What the heck is GISH?

A painting of RBG in bubble wrap in front of a Halloween tombstone
 

It seemed like a good idea at the time, signing up for this strange creative photo and video scavenger hunt, but that was Before. Before The List was published, I was your average run-of-the-mill writer. I had a life. I had plans. Lots of plans.

Now everything is GISH. We live and die by The List. And The List is vast. We eat, sleep, and breathe GISH challenges.

My husband is eating only foods I’m creating for the challenge. A 7-course fine dining meal on a stick sounds great and all, until you realize you’re eating frozen soup on a stick.

7-course meal on a stick

I wasn’t joking.

Sleeping in a sleeping bag in a tent sounds romantic and adventurous until you realize you’re also doing so covered in water.

GISH Underwater camping

Again, not joking.

Breathing? It used to be easy until you realize your breath is the only thing holding this balloon afloat, and you have to keep doing it…for FIVE MORE HOURS.

Three full days in and I now realize that GISH is a bunch of nonsense. Magical, hysterical, ridiculous, absurd nonsense full of joy and wonder that manages to inflict unreasonable pain and suffering to those who wish they could be a part of the challenge.

So yes, it seemed like a good idea, but what I didn’t realize was that it was truly a great idea. I stepped outside of my already vast comfort zone and into a wonderland of creative energy, surrounded by artists and actors and tinkerers and creators. Now that I live in the After (After The List was published), I see the world differently. GISH isn’t just a creative scavenger hunt. It’s a way of life. And one I don’t intend to abandon ever.

GISH Kitchen robot

This is Utensio. My kitchen robot assistant.

This piece was written for task number 42 of the 2020 GISH. Photos have been changed to include more recent and relevant GISH tasks.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Brian’s Weirder Than Me

So the other night, Brian and I were in the grocery store and chatting about something ridiculous. And he set down the shopping basket to make these huge hand gestures and get REALLY excited about the nerdiness of our conversation. And people stared.

Then he walked away to get hot dog buns.

As he was disappearing down another aisle, I yelled out to him, “You know what I love?”

“Cheese?”

“Well, that. And the fact that no matter how weird I am, you’re JUST as weird.”

“Nope. I’m definitely weirder.”

And then he disappeared. And people stared some more.

What makes your person your match? Are you as weird as us?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Practicing on the Wheelie Sneaks

Guys. So far, I haven’t fallen.

Let me repeat this:

I. Have. Not. Fallen.

OK, so there may have been a few near misses…but I have yet to hurt myself on the wheelie sneaks. Which probably makes it a lot less entertaining for you. But much better for me.

When I first got my wheelie sneaks, there was a warning on the bottom of each shoe. Basically, it said, “Peel this shit off, and you promise not to sue our asses if you fall on yours.”

Whatevs.

So that night I practiced in our garage. That was when I realized it would take some time before I could wear them to work.

And finally, I’ve discovered the best way to practice on the wheelie sneaks.

At the grocery store. With wheeled aids.

Later in the grocery store, Brian pushed me, while I pushed the cart. And then I almost fell in the parking lot. But I didn’t fall.

Yet.

What do you think guys?!

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

This Shit Seriously Just…Happens to Me

Pepperidge Farm Goldfish

I love the fishes ‘cuz they’re so delicious. Gotta go fishin’

Pepperidge Farm Goldfish

When we drove by this on Saturday afternoon, the conversation went like this, “BlahblahblahunrelatedHOLYCRAPTHATSAWESOME WEHAVETOTURNAROUND” And Brian turned around. And yes, I do talk that fast.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

You Guys, I Couldn’t Make This Shit Up If I Tried

Let me tell you a little story. Sometimes, I just sort of plop down on the floor. Especially if I have been squatting to reach something on the bottom of the fridge. And I am tired.

And so there I was sitting on the kitchen floor the other day after work and Brian brought me a glass of water. And then dragged this giant helium balloon over and said to me, “Hold onto this. It will help you get up.” And he pulled. And pulled. And I still didn’t get up. And then he laughed a little. And then took my picture. And I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE that while he was telling me to pull down or move my water glass that he had a plan. I didn’t realize it until I LOOKED at the pictures what he was doing. I thought he just couldn’t see my face.

Smiley Face BalloonSmiley Face BalloonSmiley Face BalloonSmiley Face Balloon

For the record? I was Stone. Cold. Sober.

Tell me something ridiculous about you. Please. So I don’t feel quite as…special. Thanks!

Tomorrow I’ll be announcing last week’s giveaway winners! So stay tuned.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: Sometimes I’m a Hot Mess. Sometime’s I’m Not.

Let me start by saying this: Anxiety Disorder is a fickle bitch. For me, it’s like I’m a complete contradiction of myself. Take that one time I met Jenny Lawson, for example.

Within two hours of freaking the fuck out when I met Jenny Lawson (Shaking hands, heart racing, rambling uncontrollably about nothing, and basically making a complete fool of myself, when all I wanted to do was impress her with my clever wit and overall adorableness…neither of which showed up to party), I went out to the bar where I proceeded to stand up in front of an entire bar full of people — mostly strangers, and sing a song about masturbation without a second thought. (I’m kind of a karaoke nerd. For the record, I was singing the Divinyls’ “I Touch Myself,” loudly. Proudly, even.)

Why?

No, seriously. It doesn’t make any sense! I can make a fool of myself (ON PURPOSE) in front of a hundred strangers…but meeting one famous author, who understands awkward probably better than I do sends me into a pile of incoherent goo. IN THE SAME NIGHT.

Karaoke Queen

These karaoke photos are old as shit. They were not as old when I published them. But I, like this blog, have aged a few years and gained a few pounds of water weight.

Karaoke Queen

Okay, so this was where this post originally ended, and I have no idea why or how. I just know that I wrote it back when I was writing blog posts 5-7 days a week, and I guess I just didn’t have anything else to say? 2021 me is sad for 2013 me who didn’t know how to finish a blog post. But 2013 me wrote more of them, so I don’t actually know who’s winning the blog battle here. 

Do you have any crazy quirks that make you question your sanity? Tell me, Blog Friends!

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Two Years Seems Like Just Yesterday AND Like Forever

Two years ago, Brian took me out on a date. And so today is our anniversary. (It is also Katie’s birthday–and thanks to this anniversary shenanigans, I finally remember that.)

In honor of our anniversary, I’ve composed a thank you letter/list to Brian. For always being there. For always being the best. For putting up with me. For being my best friend. For being the ONLY person in the whole world that I can spend as much time with as I do without wanting to kill each other. At all. Ever. Okay…maybe just like once. But definitely not usually.

To Brian on our second anniversary of being us,

It feels like I’ve known you forever, and yet the time has flown faster than I could possibly imagine. I have so many things in my life to be thankful for, and you are most definitely one of them. But I also have a lot of things to thank YOU for…and so I compiled this very poetic list.

Thank you for always knowing exactly where I am…
Even when I have no fucking clue
And for directing me out of being lost
Especially at the train station in the city which is flipping huge.
 
Thank you for not being mad…
That one time I parked your car in the city and forgot that city parking requires payment.
And that other time I accidentally got drunk and needed a ride from Naperville
And that other time I accidentally dyed your bathroom rug red
And that other time I took you to a party in the city and apologized a whole lot for being drunk. And losing my wallet. And falling off a booth. That I was sitting on.
And all of those times I forgot to turn the stove off.
 
Thank you for suggesting that we go to Disney World,
Even though it’s probably the last place on Earth you wanted to go…
And even if you don’t actually remember being the one to suggest it.
 
Thank you for force feeding me Doctor Who
Until I decided that it was amazing
And became obsessed and all of a sudden loved the Doctor way more than you do.
 
Thank you for not thinking I’m CRAZY
When I cry for no reason
And when I tell you about how I’m going to be famous one day
And when I refuse to walk to my car to get my glasses but will drive all the way to the Wisconsin for cheese
And for everything else that I do that makes me just a little bit different from other girls.
On that note, thank you for thinking my quirks are adorable instead of annoying
 
Thank you for laughing at my really stupid jokes…
And actually thank you for cracking your own stupid jokes
So that I always have something to laugh at.
 
Thank you for allowing me the creative license to remember things slightly different…
Especially when I write blog posts…
 
Most importantly, thank you for being you.
You know exactly how to make me smile.
I have so many wonderful things to say about you,
But I know that you hate the spotlight.
I think the world knows how much you mean to me,
And if they don’t…
They can all bugger off.
Because you’re the cheese to my mac.
The cheese to my puffs.
The cheese to my sandwich.
And the chocolate to my cheese.
 
Anniversary Card

This is my anniversary card to Brian. You’ll note that my happy places include Disney, Cheese, and Brian. Sometimes all at the same time.

 

 
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Know How to Pick ‘Em (Eye Doctors That Is)

I went to the eye doc this week in order to renew my contact prescription (you know, because my the script for my specs is like 7 years old, maybe older…like 9…and I have no desire to get new glasses…) And this is the conversation that transpired.

Doc: Something tells me that your glasses aren’t from the prescription we had last year.

Me: No…they may be a little older than that…But…I mean, it’s okay, because I NEVER wear my glasses (this is kind of a little white lie).

Doc: Well, you know…in the zombie apocalypse, no one’s going to be running out to find contact solution. Update. Your. Glasses.

Me: *Internal SQUEE!* OK, you’ve got me there…

Doc: I’ve been watching The Walking Dead…

Me: Don’t tell me; we haven’t watched this week’s episode yet.

Doc: After 3 years, the zombies don’t scare me anymore…it’s the people. That backpacker from a few weeks ago? Yeah. Horrible.

Me: Right?! When I have my zombie nightmares on Sunday/Monday nights depending on when we watch it…I don’t dream about the zombies…it’s the people that really get to me.

Doc: You know, I’m not very prepared for it either. No gun. Maybe a few kitchen knives.  Then there are the people who save up food and water and supplies getting themselves prepared for anything…except that they have no weapons. They don’t realize they’re stocking up for the fully stocked armory that is one of their neighbors.

Me: True story, Doc.

Doc: Great show, The Walking Dead. I’ll see you in a year. Get some new glasses, alright?

Me: Sure thing, Doc.

I must be doing something right. Best. Eye Doctor. Ever.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

11 Things I Think in Yoga Class

I know that in yoga, you’re supposed to meditate and find your inner chi or peace or something…

Instead, my mind starts to wander and I have some very valuable (and bizarre) thoughts. It’s almost as good as my shower thinking (which is where I do all of my big thinking). A lot of the thoughts I have are about my boobs. But you’d think about your boobs a lot too, if you spent multiple minutes at a time with your face in your own tits. Fucking yoga.
Yoga

11 Things I Think While Meditating in Yoga Asanas

I wonder what would happen if I try that next pose?

My boobs are fucking ginormous.

He (the instructor) wants me to do what?

I have the worst frontal wedgie in the history of ever.

So this is what a motorboat feels like.

I don’t care what Special K said, a power bar does not equal dinner.

I wonder if I could pop my boobs like a balloon.

I wonder if anyone would notice me pull my underwear out of my crotch.

My feet are fucking freezing, Mr. Bigglesworth.

Is that pose even possible?

I’m supposed to be meditating. Is thinking about dinner meditating?

Blog friends, what do you think about when you’re working out?

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Bought Cool Mickey Band Aids When We Went To Disney World…And Then I Used Them All…

Brian: I got you something.

Me: Oh yeah?

Brian: It’s smaller than a bread box.

(I look in the bag expecting Peeps or Cadbury Cream Eggs or Cadbury Mini Eggs or jellybeans.)

Me: *Squeal*

Mickey Mouse Band Aids

Me: I ran out of these when we were in Florida!

Brian: Wait, you had these?

Me: Duh. (I look at the side package.) No! OMG THESE ARE WAY BETTER.

Mickey Mouse Band Aids

Brian: WOAH. I have to take them back. There’s some serious Mickey abuse going on. I didn’t see that in the store.

Me: No! It’s just a love pat. Look! They’re kissing! And it’s pink!

Brian: Abuse. That’s horrible.

Me: LOVE. Tap. (I pet his cheek and shout “Smack!”) See. Love.

Brian: Now don’t go hurting yourself on purpose to wear these.

Me: *Silence*

Brian: If you want to wear one, you can just put it on. You don’t need any real injuries. OK?

Me: What should I chop for dinner?

Brian: I don’t know…HEY! WAIT A MINUTE!

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!