WHERE'S THE BEEF?

Lola Jonesing for Ice Cream
Originally uploaded by agentzoey

We're being held hostage in our home. If you hear from us in the usual time period call for reinforcements! The four-legged members of our family have taken over. First I started noticing our language and conversations change. Instead of the usual, "Dinner is good mom" or, "Could you please pass the salad?" I would hear, "Could you watch my food for me so the dogs don't eat it?" or as Bean said last night, "I can't go to the bathroom because Lola will eat my food!" It has progressively gotten worse. We are now becoming obsessive/compulsive about making sure NO FOOD is accessible to these thieves. I shoot up in bed to ask J, "Did you put all the food away?" The kids ask me before we leave the house, "Did we leave the cereal box out?" I've succumb to hiding food in the oven only to turn it on days later and have to explain to the neighbors that no, our house is not on fire. Last night, the neurotic, evil, spaz of a dog Chloe ate 8 donuts out of a box on the counter. That was a fragrant evening. I haven't even mentioned the stealing of snacks out of my purse, eating leftover food off the plates in the sink, holes in the socks, the dish towels that end up in the yard, the de-eyeballing of stuffed animals and the chewing of 500 thread ct. duvet covers. I'm too exhausted to go on. Caesar Milan. We need you! Pleeeeeeze?

RESOLVE

re⋅solve
   /rɪˈzɒlv/
verb, -solved, -solv⋅ing, noun
–verb (used with object)
1. To come to a definite or earnest decision about; determine (to do something): I have resolved that I shall...

So it begins. The juncture each year in which we ponder ways to make ourselves or our existence better. I started this post with the full intention of revealing the softer side of me. How I was going to find more meaning in moments, unearth the fundamental good in human kind and deepen relationships through existential conversations. Then *ding* reality hit as a pain in my neck (literally) and I'm thinking "who is this sentimental pansy and what happened to the REAL me?"

I have long debunked resolutions as silly little lies we tell ourselves. I saw the intentions at face value as honorable, but when scratched below the surface, wishes and wants seemed to be hollow with no self actuating plan. As a life coach and a fitness trainer I heard more resolutions dealing with body weight, beauty and money. I started to get cynical.

Why resolutions? I mean, do we just want to set ourselves up for failure? Isn't it a self-fulfilling prophecy to say we're going to do something (or not do something) that goes against the very fiber of our being like "I will stop eating chocolate," when the cabinet is stocked with Hersheys and once the thought of obstaining enters our brain we can think of nothing other than chocolate? The definition of insanity?

Oh, but I too bought in to this idea of New Years Resolutions (who thought of them anyway? I must Google it). I even tried using reverse psychology on myself. 1. Eat as much as you want of whatever you want. 2. Do NOT exercise whatever you do. 3. Smile less. But, dude? Where's my car? Why do I have to trick myself into accomplishing these goals? And unless I missed a form of new age mind control, I can't convince myself that a rice cake tastes like Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream.

Where is the depth of reality? I understand to the fullest extent that if we ourselves are not happy, we can't give well to others. But at the end of the day what really makes us feel fulfilled? Is it our beauty? Our possessions? Family?

Cue sappy segment: How about finding a reason for being - a purpose beyond our appearance, possessions and status? There ARE things I want to try to do more of, less of, better or worse this year. Too many. Be a better mom, cherish all the little moments, save money, finish school, do more charitable work, get healthier, write gooder, eat less Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream. (Typical type-A bitch, can't you just be happy with who you are and what you have?)


I'm trying to find the answers here, really. But, no sooner than I type this sentence my daughter screams frenetically that her brother hurt her, it's an hour past her bedtime, the dog is chewing the eyes out of Luke the stuffed Lab, the dishes are piled in the sink, on the counter, the table and absolutely nothing in my house is in any semblance of order. And me? I burst into laughter. Laughter about the crap, this shit in our lives that can weaken us if we let it, mortify us if we choose and cause us to conjure up resolutions that just don't make sense for our lives. And in this moment as pure chaos in ensuing, I'm laughing. And it becomes clear. No more resolutions, just laughter.

George and TI

I let someone down. Actually two people, friends, but one of them is dead now. I hate being so blunt but that's the reality and I don't want to sugar coat it. When I found out about the death and the cancer, the guilt came back in a huge, tidal rush. Guilt so strong that it was all I could feel for a long time. As usual I became angry with myself for all of the things I didn't do, the phone calls I didn't make, the forgiveness I didn't give. I vilified myself, continually asking in my head, "Why couldn't you have been a better person?" Why couldn't I have been a better person?

I believe we all go through a period in our emotional maturation I will call "George" because I'm too lazy to think of a psychologically more appealing, yet intellectually amusing name. George is a process of relating all of our mistakes in a way that rationalizes them so that we feel less guilt, feel justified for our actions and allows us to "save face." It's kind of an ego centric phase that some of us never evolve away from. To grow out of George requires honesty, not just with others but most importantly with ourselves. It's a deeper kind of honesty that makes us let go of looking stupid or wrong and admit our real feelings in real time. Most of us can realize our real feelings about for instance what a friend did that pissed us off, but it takes a little time and emotional intelligence. At first we think we must let it go because we're supposed to and everyone will be happy if we do. But we can't stop thinking about "The Issue" (TI) and we keep thinking about it, until we either rationalize again why we should let go of TI or realize we don't like TI and start to resent the friend and ourselves for feeling that way. The process could then go one of two ways: A. We are honest with ourselves and in turn use a tactful, loving way to communicate our feelings about TI to the friend. There might be an argument - or not, awkwardness - or not. But then it resolves and...leaves our consciousness. Poof. Or B. We continue to justify and/or deny our feelings without being honest. We continue this "face-saving", right-fighting mentality and most likely feel resentment and guilt - forever. Or at least a really long time.

I think at age 37 I'm learning how to move past George. I'm realizing it's not always all about me. The past is in the past. You never know what life will bring and all the other cliches that actually have a good point. A good friend of mine described friendships in a very eloquent way. She said, "There are Journey Friends and Life-Long Friends. Life-Long Friends can come and go, in and out of your life but they will always be there for you and you for them. Journey friends are only meant to be there for a certain part of your life - you experience a journey with them and that's it, you both move on."
I let my friends down. My friends that should have been Life-Long Friends, but I wasn't out of George and didn't communicate TI so they became Journey Friends. They should have been Life Friends. But Life got cut short.

Correspondence

*warning: several references to the rear-end and its parts. Not for the weak of heart.

Dear Dr. Pain In The Ass,
I want to thank you for my recent sigmoid-whatchmacallit. I've had a few but WOW, this one was really one to remember. Your assistant told me he had pain medication to give me if I needed it. He said I would be asleep anyway but promised the drugs were ready and waiting in case I said "Ouch." Then you, Dr. PITA, came in and we had a nice chat while you injected the sedative into my IV. It went like this: First injection, "Feel Anything?" "Nope." Second injection, "Feel anything now?" "Nope." Third and final injection, "Feel anything?" "Nope, should I?" "OK, let's start!" That's when I had a thought bubble. Why am I awake? Oh well, the Doc must know what he's doing. Suddenly, I felt a unique sensation I never imagined I would feel:

SOMEONE PERFORMING LIPOSUCTION UP MY RECTUM!

I wouldn't be so freaking mad if my ass actually ended up smaller.
Seriously? Were you looking at my colon or shredding it because that was the most excruciating pain like no other I have ever felt.
And did I get the flippin' pain meds? That would have just been too logical.
I fell asleep after it was all over - probably from the shock of having had rectal lipo.
Oh, and I think I left something behind (no pun intended) in your office. Yeah, a piece of my dignity (and maybe a piece of my ass - or so it feels). Lost. Gone forever.

Most Sincerely,
Someone you owe an major apology and a seriously large tube of Preparation H

Since I still have a sense of humor:

Facebook - Not Just College Gossip Anymore

As I talk to friends and colleagues about Facebook (don't forget I am of the age group, according to the original Facebook crowd, "Old People Invading Facebook") I notice generally two schools of thought. Those who use Facebook to get in touch with friends, post photos, poke a person or a hundred and those who won't touch Facebook because of its annoying reminders, lack of anonymity, time consumption and well, they're just too cool for school.

I agree, there are times you want to b*tch slap (not my term, you CAN really do this virtually, of course on Facebook - FB) or "throw a sheep" at those people who send numerous daily wall posts and dare I say useless status updates (I'm just as guilty). But step back a moment and look at the revolution that is Facebook/social media and those using it as a change agent for Cause Related Marketing (CRM). Many of us woke up election morning to hundred's of thousands of status updates stating that they voted. The ultimate version of peer pressure via social networking. Did it work? I submit that it did! Voter turnout supports this. And it doesn't stop there...Millions of dollars have been raised for thousands of charitable organizations, social and political causes. Many of them $1 at a time.



Baby Boomers have lost ground as the largest generation in the United States. The new internet, tech savvy, gadget hungry generation of today represents more than 70 million consumers. This generation has been touted the Millennials and 60 minutes reported now as "The Age of the Millenials. Thus social media is quickly becomimg an important part of communications today. The communications professional in me realizes this is innovation at its best. The non-professional in me thinks, "Holy Sh*t, this is so cool! Who wouldn't want ride the proverbial wave?" Organizations, whether corporate or non-profit are gearing up for an exponential change in marketing to this generation. The Millenial consumer is looking for a platform to have a voice and FB gives them this platform. On FB, tens of thousands are voting where charitable dollars should go, discussing political issues, candidates and starting grassroots organizations and causes. I for one, though I swore obscenities at my Blackberry when 20 FB notifications woke me up from my much needed nap, will continue to dig deeper into what FB can offer beyond a god-damned hatching egg!

There is more to Facebook than it's cover represents, in other words - Don't judge a Facebook by its cover.

Inspiration

Recently, I thought I was going to die.

OK STOP LOOKING AT THE DUDE IN THE VIDEO FOR A QUICK SEC - I KNOW IT'S DISTRACTING

I found myself in such horrific pain for three weeks with CT scan after MRI after ultrasound - potential tumor then not, one Doctor telling me one thing and another Doctor something completely different. Not to mention, no one particular Doctor wanted to claim my illness as falling "in their realm of specialty." It's a freakin' human body in pain people. I felt like Sarah Palin's accent...nobody wanted to claim me. And whatever happened to Doctors being diagnosticians? I was never diagnosed with anything, yet I came out of the thick smog that was part narcotic pain medication mixed with a touch of the rank stank of my rarely bathed self (sorry honey) and the delusion that I was no longer human, I had been abducted by aliens who subsequently implanted their embryo into my body and it was fighting it's way out through my belly button. The day I felt some semblance of normalcy, I was ready to go do something as human as possible (besides eating) like invest in the stock market. What? Did I miss something bad? Or I even thought about joining a soccer team or running a marathon. Yeah, I guess the narcotics hadn't quite worn off yet.
I thought I was going to die and I didn't and I'm going to live the hell out of my life. Well, not quite as bad ass as this guy:



Let's all bow in humility.

Life With Logue - Parenting a Gifted Child

When Logue was born, exactly 13 years, 7 months 19 days ago, I knew right away he was an old soul. He didn't like a lot of noise, activity or fuss. He would sit in his bouncy chair and laugh and giggle at a Native American mask a friend's father made for us. He hated sleeping alone as if he knew about solitude already. We started to call him our "Little Bhudda" he seemed so "Zen" (except when we had to put him on the washing machine to calm him down in the middle of the night). At 18 months his daddy asked him how his nasty cut on his eyebrow that he had gotten on the playground was and Logue answered, "It just IS Daddy."

When I took him to mommy and me class he was content to play on his own. If another child neared his area, he just moved on to something else. When circle time came, he was not about to participate. I know now what he was thinking: "Why join in with the others when I can have the Duplos all to myself and reinvent the pyramid?" "Besides, who wants to sing the ABC song when you can design a Lego airplane from scratch and really Mama, the wheels on the bus? We all know they go 'round and 'round." Logue resisted play time up in the gym as well. Other kids were not interesting to him, especially if they were ramming each other with various wheeled, kid powered vehicles. To Logue vehicles (Hot Wheels) were to be lined up in neat little rows, color coordinated and by make and model.

Preschool came and man did Logue put up a fight. Being young, first time parents, we didn't want to cause him more agony than he already appeared to be in every time preschool days came around. You'd think that the resounding "Logue!" shouted from every student in the classroom when he walked in would be a welcoming treat for a 3 yr old. Not Logue. We caved often when those crocodile tears came pouring down, "I don't want to go to school, it's too hard!" Poor teacher Nancy, the sweetest lady ever who adored Logue. She had her work cut out for her. But again, I knew what he was thinking: "What's the point in going to this place where you have to stand in line, run around in a gym and...What is all this nonsense about coloring inside the lines, for God sakes people, think outside the box!" A conformer he was not. Polite, gracious and kind he was (thank God for small favors) which I why I think they let him stay.

Around age four I started noticing Logue reading signs along the road in the car. At first I thought he was just talking, singing - the usual toddler stuff. It started to dawn on me that he might be reading. So, I tested him. "Do you know that sign says stop because you recognize the red octagon?" "No, mama, it says S-T-O-P, stop, just like that sign over there says Cleaners." "Oh, my bad." Soon it was cereal boxes, milk cartons and very quickly our house was bursting at the seams with books. That's when the worrying started. How do we parent this child? Are we supposed to send him to some think tank or boarding school for special smart 4 yr olds? Reading about gifted children and other parents with smart children brought me back down to earth...THEIR children were reading when they were 2 yrs old. Whew!

...to be continued.

I Promised I wouldn't Get Involved in the Political Realm...I Lied

No matter what party a candidate is from, left or right, Democrat or Republican, I expect a prospective leader of our free country to conduct him/herself with dignity, honor and dare I ask for a slight bit of humility? I hoped that we had learned from historical events that declarations of hate, slander and racism do not bring us the truth, rather those things instill fear into already afraid Americans. I'm not expecting the Presidential Candidates to rival the Dhali Lama, far from it. Bring it down about a hundred notches and there you have a reasonable expectation for the behavior we should expect from our Political Candidates. Enough with spinning facts into fear. Really...Acorn is destroying the "Fabric of Democracy?" Come on now...get a real campaign.

Destinisia

Have you ever gone somewhere and forgotten why you went? Yeah, that happened to me today...if you saw a woman turning in circles at the grocery store looking perplexed and lost...that was me! Awkward. Yeah, I'm sure people were thinking "Oh, look at that poor girl, she's a little slow." It's called Destinisia. (Thanks Urban Dictionary)

Anyway what was I talking about? Oh yeah, since Anna and I live across the country from each other, we need to talk to each other face to face rather than ear to ear. Mostly because I'm a retard who can't hear people on cell phones and just end up saying "Huh?!" the whole time and nothing gets communicated whatsoever. We could text, but we always have so much to talk about - we'd be thumb lashing each other ourselves into carpal thumbal. So, we use iChat. I love technology (except when it doesn't work) and iChat or Skype - is priceless. One of the best conversations Anna and I have ever had via iChat is shown below. We covered so many topics, talked about all the important things going on in our lives - school, work, kids, boys and...well...you'll see. I have to warn you though, Anna and I have kind of our own language. We are "Agent Zoeys" after all.




Poor Bean was trying to get in on the action.

Etsy Makes Martha Look...Mediocre

I love Etsy. Like an I-have-to-stay-away-or-I-will-go-broke-love. There are so much fantastical hand-made goodies to find, from clothes to toys, art to jewelry. This is not your average craft fair. There are some seriously talented people with seriously cool stuff to sell. Right now Etsy is having a contest...so check it out and vote. Here's who I'm voting for:


by barkingbirdart (special affinity for fellow Portlanders)
who doesn't love a little self sufficient hedgehog?


by littlegirlPearl
this coat is so whimsically retro and happy!


by littleloveblue
mushrooms, felt, blue bells...I am one with the universe.

MMMMARTHA AND ME

A subscriber to Martha's methods I am not. If I get involved in watching her shows or reading her magazine I don't feel that excitement to get up and organize - I get depressed. I am a lower than low maintenance gal when it comes to my house, my yard, my entertaining - wait...I don't entertain. So, it's very out of character that I came across this ccr...ccr...I can say it - just give me a minute...c...r...a...f...t!
I want to have someone make these for me make these and string them all over Bean's room. They're happy little balls of joy.

Here's the "How To" courtesy of Martha Stewart Online:

How to Make the Pom-Poms
You'll need tissue paper and 24-gauge white cloth-covered floral wire.

Hanging Pom-Poms
1. Stack eight 20-by-30-inch sheets of tissue. Make 1 1/2-inchwide accordion folds, creasing with each fold.

2. Fold an 18-inch piece of floral wire in half, and slip over center of folded tissue; twist. With scissors, trim ends of tissue into rounded or pointy shapes.

3. Separate layers, pulling away from center one at a time.

4. Tie a length of monofilament to floral wire for hanging.

NERDY GIRLS ARE DUMB SLUTS?

FIRST I JUST WANT TO CHANGE THE NERDY GIRLS TITLE...I DON'T LIKE THE WORD 'NERD'...NERLIES? GERDYS? (No, sounds too gastrointestinal) NERGILS? I'll sleep on that one.
I was perusing the Talented and Gifted Family forum and come across this article, Smart=Sexy. Smart=Sexy is a snartastical response by Jennifer Ouellette to the negative comments aimed at Phil Plait at Discover Magazine and his post here about supporting the Nerd Girls website. Many of the comments on Phil Plait's post are in response to his supposed chauvinism and whether or not the Nerd Girls are qualified to call themselves Nerd Girls. But here's my favorite comment:

"I am all about equality of all kinds. However, there is one line I wish to comment on. Not sure where you were going with it, so I will just add my piece.
'It (can be) hard to promote this. Society can sometimes just see women as sexual objects, which is unfair.' (Phil's quote)

It is not unfair that sometimes women are seen only as sexual objects. It is their wish too. If I walk down the street and can:
A- See your belly button ring
B- See what color/style underwear you have on
C- Do a 3/4 visual breast exam without you removing your clothes
etc, then that is exactly how I will see you, as an object for my sexually viewing pleasure."

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!
I was told there were people in the world who blame women for their chauvinism. But wow, here's a real life example for me. I would have understood had he said "Hey, I'm a man and when I see a woman, I often see her as a sexual object," because at least he wouldn't be blaming his behavior on women and what they wear.

I know nothing about Phil Plait and won't comment as to whether he is chauvinistic. His support of females in the science industry is cool. 'Nuff said.

I do, however, get caught up in the topic of whether girls should concern themselves, as they are growing up, with makeup, clothes, jewelry and such other toxic items that might objectify them as...wait for it...FEMININE! And yes, the many double standards that us girls and women have to endure make me cringe and then other bad bodily things happen because I'm getting old. Really though, studies show that good looking people are taken more seriously than their ugly counterparts yet, admit it...many people assume if a woman is pretty...she must not be that smart. If a girl or a woman explores her appearance is she shallow? Is she asking to be objectified? Does it dilute her intelligence? Those are rhetorical questions.

My concern is this: How do we raise girls in this culture and era to find their identity and feel confident, happy, grounded without the fear that looking pretty too is just asking to be degraded?

I grew up a (here it comes...look out) "Nerd", caring about my appearance, liking girly things AND boyish things. I learned as a 13 year old Amer-Asian girl that dying my hair blonde (which turned out orange) to look like Madonna was a need to explore how I felt about not being the stereotypical blonde, blue-eyed girl-next-door (literally) and a way to accept my Asian heritage and beauty among mostly Caucasian peers. I also piled on the blue eye shadow and pink lipstick 'til there was a shortage in the makeup industry, testing my perspective of what pretty was. And the mini-skirt I wore that one day, attracted the wrong kinds of guys, ew. All this while doing independent studies in calculus. These were extremely valuable lessons for me. THANK YOU MOM! I know it gave you arthritis.

Children will explore their gender identity - like my friend's 5 year old son who is curious about dressing up in a tutu and my daughter who wants to wear her brother's clothes one day and a princess costume another.

Let girls discover who they are without judging them. Let girls explore their intelligence while exploring their femininity. We can't make assumptions as to what it means from their perspective - then we're proposing we are all-knowing, and we aren't are we? You can't discount the psychological process of exploring one's appearance as part of exploring one's personality and identity.
Do people who criticize the exploration of femininity have children? Because there is a great lesson in raising kids: Some things are innate.
There are groups of people everywhere who are happy and confident with who they are and want to tell about it. GREAT! If we have a problem with that, we need to take a hard look at ourselves and ask, "What is it about me that elicits the need to focus energy on criticizing others' confidence and choices in appearance?"
I understand that makeup, nice clothes and jewelry do not make a girl. But if a girl wants those things that does not make her a sellout. We have too many stereotypes in this country. Men who like to dress well and use hair products are metrosexual...huh? Girls who wear baggy jeans and short hair are dikes...wha?
Are we assuming that the young women from NERD GIRLS were held down against their will, smothered in makeup and forced to pose for a picture so the blogger could make a point?

When we start dictating what girls should or shouldn't be doing with their appearance while exploring their identity...that's when the problems begin. Let a girl try out blue hair and focus on teaching her to be kind, honest and trustworthy. You know, girls will find a way, no matter what anyone tells them to do, to express themselves through their appearance. Boys too. It's a natural part of growing up. And if we focus on supporting their confidence, some of them will look back when they're 30 and say, "Why the hell did I wear all that makeup? That was a phase I learned from." And some of them might say, "Thank God I was allowed to explore my identity...I am a happy healthy adult because of it."

If a girl wants to declare that she is smart AND likes makeup, jewelry and clothes - and it makes her feel confident...THEN LET HER BE!

And as Jennifer Ouellette says in Smart=Sexy, "But just because some guys can be immature jerks is no reason to teach our young girls that therefore, they shouldn't wear pretty clothes and makeup because it's just asking to be harassed and/or not be taken seriously. If the guys' attitudes are the problem, why are we placing the onus for behavioral modification on the girls? We should be enlightening the guys instead, not making excuses for them ("That's just how men are"). Dudes! It's the 21st century! Evolve already!"
I second that emotion.

DISPATCH FROM THE BITE OF OREGON

As my PR Consulting business grows, I am most happy with the new and exciting world of the music industry. As I dig deeper into the unknown that is Dan Reed and his career, I will chronicle my experiences in this blog. The following is a look at 1. J's shaky video hand (but I so love you for being my camera man!) 2. My amateur editing abilities 3. Dan's amazing concert at The Bite of Oregon at Tom McCall Waterfront Park. Check out Jay Mack and his smooth rhymes...

ANNA CHRONICLES

i'm just now realizing how insane i am to move to one of the biggest cities in the world, by myself. i've been living here for 6 months, and i'm LITERALLY just NOW realizing how insane i am. woah crazy

i'm all alone in this wonderful city. sometimes i'm paranoid, sometimes i'm lonely, sometimes i'm excited, sometimes i'm disgusted, i'm all these different things every second of every day. but all the time i'm happy to be here.

i think my life is a mess right now. and i know exactly what i have to do to fix it. and i just can't figure out why i haven't done it yet. i don't know if it's because i'm scared or if it's because i am lazy. either way...earlier this evening i was feeling pretty sorry for my lonely self because of a million reasons that really don't matter but after about 5 minutes i decided to stop feeling sorry for myself (yay me!) and to start doing something (YAY YAY ME!). i always know i will feel much better after i do something. but for some reason when i feel sorry for myself i think i just want to sit and "feel the pain" and really i will feel much better once i do something. even if that something is as small as taking a shower. it really helps. i wonder why....
POSTED BY ANNA

GOOD GOD, IS THERE A LIFE COACH IN THE HOUSE?

My plate is full. Overflowing in fact. And what do I do? Pile more on. But I NEED to do just one more important thing, she says while the foster dog is hopping incessantly on her hind legs making a repetitive noise not unlike an abused clarinet, the pot bellied pom-poo who's bark collar has turned her into a tibetan throat singer is...making that noise, the cockatiel is whistling obscenities at me and Bean has the TV blasting in her attempt to drown out the noise. Why do I have a foster dog? Because I'm trying to save the world one dog at a time. Why do I want to add more to my plate? Because I'm a glutenous, perfectionist task hog who thinks life can only get that much better if I just...So here's the list:

1. Write in my journal. I've enlisted Hasslebot to remind me of this everyday. So far I've deleted all the email reminders first thing each morning.

2. Start teaching a hip-hop class for kids and teens. Why? Because dance is in my soul, part of who I am, my method of expression - er...and I couldn't say no.

3. Use Wii Fit with Logue half an hour every other day. He's thinks it's cool and I'm in to the really hot trainer on there.

4. Join my friend Stephanie in September for the Cookie-ing Through challenge. My jaw just clenched and cramped thinking about Cookie-fying my life. But hey, it's only one month!

5. Stand-up Paddle as much as I can with Jay while the weather is still nice. We're going for the Laird Hamilton/Gabby Reece super cool couple look and image. Except I need to grow another foot and a half.

I think I need a life coach to help me find another 2 hours per day in my life.
But then I'd probably just spend the time watching my new favorite animated shorts, Miniscule. 'Cause when I'm feeling miniscule, you know like when your kid tells you your not fixing dinner at the right time, or that you forgot to feed her lunch? This'll help.



Warning: Bug death may be too upsetting for some viewers.

No Bean, they're not real bugs in real life.



Oh, and I really want to work on becoming a rock star. Thoughts?