Tag Archives: drink

You Dirty Cheat

24 Mar


The longer I give up a vice, the worse it gets.  Giving up all but one of ’em magnifies the whole thing beyond ridiculous.  In my final stretch of this nonsense (ending Sunday), I’ve been reduced to pretending I’m getting away with something bad, when I’m really not.

I’m not the noble type.  I’d rather feel like I’m breaking the rules any day, over martyring over it.  Unless I can spin it to make you laugh, in which case, I’m a whore for an audience so I’ll take whatever I can get away with.

…It is because of this that I entered the weirdest part of detox, sometime late last week: Pretending I’m cheating when I’m really not…just to psych myself into accepting the loss and shutting up about it.

“What the hell does that even mean?” you might ask yourself?

…It means dressing things up naughty, in order to fake out your brain that they are naughty, so you can reasonably consider yourself not really missing anything at all.

I am lying to myself on purpose and pretending I haven’t caught on yet.

How fucking lame is that?

…It started with fizzy water.

…I’ve been drowning in it.  It has long been my lack-of-soda fake-out, giving me bubbles that I miss, with zero nutritional cost on the diet end.  Other than the totally unsatisfying side affect of a water burp versus a Coke one, it seems to do the job most of the time. But it stopped filling the void in week two this time. So one night, for kicks, I filled up a champagne flute with it, and popped in few frozen berries set afloat.

…Turns out, the glass is 9/10th of my brain craving.

…I tested this heavily across all last week. Non-fat milk in a tumbler doubles as a White Russian if you sip not gulp.

…Apple and cranberry juice in a wine glass taste 75% naughtier than when not in one.

…Hot black tea with enough straight lemon juice to drown in, and a shot of cyan pepper makes a serviceable hot toddy on a rainy day…only for the love of god don’t try it an hour before bed.

There is, however, no pretence on EARTH that can fix the lack of whiskey.

…But, peppered and grilled garbanzo and kidney beans can give you the same general texture as chicken in a bowl of rice.

…Diced up colored bell peppers make even the most boring brown and pasty of foods look 300 times more appetizing.

…Steaming veggies in garlic to al dente makes shoving pound bags of em down your gullet a hell of a lot more interesting than raw salad number 456.

…After this, I frankly never want to see a piece of naked fruit again…but dried or in a roughly blended juice with some veg can get it down…if it is a sugar substitute must…and keep you from wanting to hit over a convenience store for a Milky Way bar.

There is no cure for pizza.

…But you can in lieu of a burger with a warm turkey sandwich…hot meat (pardon the expression) is hot meat…you can wig your brain to believe it’s almost anything.

…Especially when you’re desperate.

Desperation also can replace brown gluten-free protein powder in water as chocolate milk.

…Make you think the 12 supplement and vitamin pills you pop every morning, full of various weeds and homeopathic hoo-de-haws, will expand and fill your tummy for hours.

…That burping up broccoli means you’re totally in shape.

…That NOT cheating for real, at all, even a little bit, naturally means you will finally drop that sixth fucking pound because: SCIENCE!

…That all the clay masks and lotions and steam showers will de-age you by 10 years, instantly.

…That it’s totally normal for your stomach to growl sonatas during quiet scenes in rehearsal.

…That the pregnant gnome eating 300 times a day to the point that she smells like pizza sauce and baked goods permanently, means that (eventually) her tummy will out-protrude yours.

…These are the lies I have been forcing upon myself.

…They are getting more outrageous as time passes.

…If I were doing this for 30 days instead of 20, I’d be wandering around in my fat pants again, pretending that they fitted like a glove only two days ago, and hula hoop the waist band to everyone I see…just to show how much weight I’d lost in only 48 hours.

…I’d dye tofu red and pretend it’s sweet and sour pork on rice.

…I’d throw lemon juice in water and call it a dirty martini.

…In short: the ending could not come any sooner or last-second than it is.

And I am glad.

Because, even for an actor, I’m running out of lies to pretend for myself.

…And also, I’m not so sure I’m buying the ones I’ve already been telling, to begin with.


She Withdrawls A Little….

16 Mar


It’s like a social warzone out there today. 

…After going back and forth with cloudy/sunny days across two weeks, it decided to rain today, and apparently piss everyone off in the meantime.

I’m not in a great mood either, but that’s beside the point.

Mine is based purely on being mid-day-seven without sugar, salt, fried food and liquor.  I feel this is a LEGITIMATE excuse to be cantankerous…definitely more than just “it’s raining.” Especially in this state.

…Everywhere I’ve gone today, people have been dicks.  Cutting you off in traffic…not once, but four or five times.  Kids throwing fits at the pet store and screaming at the top of their lungs while you’re stuck in a line that stretches past the adopted pets and amphibians all the way to the freaking bird food section, as the parents continue to ignore it completely like they’re deaf. A lady who wants to debate every single charge amount on her receipt at Bed, Bath & Beyond…they didn’t have any purses I wanted even a little bit at Marshalls or Ross…and then the topper: waiting in TWO Starbucks lines, with cutters.

…I fucking hate cutters. It just outrages me!

…I hate it even MORE when they are standing between me and the LAST CRUTCH ON EARTH allowed to me: a cup of black coffee.

The first time, the drive thru line was coming from so many directions, I let it slide and moved onto the next drive thru, further down the freeway…but by the SECOND time, I was ready to jump out of my car, rip open their door, and shove a bottle of Beta water conditioner up where the sun don’t shine.  Fucking Audi assholes and their goddamn cookie Frappuccinos!

…Now FINALLY I am home. Where I apparently should have just stayed to begin with.

I knew the pjs were using an old seduction line, but what works, works…and I should have just listened to the damn know-it-alls, and not even gone out today.

…Instead, I’m ticked off, with a half a thing of coffee left (as the Barista didn’t put the lid on right, yeah…you can guess how that turned out)…and now I’m off to make something green, that I don’t wanna eat, but don’t have a choice about, as it is all that exists in my house now, which is not yogurt…!!

…And “fruit on the bottom” can just kiss my ass!

(Rips shirt with giant coffee stain off, throws it on the floor, slams a chug of what’s left in the cup, and marches to the kitchen, indignantly.)

FUCKING DIETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


She’s Branding

28 Aug


I feel like I just bought a cow and poked a searing hot branding iron at her ass.

She Writes A Little, now has it’s own dedicated Email and Facebook page with a line-up of materials coming your way should you choose to partake in them.  Mostly, I haven’t done this yet because I’ve been terrified since the last “outing,” that someone would sniff me out again.  But I think I’ve got the matter handled, secured and ready to launch out into the webosphere.

…The other “hold-back,” was what in the hell I’d do with a dedicated Email and FB page once I got them. 

This is the part where I drop heavy hints to people who might want to hire me to write things.  Don’t feel shy.  You should really give me a buzz and we can talk.  I can write serious, academic, literary, script and research article stuff too, you know.  I’d prove it by showing you my resume, but that would kinda blow my cover a little bit.  So you’ll just have to take my word for it.

…Meanwhile, as I anxiously await the many job opportunities blowing up my email inbox even now, I’d like to shift focus to the FB page a moment, if you will.

I’ve spent hours (2), tonight on my couch, deriving a cunning plan wherein scheduled materials will crop up on it, each and every day. Each day of the week will have a special post all it’s own, having nothing at all to do with the blog…(only sometimes)…and may or may not help me think of further writing ideas to expand upon, so as members you may or may not get a super special insider peek. It will be themed like this:

SWAL’s Facebook Datebook

Mon – Dames We Dig
(Dames we love and why. Inspiration in spades, these chicks got it to spare.)

Tues – Books To Read
(Book list favs from Hollywood, and bios and theatre and history. If I love it, you’ll love it…I mean, my God, we’re practically twins.)

Wed – Mmmmen We Love
(Famous fellas who get it done right, and why. With special emphasis on boys who have voices you could lick like a spoon. )

Thurs – Strange story of the day
(Weird but true news items or personal anecdotes in tiny blips. Like your own little Freak Show ticket, every week.)

Fri – Fetish Feast
(People, theatre, food, film, and lit within the fetish world. I am dedicated to searching it out…no matter what gross pop-ups thusly occur.)

Sat – Sins We Partake
(Bad-for-you or naughty favorite booze, places, delectable dishes, naughty reads, and “didja knows.”)

Sun – Saving Graces
(Quiet retreats, mental clean up, relaxing movies, books, happy place listings of “the greatest hits.”)

…At some point I’m prob’ly gonna need to come up with a better pen name, as well. Because “SWAL” prob’ly won’t sell a whole hell of a lotta books. It sorta sounds like the acronym to a disaster relief fund or hybrid disease or something. Maybe I’ll hold a contest to name me…like MGM did for Joan Crawford. And then I’ll thank the winner personally in my hypothetical book when it’s published. And maybe ship them some of this:

…Because I’m a hell of a lot nicer than Joan Crawford ever was. All she ever gave out was sex and wire hanger welts.*


* Note to self: Cross reference Crawford under Thursday through Saturday. And maybe Monday. I mean, lets be real.

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