....And we're back.

I'm 90% sure I told you all I would forget about and abandon this blog at some point. And if there's one thing I'm good at it's lowering peoples expectations*, so I hope you all weren't disappointed when it finally happened.

*I'm actually terrible at lowering peoples expectations, due to how incredible I am.

I decided that I'm just going start writing about whatever I've been doing, like some dystopian mom blog you can't stop reading because you wish your life was better. Damn, I just used the word dystopian in reference to an American family situation. Edgy, right? Uh oh! What will I say next?

Paints And Brushes

Don't say I never did anything for you, because this post is about to prove that I actually care about you people, specifically the people from Germany who are reading my blog. All one of you. Thank you for being my only foreign viewers (yes, I will continue to talk about them in plural to make myself feel better), because Canadians, seeing as they're simply a more pleasant version of Americans, obviously don't count.

I have dug up a little nugget for you, a little parfait, if you will (I know it doesn't make sense), that is possibly the greatest thing on the Internet.

Let me just say that I have been looking for this particular nugget for quite some time. It took a lot of effort to find it, but I think we'll all agree it's worth it in the end. You see, I first heard it an episode of 30rock, because it's Tina Fey singing a fake Joni Mitchell song that she completely made up. They played it in the background at hipster club in the show, and I've been trying to find the full version of it ever since. Tonight I was successful. Therefore, if you don't like Tina Fey and you've never heard a Joni Mitchell song, you probably should stop here. And you should probably just stop reading my blog while you're at it.

So finally ladies and Germans, I present to you Paints and Brushes;

http://soundcloud.com/ericandrew16/paintsandbrushes

There's also a version where she just says sad things repeatedly like "Let's put the baby up for adoption" but that one is being elusive.

Text Me

I tend to forget about things a lot, like how every person in America forgets about professional soccer the day after the World Cup ends. Sometimes it's simple things, like forgetting to get off the treadmill when I listen to my hypnotics tapes, or forgetting everything good that's ever happened in the world when I'm in a bad mood. But one thing I never forget is to check the spelling of my text messages. Unintentional misspellings in texts is like wearing white after whatever thing you can't wear white after, in that only people who are jerks care about it. But if there's one lesson I learned from being in all those bad moods, it's that a lot of people are jerks, so you have to be careful--

(Before I go on, I just want to comment on the fact that the cars outside my house sound much louder than normal right now, and I don't know if it's because I have to pee or because I have increased hearing because of my smoothie sugar high, but I know it's one of those two things)

--because before you know it your inbox will be filled with messages that just say "ok" and "haha" without any proper punctuation or capitalization, proving you are not worth any effort whatsoever. It's a slippery slope, but that's how it goes when you don't like the pope (you see, it's funny because it rhymes and because it has an underlying message that not being catholic will lead to bad decisions. I know it's not totally solid. You're thinking about it too much. Just go with it, for goodness sake! I don't have to explain myself to you).

The most important thing is that communication, especially technological, is not for the weak. For example, it's very easy to be hurtful in a text because there are no direct consequences. You might never even see the person again, which makes everyone suddenly grow a pair. And the best part is that it's mostly done through innuendo and not really saying what you're saying, so you can always claim you weren't really saying what the person claims you were saying when they send you a text confronting you about what you were saying. If you find yourself doing this, it's probably time you took a little break from technology, like Ryan Seacrest did from being talented.

Now, before I say too many negative things and unintentionally force you all onto the bummer train, I'm going to leave you with this and pretend like I don't know what you're talking about when you text me about it tomorrow.

Smoothie Coma

The past three days I've become addicted to smoothies. I have consumed six smoothies in the last three days alone. Do the math. WAIT, too late, I already did it. That's two smoothies a day. Are you as disgusted with yourself as I am? You shouldn't be. You're not the one consuming obscene amounts of sherbet and fruit juice on a daily basis.

The great thing about smoothies is that you can create so many different combinations. You never get bored. My favorite right now is definitely strawberry-pineapple with passion fruit sorbet and papaya juice. But no matter how many different combinations you create, you always have that same smooth, smoothie texture and iciness. It's incredible. It's like heavy metal bands, no matter how many different words they find with more than five syllables to name their songs after, they'll still be churning out the same exact thing over and over. Except with smoothies it's actually enjoyable.


And, this may be my perpetual sugar high talking, but I'm starting to feel a little bit bad about how many things I've bashed over the course of this blog already. I especially hope no one at all with an attachment to American Idol reads this blog. They might have an emotional breakdown. Which pretty much alienates about 80% of people with an Internet connection.

But hey, alienating people is one of my special skills. Like when I tell people that I didn't like Titanic or that I don't believe dinosaurs ever existed. I bet with those two facts alone someone could convince you I'm a terrible person.

Also, I think drinking soda is disgusting. Especially diet soda.



I should probably just stop here before someone actually gets offended.

You can't just ask people why they're white

Apparently I have nothing worthwhile to say because I haven't been able to think of anything to post for the past couple days, so I think I've reached the point of no interest. Which is the point at which I usually give up on things, like what happened to the writers of Lost after season three.




But because I have nothing better to do while I sit in the waiting room before I get my botox injections (now that I've finished reading The Secret), I figure I might as well keep this going. As my optometrist told me after he laughed for a few minutes when I asked him for a prescription for Lunesta, it's okay to be crazy as long as other people think it's funny. So I guess as long as people keep reading this I can do whatever I want.

So with that, I'll leave you with one of my greatest passions in life. Harry Potter photos with quotes from Mean Girls.

Dandelion Blue Mane

A couple days ago I saw someone post a link to a most magical website, a website where dreams come true, where bad people simply drop dead, and racism is finally beaten forever.

No, I'm not talking about the Internet version of Disney World. I'm talking about this:

http://unicorn.namegeneratorfun.com/



Here's my magical unicorn name:

Dandelion Blue Mane


Dandelion is a little bit crazy (who told you that? Has my therapist been mouthing off again?)

He is as blue as the sky (Like depressed or like I'm literally that color?)

And he casts love spells (That never turns out well. Have you ever even seen Harry Potter?)



I greatly encourage you all to find out your own unicorn name and post it here once you do. It's like discovering a part of your life you never knew about. Kind of like discovering a long lost family member, except you don't have to talk to anyone.

Like A Cheetah

As I reflected on today's earlier post while doing my daily meditation yoga in my prayer pagoda, I realized, first of all, that I have lots of issues, and secondly, that memorizing routines for my Zumba classes is not helping to relieve any of my stress.

For some reason this has led to me thinking about my numerous irrational fears. Actually, lets use the word unusual. I read in a magazine article once that no fear is irrational. Or did I hear that on a commercial for anti-anxiety meds? I can't remember.

Anyways,

I'm going to tell you all about my unusual fears, because, unless social networking trends have lied to me, this, and everything else I do, is worth making you read about.

1) I hate matches. I use the extra long ones that people usually use to light their grills when I have to light a candle.

2) Like matches, I find sparklers or any small, sparking or exploding object to be terrifying.

3) People holding flashlights at night is possibly the most horrifying thing ever. If I see someone in the distance using a flashlight, I will run. Obviously they're looking for someone to kill if they have a flashlight. Everyone knows that normal people don't need them.

4) I never allow sharp objects near my wrists or neck, and if for some reason one comes near me I have to literally keep myself from throwing up.

5) Whenever I go to a large event I'm paranoid that someones going to start a shooting rampage or blow something up. (All events with 50 or more people should have security, sort of like at airports, but more thorough, and all the guards would have missile launchers in case of an aerial attack)

I feel like that's probably all you can handle for now, because if foreign movies have taught me anything, it's that I have to bring out the interesting things in moderation so you don't lose your interest before we even get going. And like my personal trainer tells me every eight hours when I go to the gym, you have to be like a cheetah. They don't use all their energy at once. They pace themselves so they can go farther.





So just remember, if you see the light of a flashlight.... RUN. Like a cheetah.

Lite Ice

Something is wrong with people.

I don't know if it's cultural or societal or what the difference between those even is, but I know that there is something seriously messed up, and don't even get me started on groups of people. Once you get four or more people in a room it's like watching American Idol, everyone is trying to shine in a group of other astoundingly dull people and none of them are succeeding.

This may all sound very cynical, but you'll understand when I tell you what sparked this.

We went to Wendy's, I got an iced tea. No big deal, right? Wrong. Because after a couple minutes my large size cup was mysteriously empty of liquid. When I took the cap off I realized it, those Wendy's people had screwed me over. They'd convinced me through clever programming and subtle brainwashing that it was the best value to get the large, that you were getting so much more and paying so much less.

None of this is true. When I took off the lid I discovered it, they'd filled my cup to the very top with ice, so that in reality my cup only held about as much liquid as a child size would.

This brought to light several recurring issues.

1) American Idol has sucked since season four.

2) I have unresolved trust issues because the ending of Lost was terrible.

3) I've learned more life lessons from watching Sponge Bob than I have from reading books.

I don't know what any of that has to do with the rest of this post or why they were all television related (besides the fact that I'm bitter about how bad American Idol is), but I feel like you all should know what you're getting into.

So I guess this is goodbye, until the next time I need an excuse to not exercise.

Riley

Get Excited

Because this post is a big one.




And when I say excited, I don't mean like pretending to be excited when someone gives you something terrible for Christmas. Like a gift card only valid at an out of state restaurant or a book about a group of middle aged women having an exotic adventure. No, this is real.


I want you to get as excited as the elderly woman sitting a few rows in front of me who started yelling every time the werewolf in Twilight took his shirt off.
Anyways, what, might you ask, is the big freaking deal?



THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is the big deal:


http://www.facebook.com/pages/EatingForTwo/208972725805390?ref=ts#!/pages/EatingForTwo/208972725805390?sk=wall

I guess in some way or another I have now become invested in this blog considering its influence now spreads to two (pretty much meaningless) websites. We're taking over the world. If you're the first one to like the facebook page, I'll, umm... How about this, if someone actually likes the facebook page than I'll consider actually using it. Sounds like a good deal to me.


Before you go, take note of the fact that within these last two posts I have still yet to actually talk about anything. This may be a sign of the direction we're moving in.


Stay tuned for more,

Riley

Here we go.

I guess I have to get past it, that awkward first moment. We're like those people in a romantic comedy who reach for the same thing and our hands lightly touch. You feel slightly violated and you apologize and wish silently you'd never agreed to go out with me in the first place.

But now it's too late, this meaningful, albeit cliche moment has bonded us forever (or at least for the rest of the time you sit here reading this. Time that you will never get back, mind you).
Because this is the start of something potentially great...


...Or a complete failure, but we're going to stay optimistic for now since this is only the first post (or quite possibly the only post if I forget I even started this. It's happened before).


Before we get any further into this I'm gonna clear some things up.

One, I'm not pregnant (if that happens I'll be just as surprised as you), therefore this blog is not about being pregnant or eating for the health of both you and your child. I don't want to put you through another condescending "better than you" raising your children blog.

Two, this blog is not about obesity or some inspirational yet emotionally unstable battle against my weight. I (hope I) am at my healthy weight, so if that's what you were hoping for, you're outta luck. I just named the blog that because I say it now and then and I'm personally proud of its hilariousness.

To be honest, I can't really tell you what this blog is going to be about. I'll just tell you it's going to be a surprise, not only for you but for both of us... because I have no idea either.

If you feel like this isn't going anywhere, that's probably because it isn't. Maybe our hour and a half of love is over and the credits have started rolling (symbolism is cool. Tell yourself that until you believe it), so until next time, just lie to your friends about how much you liked this so you can seem as cool as possible.


Thanks for being awesome,




Riley


(I was talking to myself just then)