Learn to Swerve.

downward spiral. at least it's not a perm.

eVer notice that the one dude in the cul-de-sac who seems the most likely to help you with your groceries, is the one who's wife hates you the most? 

no thanks. I'll carry in my own butt wipe and string cheese.

I'm not sure if it's my newfound love of just being myself and not trying to please a world of women who will never actually be pleased  with me, or the realization that I'm 27 years old and no amount of judgmental behavior is going to change who I am. Britney said it best when she said, love me hate me say what you want about me. Then again when you sell out the MGM in the first 3 minutes it's a little easier to sing songs about "if you seek amy." 

Thanks for the vent Ruth. Have anything we actually care about to discuss? Why yes. I do. 

I've gone and done something that I dare say I never thought I could do. No. I haven't opened up an edible panty store. Soon though.

I've taken out my weight in student loans, and I've done the necessary paper-work to become an official college student. I thought long and hard about what to wear on my first day of school, and finally decided on some Abercrombie 2 sizes too small sweatpants, and a matching I brake for seals hoodie. AFterall, I will be attending online. NO need to go all  out.  I'll save that for virtual graduation.

I've wanted to go back to college since the first time I stuck my hand down the commode to retrieve something that shouldn't have been there in the first place. I however realized early on that it wasn't going to be an easy task, and back then, when computers were still something you had to have an entire room dedicated to for storage, it just didn't seem plausible. Lucky for me, the introduction of college to the web is about at prevalent as Hannah Montana footwear in an elementary school gym class. Therein making my quest for knowledge, and a higher social standing, that much easier to come by. NOt that being an unfit mother of 4 who's only release is the hourly updates to her facebook and twitter statuses isn't fulfilling. SOmetimes. YOu just need more.

(Speaking of twitter. I'm shamefully plugging my own. I figure with Britney up to 949,000, and Oprah well on her way to matching her followers with her worth on the New York Exchange, I  might as well get my share of the twitter pie. I'll be thrilled to reach 50.  http://twitter.com/mikeruth427)

So. For those of you who don't facebook, and haven't been subjected to the uploading of my current time wasting shenanigans. I'll take this time to update you as quickly as possible.

1. This is me. Now. The beginning of my weight-loss journey.

I'd key some touching theme music, ala Eye of the Tiger, but I'm sadly html retarded, and it might interfere with the rest of the post. 

2. I'm still cleaning the scrapbook room. I've submitted my photos to clean house. They responded with. HA. hahaha. REgretfully yours. Clean house. I'm not giving up. I never do. I may still be searching for red carpet with my pacemaker, but I will finish. 

3. My kids are still adorable. As if that was even a question. 

They find the time once a day to make me take back my utterances  of who are these kids and why are they calling me mom. 

4. I'm still trying to potty train the worlds most feral, adorable 4 year old, and having ZERO success. I'm pretty sure OJ's Lawyer has more chance of getting him out on good behavior than I do of getting this girl to PRe-K sans huggies. I need HELP. I've never had the issues I'm having with her in any of my other children. She's just, how do I put it. Different. Absolutely. Different. She's beautiful. She's funny. She's smart. (she's so my kid) but she has no basis in reality! I realize neither do I, but I'm 27. It's alot more socially acceptable. And I don't have to bring a pull-up for my play dates. She does.

I'm having her seen by the school again this week to see what they can suggest. She has been evaluated so many times, and it all boils down to being stubborn. And having no desire to grow up. I've been there. I'm still there. I can't really fault her for that.

As you can see, my life doesn't change much from day to die. I attempt to cook. I light things on fire. I try to get skinny, I eat my weight in Recess peanut butter cups. I try to accomplish more, I end up signing up for yet another absolute time wasting device and downloading it's comparable application from the app store. I'm pretty much going downhill. Which is fantastic when I'm on skis, not so great when my victory lies at the top. I'm not giving up mind you. That would be redonkulous. I'm just opting for more. Finding balance that doesn't include yoga positions. Finding happiness, that isn't based on another human, and finding the real me. Not the photoshopped version I'm so fond of putting on display.

Thanks to all those who support my blogging, or lack thereof. And those who keep my trudging forward in a time when backwards seems so much easier. 

I dedicate my successes to you. And should I not succeed. I'll need my virtual trophy back. Those things arn't cheap you know.

Like a cow to the slaughter...

This is me. The cow.  

The Slaughter. Would be the scale.  

One might think, but Ruth? Haven't you been dedicating yourself whole heartedly to working out, running like a Jonas Brother being chased by the mother of a 12 year old school girl who didn't get a ticket? 

Why yes readers. I have. So why, one might ask again, are you as down trodden as that same school gir's mother who never did catch that blasted Jonas brother?

BEcause, bloggerites. It's not working! It is in fact, having the very opposite effect. I cannot for any reason, other than God truly hating my very existence, think of a reason that I would be gaining weight? 

Stop right there. I know. Muscle weighs more than fat. But let me assure you. I've seen the Rock. I've Seen JOhn Cena. And what I've got going on down there. Doesn't even come close to resembling muscle. 

I'm fat. 

I'm still fat. so much so, that this conversation was able to transpire one evening during a harmless gathering of friends...

ME: You know what I think is so funny?

Group: Besides Kevin Federline still considering a career as an artist? What?

Me: I never get hit on by guys. EVER. I am not seeking it mind you, but I don't ever get hit on by them? I do however seem to attract females like MC Hammer attracted bad debts. I don't get it?

Group. (Mostly one guy in group): You know why that is don't you? 

Me: No, weird bald guy in group who I really wasn't talking to. Why?

Guy: (notice the lack of group reply) Well, you are kind of sexy, but you're also fat. Girls like personality. Guys like the appearance. Lose some weight. And you'll be set...

ME: (holding iPhone in such a way that should the voices in my head telling me to stab him, don't subside, I can thrust it at his jugular and run without so much as a missed call). Um? Ok. Thanks? I think?

yeah. I know. 

WHAT??? So that's it. I'm fat. I'm not as fat as I once was but apparently, I am still too round to elicit response from males. Were I actively seeking, I might be in trouble.

If I were not so intent on losing this weight before my 10 year reunion, ( I know what you're thinking, and yes, I am only 21. I graduated when I was 11. No worries), I would just say forget it. But I can't. I have to do this. It's that important to me. I will be the girl who looks better at her reunion than she did at her graduation. It helps a lot that the only photo still around of me on my graduation gives me the appearance of a girl who was unable to be in the suns presence during her 17 year stay on the earth, and apparently was also forbidden to use a hair brush? I'm thanking my lucky stars we were required to wear gowns, because there is no telling what ensemble I opted for in order to WOW my 356 other classmates, who could have cared less.

In other news, that isn't weight related, and yes, occasionally I have that. 

I've begun the daunting task of getting settled into my scrapbook room. I took the opportunity to utilize this time when my children are home all day, and the rain sees the need to grace us with it's presence, to put them to work. I've always known my kids were built for hard labor. They have their fathers muscles, and my dedication to excuse making as to why they can't use them. 

Bribery was however on my side. And we lugged 4 more totes into the room. I began the task, by making "piles" placing things of a similar nature, into groups with other things of that same similar nature. And I've come to realize. Alot of scrapbook stuff looks alike. Either that, or I'm just really bad at making piles...

So. THis is what we have. 

 Before. And After. HA. 

Yeah. I'm not funny. I have serious issues with organizing. I try. I mean well. But sadly after 3 days, and 100 trips up the stairs with buckets full of crap. I have this to show for it. Woo hoo. Buttons. I know. BAby steps. That's the same approach I take to all my life's goals I have no intention of ever meeting. I say baby steps, and people assume I'm making progress. Usually. I'm not.

I don't know. I mean well. ASide from the no scrap Zone being in dire straights. The rest of life seems to be, well following suit. I need a career. A serious one. It appears that useless house wife who spends her days filling out myspace and facebook surveys in an attempt to forget about the laundry that is piling up faster than evidence against OJ Simpson, is actually not a very lucrative venture. My college idea was fantastic, but they booed my idea of trading scrapbook paper for tuition, so until which time I find a concrete source to pay for my college. I'm back to square 1. Which would actually imply I had left square zero. 

I have not. So there you have it folks. My happiness was short lived. My pants are still just as tight. My Scrap HQ, or ground zero as I like to call it, is just as messy, and my desire to go on has all  but been squashed. I know. Woe is me. Go eat a twinkie Ruth. Quit lamenting

 

Perhaps I shall. In the mean time. Keep your eyes on the prize. Whatever yours may be. I'm shooting for a size 10. not a size 1( ). That's me. Falling out of my pants. Just in case you wondered. I'm still here. Probably on facebook. If you need me. Feel free to contact me. 

Bloggingly Yours. Ruthimus. 

As if...

Their Blonde hair, blue eyes, amazingly goofy personalities wasn't enough to make them bonded for life...

I'm pretty sure the fact they're all half monkey would be enough. 

I might be waging a small war with myself over what to do with this life of mine. 

But one thing is for certain. I have already accomplished making them. And I'm pretty sure nothing will ever top that...