I Watch Porn To Avoid The Drama In Relationships April 6, 2009

The title of this post is a summary of a comment made by one of the people featured on MTV’s “True Life: I’m Addicted to Porn”.  He claims to watch 5-10 hours of porn every day. He lives with his grandmother and missed  a job interview because he miscalculated the amount of time it would take him to select a video at  store called “Spanky’s”.  Yeah, he clearly has so much stress in his life,  I can see why he would want a drama-free relationship.

(sigh)

My desire to do well at the new job has resulted in gross neglect of balance in my life.  I’ve reverted to eating poorly, avoiding vegetables and pre-packed snacks; traded in books, blogs, and bonding with Hubster for TV and fast food; I haven’t worked out in over a month and my sleeping is off.  The car, my office, and my closet are a mess and I’ve had my cell phone off since Friday.

Monday marks the beginning of the re-entry of balance into my life.   Until then, please enjoy my last story-less blog, intended to keep you updated on my sad little goings on:

FRIDAY

-Squee at my new boss while he moves stuff into his office.  Wonder if I should start decorating my office, too.

-Realize I may have been disseminated incorrect information to students but not sure which ones, so consider working over the weekend to review every file of every student I’ve met in the last month to see if the mistake was made.

-Smack myself in the face for the thought.  There will be time to go back and correct the mistake once the office slows down in May and that I will burn myself out more than I have by giving up workouts to work on work.

-Volunteer at event honoring smartypants students and marvel at the notion that these people have the potential to create the next Google, find a cure for Parkinson’s, or design clothes from vegetables; but the notion of forming a line or  managing the concept of a check-in table causes brain cells to burst.
- Resist the urge to go back to the office to answer emails and get a jump on next week.
-Turn off cell phone in order to spend time with neglected Hubster watching professional tennis in preparation for my first tennis lesson.
-Eat 1/2 box of Ginger Snaps, drink a Coke and eat store-bought fried chicken before self-imposed diet begins on Monday.

SATURDAY
-Eat 1/2 of Ginger Snaps and Coke for breakfast.

-Take first tennis lesson with substitute instructor, Phil, who looks a lot like Tim Gunn, only less gay.

-Try not to be intimidated by woman who arrives as the poster child for Puma’s new line of “Tennis for Trophy Wives”.  She’s got the skirt, the top, the visor, the shoes, the bag…it’s like a pro shop threw up on her.  And her friend.

-And they’re a little tickeled that the little brown girl in her mismatchy clothes wants to play. I even get some giggly words of encouragement the first time I hit the ball, which quickly dies down as Phil says “Jenn, that’s perfect. Everyone watch her!”.

-I may not be as cute next week.

-Play tennis with Hubster to practice my new skills.

-Remembering every bit of the lesson results in my missing the ball. A lot.

-Hey,there is only so much time between the time the fuzzy sphere rockets towards you before you can get through all the instruction: keep elbow away from body/point left arm in direction you want to hit/swing with full arm, not just wrist/start swing on first step/angle strings/bend knees and swing up/follow through so butt of racket faces opponent,

- Marvel at the 340 pound gay man who arrives on the court next to ours. Who’s pretty damn good.

-Try not to stare or feel like a gigantic loser watching him play. Pray to whatever god that will listen to me he doesn’t ask us to play doubles. It may result in over eating/drinking later.

-Remember that I am old and playing 2.5 hours of tennis is a bit much.

-Eat lunch and take a nap.

-Meet My Singles to see town’s most famous 80s cover band.

-Try to think of creative response for bouncer who thinks he’s Bubba Sparxx and tells me “I get off at 3am”.  Wonder why I never get hit on by men with jobs that don’t require them to wear silkscreen t-shirts.

-Walk to bar and get accosted by deadlocked bartender named Sanchez. Try not to make joke about his name as he makes me a ’special’ drink that involves fire and costs $10.  Find another bartender who Sanchez called racist and order at $3 drink instead.

- Accept the fact that I am an old lady as I complain about the band not starting on time, worrying about the health of my ears due to our proximity to the speakers, and start concerning myself with how long I can stand before my feet will hurt.

-Realize that sweating + dancing= eventually sobering up. And that is the exact moment when the small girl in front of you becomes a bony elbowed bitch you’ll consider fighting if she steps on your sore feet one more time.

-Go to bed slightly intoxicated results telling The Hubster he has crusty monkey feet and having, yet another, discussion about my dislike of his facial hair.

SUNDAY

-Nurse hangover by watching reruns of 90210 with Ginger Snaps and Coke.
-Watch tennis with Hubster who coaches me from our couch.
-Finally see “Alive” and wonder if frozen dead people taste like chicken.
-Eat chicken Hubster buys for lunch and wonder if it tastes like cold, dead people.

- Remember that I am 33 and cannot recover from a hangover like I used to and take a nap.

-Wake up and start Return to Balance 2009 plan by catching up on blogs, signing up for tennis groups, and considering taking free 5:30am boot camp.

-Pay for the weekend with violent and powerful diarrhea.

-See that clock reads 12:47am and realize that I may not have a true understanding of the concept of ‘balance’.