Sign up. Get posts in your email. Live happily ever after.

Archive of ‘reading & writing’ category

I Accidentally Worked Out And Almost Passed Out

I ran errands on Sunday. By my last errand, I had to pee. Luckily, I wasn’t far from home. I have an internal pee meter so I knew that I could make it.

I sped home. By the time I parked in front of my building, my pee situation was dire. I HAD to go. I grabbed my groceries and walked into my building. When I reached the elevator, of course it was on the fifth floor. I decided that I had no time for that and so I ran up the stairs. I live on the fifth floor. There were a lot of steps involved.

I was out of breathe by the 4th floor and by the time I reached the fifth, I was feeling dizzy and cross-eyed. It felt as though my brain just had a dance party and I had trouble focusing my eyes. I wobbled my way to the bathroom and had the most glorious pee since the last time I had to really go and made it home without an accident.

Afterwards I told Vinny about what happened. He said it was a sign I should work out more. I think it’s a sign that I’m allergic to excessive physical activity and should never do it again.

This can’t happen again. But it probably will.

dizzy girl

I’d Rather Be Luigi

Vinny grew out a beard because his facial hair sexes me up. But one day he decided he had enough. “Babe, I’m shaving this thing!” he told me. At first I was offended that he referred to my form of foreplay as “this thing.” But it wasn’t worth the fight (because hair grows) and so I just said ok.

I let him shave in peace but then I walked by and noticed he had shaved off everything except a mustache. It was so cute! “You should keep it!” I clapped in delight.


“You look like Mario! Can I be your Luigi?”

“Luigi? That’s a guy. They’re BROTHERS! You’re the princess, weirdo.”

Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

Yes, Luigi is a boy. And yes, Princess Peach is a girl. But here’s the thing: Mario and Luigi have all the fun. They get to go on exciting adventures that include mushrooms and capes that enable them to fly. They get to ride a dinosaur named T. Yoshisaur Munchakoopas! They are motivated and despite their failures, keep on keeping on. And the princess? She is stuck in some lair yelling all the time about how she needs to be rescued.

“Help me! Help me!” over and over again.

And it’s not like once Mario rescues the Princess that they live happily ever after. They don’t go off on a sexy, exotic vacation where they feed each other  organic grapes and sip champagne. No, the game ends and before we know it, there is another game where the stupid princess has been kidnapped again. You would think she would consider getting a better security team. And honestly, it seems like Mario cares more about the adventure than the rescue. Maybe Mario and Luigi aren’t even brothers. Maybe they’re “brothers.” Wink wink.

I’ve thought a great deal about this (clearly) and have found a solution. If Vinny is uncomfortable with me being the Luigi to his Mario, I will be the Luigiana to his Mario. Problem. Solved.




I Am George Clooney

I had the saddest dream the other night.

It started with me at a holiday party. The major details are hazy. I don’t know whose party it was or the location. I do know I am on the lower level of a restaurant. I immediately decide to go upstairs. I see people I know but they don’t see me.

Upstairs, I walk by a mini bar and towards the front of the room. On my way there, I see them, sitting towards the right. Jared Leto and George Clooney. Jared looks adorable and George looks older than I thought.

After I spot them, I look ahead and that is when I see my friend Susanna, surrounded by a group of girls I don’t know. I am SO excited to see Jared Leto and George Clooney but I don’t want to be a crazy stalker fan girl so all I do is mouth “OMG” to Susanna. She too wants to stay classy and so she mouths “I KNOW!” back. Our eyes look wild with excitement over the celebrities grazing near us.

It is at this point that I realize Vinny is not with me. I have to contact him and let him know of my celebrity sighting and also to see where he is. I take out my phone and attempt to text him. I’m having trouble pressing the numbers (because for some reason I can’t text in my dreams) and so I decide to try to get George Clooney’s attention instead. Not in a creepy way but more of a “Omg, George looked in my direction and now he knows I exist” kind of way.

I approach the bar that is 5 five feet away. George is now being his charming self and is flirting with the bartender. I make a comment about their flirtation, hoping he will pay attention to me. Does he? No. No he doesn’t.

I try again but it’s as if I’m not even there.  He doesn’t even look past me. Nothing. Nada. Zilch attention from George.  I am offended.

Dejected, I walk back to Susanna and think about how I’m going to get home. Suddenly, I know I am on the Upper East Side. I think about York Street (Is that where I am?!) and wonder how much an Uber would cost to get home. I think about how much I don’t want to take the train at this hour. All logical thinking.

Then I wake. The first thought I have is about how ok I am with George dissing me. It’s not like we’d have much to talk about anyway. He is about to marry a smart lady, one that I could never compete with, not even in my dreams.

How fucking unfair is that?

I have a status call with my boss first thing in the AM. I tell her about how George Clooney dissed me and  how distraught I am about it. She feels bad for me and mentions Carl Jung, former professional dream interpreter. This Jung fella believes that we are all characters in our dreams. In other words,  I AM GEORGE CLOONEY.

I wonder why bougie me (George) doesn’t like peasant me (Me)? Then I wonder why my subconscious won’t leave me alone. Then I wonder why I can’t just be normal and have dreams that are more like this?

Amy Poehler George Clooney

Letter To Myself

This is the first of hopefully many creative writing prompts to help me rid my life of writer’s block. It is a letter to myself as per Poets & Writers. Written on August 23, 2014 

Dear Diana,

Hello! How are you, gorgeous?

I am doing well. Just living life, ya know? Got my hair done today and am going to a wedding tomorrow. I guess you already know that though because, well, you’re me! And I’m you! Haha. Oh, we’re so funny.

My message to you this week is to stop being such a cry baby. Stop making excuses and get back to working out. Only 20 minutes! You can’t possibly be so lazy that you can’t find 20 minutes. Actually, since I know you, I know you can be that lazy but I encourage you not to be. Be wild and give it a whirl.

In addition, I hope you strive to be a better person this week. Please stop making rude comments to slow walkers. Remember the last time you made a snide remark to that guy walking down the train stairs at sloth speed? And then once you got down to the platform you realized he was injured and on crutches? Then, because the slow walker had all of your attention, you accidentally boarded the M train and didn’t realize it until you were in Williamsburg. You don’t want that happening again. Two words: instant-karma. You know it well but perhaps it’s time for a trial separation.

I have more to say but will hold off for now. I think it’s safe to say we’ve both had enough.

May you have a good week, smile, and don’t forget to write back.


The World Is Sometimes A Terrible Place

animal gif

Hello, everyone. As usual, it’s been a while since my last post. I guess my only explanation is that I have writers block. I can say I don’t have time, but that would be a lie.

Writers block is a legit thing. Nothing has inspired me. My muse has gone on an extended vacation. I don’t know why this is happening but I’ve been doing some writing exercises to get the flow back. I also did some sort of creativity rain dance thing that I hope will help.

In the meantime, I will share with you my feelings about the world. It’s fucked up. Straight up, fucked up. The internet doesn’t need another asshole with an opinion and so I will only say this: It is upsetting when innocent people (and animals) die. Ferguson, ISIS, James Foley, Israel/Palestine, Ukraine, Monsanto, the  rapidly declining elephant population in Africa. The list can and will go on. The only solution for me is to just watch a ton of cute animal videos to get my mind off the real shit that is going on. My fragile mind just can’t handle it sometimes, ya dig? 

Then theres the Ice Bucket Challenge. I participated. It made me feel popular and like I contributed to a good cause. I doused myself with cold water and donated $100. Isn’t it crazy that is takes something viral like a bucket challenge to get people to do something charitable? Don’t get me wrong – I consider myself a generous person but I have never even donated to MS research. (And probably won’t, for a few reasons not relevant to this post.)

Moving along. Vinny and I got a cat. His name is Nosey and we rescued him from a life of cage living. That makes him a cage free cat, doesn’t it? As a major lover of dogs, I am finding myself in the midst of an identity crisis. Am I a dog person? A cat person? I suppose I’m both but since we’ve only had Nosey for 2 weeks, I will refrain from wearing any adorable cat clothes. For now.

Ninja and Nosey

cat shirt That’s all for now. Hopefully the creativity rain dance works and there will be more from me in the near future.


Dear Solange

Dear Solange,

You so angry, girl. You like, really, really angry. Like maybe  you need to be sedated cray cray angry. And I’m DYING to know why.

Like most of America, I have watch the video (multiple times, and what?)  and have come to conclude that maybe you were defending your sister, Bey. The fact that she was just standing there to the side like nothing was happening indicates that she was in agreement with your actions. By not stopping you, she was silently cheering you on.

The thing is that I really need to know why you behaved this way. Did Jay cheat on Bey? Or was it something petty like he made fun of your hair and you were high on the sauce so you decided to assault him? Or maybe you’re just bi-polar and forgot your meds, which is A-OK.(The meds, not that you forgot to take them.) Whatever the case, I NEED TO KNOW.

You owe us, the American people who buy your sisters albums, an explanation. But I’m sure if you don’t give us one, TMZ will. I can’t wait.

I should write more

Hi. It’s me. I’m back.

I’ve been away and I am sorry. I realize this is a disservice to you and so I’ve commuted to posting more. I sometimes have trouble keeping up with posts because I just have nothing interesting to say. Going forward, I no longer care about whether or not I write an interesting blog post. It’s going to be all willy nilly from now on.

Here is an update about the current happenings around my way.

  • I still have MS.
  • I got a job now. I work here. I love it.
  • I’m strategically drinking water again.
  • I like the way “I’m writing a book” sounds so I tell people I am.
  • I stopped biting my nails but then I started biting them again. Major WTF.
  • Slow walkers agitate me.
  • I watch Super Soul Sundays on OWN. Whilst attempting to find my truth, I ran in to a predicament. I realized my truth is that like my soul a little charred. But I still watch, hoping.
  • I love to read. A good book is everything.

And that’s all for now. See you soon.


On The Bitches And Bros Who Befriend The Burn

double sneeze

Anytime I see a chick update her status with “I love the burn!” I automatically assume she has a UTI and is having trouble urinating. Alas, this is not the case. Usually when a chick loves the burn, she is publically explaining that she loves the feeling of her muscles ripping inside her body for growth.

I don’t love the burn. Not the type when I have a UTI, not the type when I accidentally pour scalding water on myself and especially not when I’m working out.

I understand there is a neural association with the burn being a sign of success but honestly, I’d love the sign of success without the burn. I’d love the success without the discomfort of achy thighs and the difficulty walking up and down the stairs. I mean, there must be a better way to get fit without these uncomfortable side effects, which is what they are. People who love the burn have simply successfully convinced themselves that they enjoy it and more power to them. I am not there yet.

I have recently become more intimate with the side effects of exercise. Why? It’s not because I want to feel this ridiculous burn. It’s because summer is coming up and I plan on wearing provacative dresses and I want to look and feel hotter than Cholula. Nay. I want to look and feel better than everyone else. Because isn’t that the REAL goal? I mean, would you feel the burn if you didn’t have to? Would you feel the burn if the result wasn’t a side-by-side comparison of the old you and new and improved you? Would you feel the burn if you got zero likes on your carefully crafted side-selfies? NOPE. You’d be like, fuck this burn, I’m eating cake.

So, in the spirit of having a hot bod, I offer you this honest look into working out. This may or may apply to me.

You’re better than everyone else who is not squating at this moment.
Deep Lunge
Oh yeah, baby. That selfie is going to look real hot.
This effort better get me some attention on Facebook.
Deep lunge
Because this fucking burn sucks.
Oh yeah, I’m working out.
Deep Lunge
Like a BOSS
I can’t wait to be uncomfortable all night in a tight dress and heels.
Deep Lunge
This uncomfortable workout will be worth it then.
Fuck, this hurts. I hate you, burn. I hate you so much.
Deep Lunge
But I do this because I love to look hot.
But I also like to encourage others with my motivating messages.
Deep Lunge
Just kidding. I wish everyone stays fat and untoned.
Burn, baby burn.
deep lunge
Instagram, here i come.
Pushup & Plank
I hope people ask me where the bathroom is because my guns will point them in the right direction.
There goes that shitty burn again. But I’m committed. HURRAH! Because I want to…
look hot
for my husband
and everyone else who has eyes
Because one like just isn’t enough.
Plank, hold for 45, cry.

Repeat x 3

#ilove(whenpeopleknowhowmuchilove)the burn #noyogaerrdamnday #fuckyouworkingout

What’s your workout? Please do share in the comments.



On (Not) Running Marathons

Pam Anderson Marathon

Pamela Anderson @ The Marathon

Hello there and happy Monday! Hope everyone had a joyful weekend and used their extra hour wisely. I used my extra hour sitting in traffic because I forgot about the Marathon. It wasn’t so bad. I was driving along 3rd Avenue as the runners raced on 4th Avenue so I got to see little people speeding by. It was inspiring to see them go. It takes a lot of dedication and committment to run a marathon and I loudly fast clap for all those who participated.

Which brings me to point out that I’ve always wanted to run a marathon. If I ever do it will probably be an MS race but I’m going to be honest – I don’t actually enjoy running (bad ankles, dislike being active) and therefore can’t find the proper dedication and commitment to actually  train and participate. However, I am searching for a hobby that will help me feel as though I am running a marathon. Below are some options I’m willing to further look into.

1) Kickboxing – Sometimes I just want to kick some ass. Kickboxing will not only be a healthy way for me to get out any aggression but I will also learn how to kick literal ass. In addition to completing a marathon, I’ve also always dreamed of kickboxing my way out of a room full of armed Ninja’s, just like on TV.

2) Bowling – I am a superb bowler. In high school, we had the option of skipping regular gym class in favor of a more fun and active sport. We could choose between tennis and bowling. I took both but really my claim to fame was my time at bowling. I am proud to announce that my team and I came in at 8th place. And it was all because of me! I insisted on having proof of our superior sportsmanship and we got a plaque, which was was one of my finest moments in high school. I felt very powerful and full of endorphines, just like marathon runners must feel.

3) Knitting – I think it would be pretty cool to learn how to knit. I’d make scarves, sweaters and whatever else people make with yarn. Mittens? Mittens! Even though it’s a sedentary activity, I still consider learning something new a work out. The stress of having to figure out how to hold the needles would definitely manifest into physical symptoms like increased heart rate and forehead sweat so it’s on the list.

4) Walking – Is there such a thing as walking marathons? Because I’d be awesome at that.

5) Bike Riding – Vinny and I started riding bikes this past summer and it was great fun. I learned that I am really good at it since I no longer smoke cigarettes. I also learned that I am terrified of traffic and prefer riding on sidewalks. Unfortunately it’s getting cold and because I am sensitive to the elements, I have retired my bike for the season.

I don’t know what hobby I will take up but preparing a list of potential activities is the first step. I’m leaning towards just taking a nap because picking a hobby is more stressful than I thought. Your turn: are you a marathon runner? If so, how do you feel? If not, what is your hobby?

i'm too fancy ms blog

Enter your email address:Delivered by FeedBurner

1 2 3 4 6