oh my god, I remember now. I feel ... happy.

I can tell good things are going to happen! What if Creepy Lurker is my soulmate? Or, maybe Creepy Lurker is a famous television producer who is going to turn my life into a reality series. No, I wouldn't be that lucky. Creepy Lurker is probably just my soulmate.

Snazzy New Banner!

2010-02-03T18:28:00.000-08:00

OMG look look look! I created my own banner. I failed my high school computer skills class but my god, I just figured out how to make my own blog banner. So what if it's a little fuzzy and tilted? I am still a GENIUS. Excuse me, I'm going to go eat a pint of ice cream to celebrate.

The Vampire Upstairs.

2010-02-03T17:14:00.000-08:00

I live on the second floor of a four story apartment building. Last night, around 3:45 a.m., I came to an important conclusion: my upstairs neighbor is probably a vampire.

I don't know if the resident in Unit 314 is male or female, but I do know that s/he is nocturnal. Now that I am a pampered housewife (ok, so marriage has a few perks), I spend a lot more time in my apartment. What is the point of going outside and being productive when there is so much good t.v. that needs to be watched? When I am home watching my soaps and Ellen, I never hear a sound from Unit 314. It's as if the unit is abandoned during sunlight hours.

The noises start a little after midnight. I usually sleep with ear plugs to drown out The Vampire's cacophony, but I had to wake up by 11 a.m. today to meet some girlfriends for brunch and I was afraid that I would sleep through my alarm if I was wearing ear plugs. This is what I heard last night from Unit 314:

- Closet doors opening loudly (all the apartments have heavy sliding mirrored closet doors).
- Closet doors closing loudly.
- Vampire stalks around apartment.
- Vampire goes to bathroom. Flushes toilet 4-5 times.
- More foot pounding - maybe there are multiple vampires upstairs? How many coffins can you fit in a one bedroom apartment?
- Closet doors opening loudly...
REPEAT 97 times between midnight and 4 a.m.

Then, the Vampire takes a shower. Flushes the toilet a few more times. And then, finally, silence. I don't even want to think about the rituals going on upstairs. Something sinister must be happening because there is no other reason why anyone would open and close their closets 97 or 98 times IN THE MIDDLE OF THE G.D. NIGHT.

Alternatively, my upstairs neighbor is a college student with college student hours who has a closet door compulsion. I feel compelled to reject this theory because it is last exciting than my Vampire Hypothesis.

Why I Would Make An Excellent Celebrity.

2010-01-31T15:21:00.000-08:00

Earlier today, I was feeling very depressed because I am not rich, famous and wildly happy. But then JoJo took me out for an expensive pedicure and champagne brunch (at 2 p.m.) and after my third glass of champagne, I felt better. I realized that even though I am not yet famous, I will be famous soon - probably in the next 4-6 weeks - and I am going to be an excellent celebrity. There are many, many reasons that I will be an excellent celebrity and I do not have time to share all those reasons here, because, quite frankly, I need to go watch the season premiere of Lost. But these are the most important reasons:

1. I love attention.

2. I once spent a lot of time trying to become friends with a certain actor on a certain hit television series. I would tell you his name, but my lawyer says I should avoid specifics when I share this particular story. Anyway, I figured out where this actor lived and I spent a little more time than usual in his neighborhood, and I might have gone through his trash. The actor said I was a "stalker" but I don't like that label. It's not right to call me a stalker because I am very charismatic and once the actor got to know me, he would have wanted to be my friend. So, when I am a celebrity, I know I will be good at distinguishing between Stalkers (which I am not) and Persistent Potential Friends.

3. I am very photogenic and look exceptionally good in all sorts of accessories, for example, this lovely crown:

4. I am dealing with the ruins of a disastrous marriage, which gives me an aura of intrigue and tragedy.

5. I am a veteran of fad diets and would never subject myself to the principles of "sensible nutrition" and "exercise." Way too dull.

I Hate Rock Band.

2010-01-31T14:50:00.000-08:00

Last night, JoJo and I hung out with some college friends. We were promised a fun Saturday night with alcohol, noncommittal flirtation, nostalgia and more alcohol. Instead, we were forced to participate in that special level of hell called Rock Band.

I do not play video games. I had a very traumatizing experience in the fifth grade that involved too much Kool-Aid, the Legend of Zelda and a wedgie that I will never forget. And ever since then, I have abhorred the company of Mario, the Sims and even those hypnotic Tetris blocks. But I have never been very good at resisting peer pressure, and last night, I was coerced (coerced I tell you!) into playing Rock Band.

It was hell.

I mean, look at this filthy contraption. This is supposed to be "fun"? If I had a choice between spending the day at work, or playing Rock Band, I would choose work. Wait, no, let me explain myself another way. If I had to choose between having sex with my husband, or playing Rock Band, I would probably choose Rock Band but it would be a very close call.

It was overwhelming. All the graphics on the screen; my friend Kenny was singing and believe me, you never want to hear Kenny sing if it can be avoided; and how am I supposed to push the pedal while hitting the pads? And I'm supposed to follow the rhythm? During my second song, I got motion sickness and vomited a little on the drumsticks.

What A Miserable Week.

2010-01-22T18:02:00.000-08:00

It has been raining since Sunday afternoon and I am officially sick of the g.d. rain. Jo took about a million photos of me this week - Wendy brushing her teeth, Wendy taking out the trash, Wendy driving the car, Wendy flirting with the barista at Starbucks - and I'm not posting a single effin photo because my hair is frizzy and I look like crap.

Jo is THIS CLOSE to getting on my last nerve. She. Never. Stops. Talking. And she is so self-absorbed. It's just Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo's ruined marriage, Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo's broken heart. Thank god I am not so self-centered. I am a very compassionate and loving friend. When Jo starts to talk about her ruined marriage, I interrupt her as quickly as possible and start talking about my crappy marriage. See, it's not because I want to talk about myself (even though I am much more interesting than Jo). No, it's because I am trying to distract Jo and show her that she is not alone. Aren't I amazing?

Wendy the Cake; Or, What I Would Look Like If I Was A Cake

2010-01-14T21:11:00.001-08:00

Late at night, when you can't sleep, do you ever wonder what you would look like if you were a cake? Ok, I can't say the thought ever actually crossed my mind but I encountered the answer tonight - in Little Ethiopa of all places - in the storefront of a fancy cake shop:

It's eerie. It doesn't even look like cake until you look at the non-cactus cakes. Then you realize, holy crap, somebody thought it would be a good idea to make a cactus cake. And they made it look exactly like me. I wonder if they've been reading my blog?

Question: What sort of sick $^%& buys a Cactus Cake? EVEN THE CACTUS THINKS THIS IS CRAZY.

p.s. Jo is driving me crazy.

My Friend Jo

2010-01-09T17:12:00.000-08:00

My freshman roommate Josephine is coming to visit indefinitely. I have always thought that Josephine was destined to have a tragic life because she has such a tragic, old lady/dead empress name. That is why I call her Jo, JoJo, and sometimes, when I am very drunk, Joey.

But alas, it seems that Tragedy has caught up with Jo. I don't know exactly what happened, but it sounds like her husband Waldo is banging his much younger (and much more attractive) secretary. Waldo told Jo that they should stay together and he really wants to end things with Misty the Secretary - but he's going to keep banging Misty because otherwise, Misty might sue him for sexual harassment. In the meantime, Misty is going to share the master bedroom with Waldo and Jo can just stay in the guest room. Jo tried this arrangment for 3 weeks, but I finally convinced her to take a break from Jo's Marital Hell and instead live in Wendy's Marital Hell. (are you getting all of this? there's a quiz at the end of this post.)

Jo has really low self-esteem. Some women deal with low self-esteem by seeking solace with their good friends Ben and Jerry. Other women seek refuge in the arms of Jack Daniels. Jo has instead made a career out of geting plastic surgery. Here's a photo of Jo in college:

And this is what she looks like today:

I mean, holy crap, if I didn't know better, I would say those were two completely different women! But no, that's Jo, pre-freshman 15, and Jo, post-about 17 different types of plastic surgery. It's sad really, she almost looks plastic.

My Friends Went To Vegas & All I Got Was This Lousy Shot Glass

2010-01-07T20:39:00.001-08:00

Ok, I guess I'm exaggerating. My "friends" went to Las Vegas for New Years Eve and they bought me the following crappy souvenirs: (1) a key chain; (2) something that is either a very flat ashtray or a very small cheese platter; and (3) a shot glass that says "My friends went to Las Vegas and all they brought me was this empty shot glass."

My girlfriends all went to Vegas to celebrate the New Year, but I was not invited because it was a "single girls only" trip. This is bullshit. I invented the "single girls only" Vegas excursion! My friends are bitches. First, they exclude me from the Single Girls Gift Exchange. And then they gallivant around Vegas, intoxicated and wearing tube tops, while I spend the better part of New Years Eve locked in the bathroom trying to avoid my drunk husband's sexual advances. I hope they all get syphilis and die alone.

Look, if I angle the ashtray/cheese platter just so, and stand right next to it, it kind of looks like I actually went to Vegas and had an exciting New Years Eve. Oh, who am I kidding?

Hello, 2010.

2009-12-29T11:19:00.000-08:00

2009 started so well - at a trendy Hollywood bar, drunk, and making out with a hot stranger. Four minutes later, everything started to go downhill when my friend Sandra threw up on my feet. Since then, it's been a steady descent into an abyss of darkness and despair.

I thought I turned things around last summer when a Secret Admirer sent me flowers. I was intrigued. Three dates - and one very bad bender in Vegas later - I found myself married. The rest is history.

But I am Wendy the Optimistic Cactus and I am convinced that 2010 is going to be an amazing year. Well, at least it will be better than 2009. Or, about the same as 2009.

Ok, look, 2010, I'm going to be straight with you: please have mercy. I am a broken woman. 2009 kicked me in the shins - again and again and again. Just when I thought 2009 and I could be friends, it threw acid in my face and stole my wallet. 2010, I know you are probably going to be a miserable, wretched year but if you just let me divorce my husband Ralph, I can take any other abuse - I can even spend Saturday nights at home. Alone and celibate. Watching Glee reruns.

Worst. Christmas. EVER.

2009-12-27T17:11:00.000-08:00

It's official: Ralph is the Worst Husband in the History of Bad Husbands. Excuse me, I have to go compose myself.

Ok, I'm back. I just spent the past 4 hours sobbing hysterically in bed. I think I'm done now. Wait, no.

Ok, I'm really done crying now. My tear ducts are exhausted. When I cry now, it is tearless - I just shake and heave and moan in agony. But I am a strong, independent woman and I do not need Christmas presents to be happy. Good thing, too, because my Christmas presents this year were total crap.

1. My mother gave me a selection of business cards for divorce attorneys that her friends recommend.

2. My single friends would not let me participate in our Annual Single Girls Secret Santa because I am married now and don't need silly single girl gifts like lipstick and shot glasses. I started that gift exchange, damnit!!!

3. Ralph gave me a used vacuum cleaner and a $25 gift certificate to Starbucks. He found the vacuum cleaner in the alley behind our apartment. It probably does not work. Actually, it will probably work just long enough to give me an electric shock and set the carpet on fire.

I've already spent the $25 gift certificate on seasonal flavored frappucinos. I was feeling depressed and thought the sugar would make me feel better. Instead, I felt depressed, ill and fat.

Please go away now.

Feliz Navidad!

2009-12-24T14:32:00.000-08:00

It's almost here - CHRISTMAS!!!

This is easily my favorite Christmas ornament. I made it myself last weekend when I was feeling depressed about my marriage.

In 2010, I'm thinking about redecorating my apartment with a bunch of portraits of myself. I have thought about doing this before, but I was worried it might seem a little creepy. Well, now that I have seen myself as a Christmas ornament, I have realized the error of my ways. Of course I should plaster my apartment with images of myself. Everyone knows that men are attracted to confident women.

Merry Christmas! If Ralph didn't spend at least $25,000 on my Christmas presents, I am going to be seriously pissed.

Best Christmas Present Ever

2009-12-22T19:30:00.000-08:00

For our annual Christmas present exchange, I gave Miles possibly the greatest Christmas present since the birth of Christ. The wrapping job is a little messy, but it's the thought that counts.

Miles eagerly unwrapped his present and - VIOLA!

IT'S ME! I gave Miles the gift of MYSELF. He gets to be my friend for another year and listen to all the drama in my life and buy me drinks and treat me to expensive pedicures.

Miles was so happy, he collapsed and remained silent for several moments. I told him, "I know, I know, you are too happy to speak." Finally, he began to shudder and cry softly. I said, "I know, I know, you are crying tears of joy." Then Miles started to mutter "selfish, selfish, selfish" but I knew he was just overwhelmed and was trying to say "so incredibly selfess, selfless, selfess."

Tonight, I feel like Wendy the Selfless Cactus.

Bah Humbug

2009-12-13T18:22:00.000-08:00

I am just not feeling the Christmas spirit this year. I loved Christmas as a child -the presents! the tree! the cookies! - but as a mature woman, I came to love Christmas even more. You know why? The Christmas parties! the egg nog! the mistletoe! more egg nog!

But this year, it's different. I can't canoodle with a strange hot man under the mistletoe. (Which means I better not indulge in the egg nog). Instead, I just stay home with my husband and furtively sneak out with my girlfriends when Ralph goes to the bathroom. This weekend, all my girlfriends disappeared. It feels like a conspiracy, but I guess they have dates or maybe someone got the evil swine flu.

I tried decorating our apartment to get me into the Christmas spirit. It didn't work.

Spa Day

2009-12-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

The holiday season always wears me out. I needed to go shopping today and buy Miles' present for our annual Christmas gift exchange. Last year, Miles gave me a selection of luxury bath products; I got him a lint brush. In 2007, Miles gave me a luxury cashmere blanket; I gave him a box of q-tips. In 2006, Miles gave me a t.v.; I gave him some old coasters I didn't want anymore. I really need to step it up this year, but I could not bear the thought of the mall - the struggle to find a parking spot; crying children with snotty noses; all the ugly people.

So I got a facial instead.

I love spa treatments! But today, I was disappointed. I wanted to zone out and go to my happy place - a place where I am still single and leading an exciting, glamourous life. But Tanya (the woman giving me my facial) WOULD NOT SHUT UP.

It would have been acceptable if Tanya was asking me a series of thoughtful questions and giving me the chance to vent about all the drama in my life. But no. Tanya would not stop talking about herself. Blahblahblah, me me me, I have breast cancer, blahblahblah, I'm trying to stay optimistic, sigh moan sigh, I'm just so lucky to have such a supportive family. Yeah, cry me a river, Tanya. Thanks for ruining what was supposed to be a relaxing morning. And I still don't have Miles' Christmas present. Crap, I'm the worst friend in the world.

A Present For Ralph.

2009-12-12T17:46:00.000-08:00

I know exactly what Ralph wants for Christmas: he wants me to put out. But that is so not going to happen in this or any lifetime. So I got him this instead:

It's the complete DVD collection of the greatest television show in the history of television: Sex and the City!

I have always wanted to own the complete DVD collection of SATC. I could have bought it for myself, but instead, I bought it for Ralph. Sometimes I am amazed at how incredibly selfless I can be. Ralph is really lucky to be married to such a thoughtful and sacrificing woman.

Look at them - aren't they beautiful? I think I like them better than I like my own friends. I cannot imagine what my life would be like without them. Indeed, my life has felt a little empty ever since the show went off the air. The re-runs on Bravo are just not the same - they edit out all the good bits.

I admire all of the girls, but I identify with Samantha the most. She's just so strong and independent and she sleeps with a lot of hot men. This might sound sentimental, but Samantha is my role model.

Celibacy Update

2009-12-10T18:51:00.000-08:00

As you may recall, I am trying to remain married to my husband Ralph for a decent amount of time. I'm concerned that if we get divorced too quickly, men will assume I am unstable, crazy or bad in bed. It would be really easy to stay married to Ralph if I could take a lover. Ralph, however, will immediately divorce me if I cheat on him. (Actually, I believe his exact words were "I'll lock you in a closet until you are on the brink of death and then I'll flay you'll alive," but I have to assume he was speaking in hyperbole. Right?)

Since I cannot take a lover, and it's too early to divorce Ralph, I have no choice but to practice celibacy.

And I am here to tell you that celibacy is a bitch.

These are my options:
1) Divorce Ralph now and spend the rest of my life alone, shunned by hot wealthy men.

2) Experience carnal relations with my husband. (Excuse me, I just threw up in my mouth).

3) Throw myself into a new hobby.

A new hobby it is! Knitting did not work out so well, but there has got to be a hobby out there for me. Of course, an unhealthy addiction would be just as an effective.

Vital Statistics

2009-12-09T19:29:00.000-08:00

It has been brought to my attention that my audience might be interested in some of my background information. While my daily adventures are extremely exciting, I must agree that all the little details that make up Wendy are equally fascinating.

So, allow me to introduce a new weekly* column That Does Not Have A Name But It Will Be About My Vital Statistics Which Are Extremely Interesting So This Weekly* Column Does Not Need An Interesting Name.

Let's start with some very basic information (I don't want to overwhelm you):

- Favorite colors: Pink, green, red, yellow, and argyle. Sometimes blue and purple.

- Greatest Ambition: To be friends with a Famous Person.

- Biggest Regret: I am not a person who dwells on the past. I accept my mistakes and move on. Oh, who am I kidding? Biggest Regret? Marrying Ralph.

- Favorite Athlete: Beckham because (a) sexy body and (b) he's married to a Spice Girl. I'm not certain what sport he plays but he has a British accent so I think it might be grasshopper or basketball.

- Flaws: None.

* By "weekly," I mean "whenever I feel like it." By "whenever I feel like it," I mean (a) when Ralph is annoying me, (b) there's nothing good on t.v. or (c) I don't want to blog about what's happening in my life at the moment because it is too humiliating.

Dress Rehearsal

2009-12-07T19:53:00.000-08:00

I have learned the secret to a successful marriage: Acting. When I was about 11 years old, I had a really bad day at school and I told my grandma I wanted a nose job. Grandma Cactus told me that I am beautiful just the way I am and I should always "be true to myself." Well, I love you Grandma Cactus, but that has got to be the worst advice anyone has ever given me.

Marriage is all about pretending you like your spouse and convincing everyone that you are happy. It has nothing to do with "being true to yourself." This is especially true on Christmas morning.

I expect my husband Ralph is going to shower me with many thoughtful and expensive presents on December 25. Now, when I'm near Ralph, I usually want to vomit. But I don't want to accidentally vomit on my new Manolo Blahnik's. So, I decided I need to practice the things I will say to Ralph on Christmas morning.

(The penguins and snowmen helped me get in the Christmas morning mood).

I am working on the following script for Christmas morning:

- Oh my god, I love you so much! (I will say this while staring at my new expensive purse. Ralph will think I am saying "I love Ralph" but actually, I will be saying "I love you, Prada Purse.")

- Why don't you open the present I bought you? I think you're going to love it... what, you don't want the complete Sex and the City dvd set? Oh shoot, I bought it three months ago. I guess we have to keep it!

- Where are the rest of my presents? Oh, I guess 27 presents is enough you bastard. (I will say this last bit very, very softly - but loud enough so Ralph can hear it.)

Santa Baby

2009-12-05T16:50:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa/Husband Ralph,

I want presents. Lots and lots of presents. Expensive presents. Expensive and impractical presents. No vacuum cleaners, sewing machines or toaster ovens for this party girl. On Christmas morning, I expect the following items to be waiting for me under the tree:

(1) A gift certificate to Tiffany's in an amount that involves at least 3 zero's. My self-esteem would really benefit from this gift.

(2) A one week vacation at a luxury spa - ALONE. A pampered wife is a happy wife. Well, a complacent wife. Ok, a pampered wife will probably not kill you in your sleep.

(3) Shoulder pads.

(4) A new purse. I'm not too particular about this one, I'd just like something that Paris Hilton owns.

(5) A pair of Manolo Blahnik's. Nothing black. Think Sex and the City.

(6) Whatever the expensive new "it" gadget is. I don't actually know what this is BUT I WANT IT.

I reserve the right to revise or expand upon the scope of this list. Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter. Ralph - if you buy me all of these presents, I will probably hate you less.

Wendy T. Cactus

A Math Lesson

2009-12-02T21:02:00.000-08:00

What happens when an unhappy wife finds the key card from her husband's illicit stay at the Embassy Suites?

Well, allow me to answer that question with a math equation:

Angry Wife + Glue Gun = ?

Angry Wife + Glue Gun = Husband with New Hairpiece

Class Dismissed!

What the hell is this?

2009-11-30T20:11:00.000-08:00

I found THIS in my apartment:

It's the "key" for a hotel room at the Embassy Suites. I am confused and upset. Confused because apparently Ralph tricked someone into sleeping with him, and I really can't get my mind around that concept. He is such an ugly toad and don't get me started on the halitosis. Upset because he stayed at the Embassy Suites. Am I really married to a man who conducts his extra-marital affairs at the Embassy Suites? That is so BORING. If you are going to cheat on your spouse, and you need a room, then you only have two options: (1) ridiculously expensive hotel, where you rub elbows with the likes of Bon Jovi and Cher; or (2) sketchy roadside motel where you rub elbows with prostitutes and serial killers.

But the Embassy Suites? I'm so humiliated.

I Need Help.

2009-11-30T18:31:00.000-08:00

A Light Lunch

2009-11-28T18:15:00.000-08:00

I kind of pigged out on Thanksgiving. Honestly, I am comfortable sharing with you the number of calories I consumed - if only I knew. Unfortunately, I blacked out when I got up for a third serving of mashed potatoes. I cannot tell you what happened between 5:45 and 7:50 p.m. but I am told that I ate the pumpkin pie. All of it.

I decided it was time for some damage control today. So I had lunch at Long John Silver's.

I ordered chicken, fish, and potatoes. Lean protein + vegetable = healthy lunch.

It was amazing. For the second time this week, I lost consciousness. But once you lose consciousness, the calories don't count. If you can't taste the food, then it can't make you fat. Amen.

An Open Letter to My Husband

2009-11-27T15:26:00.000-08:00

Husband:

I know you are reading this. I don't care what your mother says, but it is an invasion of my privacy when you read this blog. Didn't anyone ever teach you about boundaries?

But, since I have your attention, I thought I would take this opportunity to share some advice. Last night, you asked me: "How can we save our marriage?" I'm sorry I laughed so hard, but I honestly thought you were joking. I thought your tears were part of the gag.

I have meditated upon your question, and I have some advice. If you want to make this marriage work, there is something you can do: shower me with presents.

Ralph, in celebration of the Christmas season, I think you should give me lots of presents. Expensive presents. Treat me like the Trophy Wife that I was born to be. Also, please try to be less ugly.

Your Wife,

Wendy

p.s. Remember to wash the dishes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T11:26:00.000-08:00

It's here it's here it's here!!! The day I can eat whatever I want and no one will judge me. Candied yams! Stuffing! Cranberry sauce! Pumpkin pie! I can eat it all and no one will frown and shake their head while staring at my waistline.

Here is the conclusion of my Gratitude List:

5. I look damn cute in hats.

4. I have a happy marriage. Well, a content marriage. Ok, fine, a faithful marriage, but only because my husband is too fat/bald/ugly to score with the ladies. I hate my marriage.

3. Sex and the City, the greatest t.v. show ever.

2. I can't remember. I was thinking something about self-esteem last night, but that can't be right.

1. Chocolate.

Gratitude, Part 3

2009-11-25T08:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was floored by a diabolical stomach virus from the 4th (possibly 5th) level of hell. It was truly evil and my illness made me feel grateful about the following: Nothing.

Today, I am feeling a little better. Before I retire to the couch, I will try to think of a few more things I am grateful for:

10. Dark sunglasses, blonde wigs, and crowbars.

9. Antacids.

8. Drunk dialing.

7. My cat-like reflexes.

6. [CENSORED - THIS IS A FAMILY BLOG DAMNIT.]

Greatest Gratitude Hits, Part 2

2009-11-23T19:48:00.000-08:00

It's here. The moment you have been eagerly waiting for: My Hundredth Blog Post. I thought I would celebrate this moment with cupcakes and fireworks. Instead, I'm going to commemorate this historic moment with a shitty gratitude list. So today, I am grateful for:

15. Nothing. I'm drawing a blank.

14. I had a bad day.

13. I accidentally farted in front of a cute guy at Starbucks.

12. It was really loud.

11. But the coffee was pretty good, so I guess I'm grateful for that.

Giving Thanks?

2009-11-22T17:26:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving is this Thursday. I love Thanksgiving because it is the holiday devoted to consuming as many calories as possible in a single sitting without any consequences (it's true, you can't gain weight on Thanksgiving). But I recently learned that Thanksgiving is allegedly about giving thanks - I think Oprah or Martha Stewart said something about it. No, not Martha - she said that Thanksgiving is the holiday about making fancy napkin rings that look like pilgrims.

It kind of makes sense that Thanksgiving is about giving thanks (think about it for a moment. If you are struggling, take a closer look at the name - Thanks + Giving. Clever, huh?) Since Thanksgiving might be about giving thanks, I'm going to keep track of the things I'm thankful for this week. A Gratitude Countdown, if you will. Wendy the Cactus's Top Twenty List of Things That She Is Grateful For. This is going to be tough.

20. Selective memory.

19. Women who are uglier/fatter than me.

18. The very strong possibility that I will someday be super famous and paid to make appearances at parties and clubs.

17. The quizzes in Cosmopolitan. They offer me so much insight and are extremely accurate.

16. Scented candles.

My First Scarf.

2009-11-08T17:50:00.000-08:00

Here is a photo of me with my first scarf. From a distance, it looks really professional and sharp, like something Angeline Jolie would wear.

The scarf, a little closer. This is probably as close as you want to get.

You probably should not read the rest of this post. I would not be surprised if your internet browser suddenly shut down due to the ugliness of the following photos (Rated RFU for Really F'ing Ugly). I mean, just look at this piece of crap. It's as if I deliberately knit The World's Ugliest Scarf. A homeless person in South Dakota in February would rather go naked than wear this thing.

This is my favorite part. I can see right through the scarf BECAUSE THERE IS A BIG F'ING HOLE THE SIZE OF THE GRAND CANYON. Holy crap, I might as well have been knitting drunk while riding on a unicycle, it's that bad.

Please go away now.

I Knit My First Scarf.

2009-11-08T17:49:00.001-08:00

After hours of suffering and agony, I finally managed to knit my first scarf.

But I'm not going to show it to you. It's too humiliating.

I am breaking up with knitting. Time for a new hobby. Any suggestions?

And We've Reached A New Low.

2009-11-04T20:49:00.000-08:00

Please go away now.

Somewhat Frustrated.

2009-11-04T20:47:00.000-08:00

I thought it would take me 20 minutes to learn how to knit (25 minutes TOPS - I am a very fast study). But it's been 2 days, and my progress is slow.

Very slow.

Wendy the Knitter

2009-11-04T20:38:00.001-08:00

Exciting news: I am going to learn how to knit! This is going to be so awesome. I can see it now: I'll be that quirky but hip girl knitting at the coffee shop; all the hot hipster guys will fight to buy me lattes. I'll knit my entire wardrobe - sweaters; scarves; hats. This time next week, I'll probably have finished my first sweater. I can knit everyone's Christmas gifts and all my loved ones will be so touched that I made their present this year. I'll join a knitting group and meet this really fun and exciting knitter, Nancy, and Nancy has a twin brother who is just perfect for me and even though he just broke up with his girlfriend of three years, he is still emotionally available and ready for a serious meaningful relationship.

Ok, enough blogging - I have to get my knit on! Someday, when I'm on Oprah, I'll have to remember to tell Oprah about the day I learned how to knit. I can already tell this is one of those life-changing moments.

Operation: Stay Married

2009-11-03T19:28:00.000-08:00

Objective: Stay married until Spring 2010.

Viable Strategies for Implementing Objective: None.

Desperate Strategies for Implementing Objective:

Get kidnapped by a cult. Pros: Lose lots of weight because it's a vegan cult. Cons: Where do I begin?
Coma. Pros: Lose lots of weight because I'm living off an IV. Cons: I can't go that long without a bikini wax.
Go to Antartica to study the penguins. Pros: I like penguins. Cons: Bad cell phone reception.
My husband gets kidnapped by a cult and when he's rescued, the shock of civilization sends him into a coma. Pros: Where do I begin? Cons: None.

It's going to be a long winter.

Happy Halloween My Ass

2009-10-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

There is nothing happy about halloween when you are practicing celibacy.

My Halloween Costume.

2009-10-29T20:46:00.000-07:00

My evening commute was a total ordeal, but it gave me an opportunity to reflect upon my marriage. Initially, I decided to stay faithful to my husband for two or three months, and then launch myself into a series of steamy adulturous affairs. But, if I have an affair, I will blog about it. And now that my husband knows about this blog, he will read about my affair and know that he has been cuckolded. Then, there is a strong possibility that he will either (a) divorce me, (b) kill me, or (c) post my old fat photos on facebook.

I thought I wanted to divorce my husband as soon as possible, but I realized something as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic - if I divorce my husband after less than six months of marriage, everyone will assume I am a flighty, crazy woman. Damaged goods. No one wants to date damaged goods.

So, I have to stay faithful to Ralph as long as possible. My goal is to make this marriage last at least two years. 18 months. A year at least. Ok, definitely 10 or 8 or maybe 7 months.

Halloween is a slight problem. Halloween is my favorite holiday because it gives me the perfect excuse to dress up in a trashy costume, get drunk, and hook up with a stranger. But not this year! This year, I will be almost sober and chaste. If I want to be chaste, this means I should probably not wear the Slutty Nurse costume that I bought last week.

I have to wear a different costume.

A costume that says "I am lousy in bed."

A costume that says "Please do not buy me any drinks."

A costume that looks like this:

For Halloween 2010, I am dressing up as Wendell the Cactus.

Bottoms Up!

2009-10-27T18:56:00.000-07:00

Ok, it's time to wrap up this Gas-X storyline. I never intended to let it go on for this long. Actually, I don't recall writing the entry that started this series of posts. I've been taking diet pills this month and there have been some troubling memory gaps.

That said, let's conclude The Flatulence Chronicles. After far more suffering than I care to remember, I finally took the damn pill after breakfast this morning. I didn't want to - I hate pills (except diet pills! because they make me gorgeous!) - but I was a very brave cactus and I took my medicine.

Now, it is time to elevate this humble blog's content level and move on to more serious matters: like Halloween candy! I think after all my tribulations this week, I deserve to consume at least 4000 calories on Saturday.

Also, I think I need a hobby. Stay tuned.

I don't know.

2009-10-27T18:46:00.000-07:00

It has been brought to my attention that it is probably safe for me to take the Gas-X because the pills are in some child-proof packaging and ... well... my husband has the emotional maturity of a child, so it is highly unlikely he could actually find a way to tamper with the pills and not leave behind some evidence.

But I don't know. It still feels too risky.

Has anyone ever read the information on a Gas-X packaging? It's so funny, I'm almost enjoying my plight. My favorite bit: "Use for the relief of pressure, bloating, and fullness commonly referred to as gas." (If I have to explain the humor in this, you should probably not be reading my blog.)

Still Smelly and Bloated.

2009-10-26T20:54:00.001-07:00

We live in a cynical world.

Relief has arrived. When I came home from work, hark - Gax-X! I started to weep (50% joy, 40% relief, 10% from shock that someone is actually reading this blog).

Then, through my tears, I saw something truly horrible: my husband. He Who Shall Not Be Named had bought me the Gas-X. This means I cannot take the Gas-X because the Unbearable Husband probably poisoned the pills. Sigh. Ever since I stopped putting out, Ralph has been bitter and cranky and plotting his revenge. I don't trust the bastard.

p.s. Who told my husband about this blog? People, come on. Is nothing sacred?

p.p.s. Husband, I still hate you and I'm not going to edit my anti-husband comments, even if they do make you feel sad and think about divorce. Divorce is the new black.

Wendy the Cactus

This Is Goodbye (For Now)

Wendy vs. The Cake: Part 3 (The Final Shameful Chapter)

Wendy vs. The Cake, Part 2

Wendy vs. The Cake: Part One

Where the Eff Did This Come From?

Altoids. Joy.

I Want To Do Unholy Things With This Butter

Green Tea Tastes Like Cat Pee

How to Read My Blog

Probiotics: The Secret to a Slamming Hot Body

Investigative Reading

I Am More Interesting Than The Royal Wedding

Ugh - Slow Internet

Temptation, Thy Name Is Peeps!

Easter Candy! Or, My Cadbury Obsession

I Got An iPhone!

Recommended Reading

I Am Not A "Regular" Woman!

Open Letter to My Potential Corporate Sponsors

Traffic. SIGH.

I Miss Coffee. A Lot.

The Indignity of Being Single

I Just Wish I Was Ordinary.

I AM GORGEOUS

Wendy the Bride

My Pink Boa Resolution - Week One Update

The Most Amazing Boardgame in the History of the World.

Wendy the Movie Star

A Pink Boa & A Resolution

I Will Be Famous.

I Hate Wikipedia.

Wendy the Wikipedia Entry

And We've Reached A New Low (Yet Again).

Baby Steps

Shameful

Donuts.

Sigh.

I Know, I Know, I Know

Dating Disasters

I'm Ready To Get Laid.

An Open Marriage? Really?

I Can't Sleep.

Happiest Place on Earth My Ass

One Year Anniversary

Oscars Schmaschars

Here Comes the Bride...

Meditations and Reflections

I WANT A WEDDING!

Friday Night Lament

Wendy the Painfully Nerdy Cactus

On The Benefits of Emotional Eating

I'm Not Pregnant!

What I Will Look Like If I Am Pregnant (Hint: Obese)

Valentine's Post-Mortem

Worst. Valentine's Day. Ever.

It's Official.

I Joined Facebook!

There Is A Very Strong Possibility I Will Never Drink Alcohol Again.

Super Bowl? More Like "Super Crap"

My First Stalker!

Snazzy New Banner!

The Vampire Upstairs.

Why I Would Make An Excellent Celebrity.

I Hate Rock Band.

What A Miserable Week.

Wendy the Cake; Or, What I Would Look Like If I Was A Cake

My Friend Jo

My Friends Went To Vegas & All I Got Was This Lousy Shot Glass

Hello, 2010.

Worst. Christmas. EVER.

Feliz Navidad!

Best Christmas Present Ever

Bah Humbug

Spa Day

A Present For Ralph.

Celibacy Update

Vital Statistics

Dress Rehearsal

Santa Baby