Adventure Bowl Week 2 Feeling the Rush, Of the Blue Crush

This afternoon, I swished my hand inside the Adventure Bowl and prayed I'd get a goody. Something that would be adventurous and be accomplished while lying down would be pretty sweet!

I reached in and it said, "Today you are going skim boarding." I'm not going to lie, I didn't want to do it. But Rule #1 of Adventure Bowl is you can't say "no." Oh, yeah, there are rules, people!

If you don't know what skim boarding is, at first glance, it looks like surfing for losers. You take the skim board which is 1/3 the size of a surf board and very thin, and hurl it into the end of a wave like it was a Frisbee. Then as the board is moving, you jump on and ride the last bit of the wave. You go really fast and really far and it can make you feel SUPER TOUGH.

Unless of course, you have not skim boarded in two years and in that time you have gained an EXTRA ASS and as you jump on your skim board, YOU SINK REALLY FAST. In front of people. On a crowded beach. Which happened to me, on this adventure.

Right after it happened, this little six year old goes whizzing by me, showing me how it's done. I SWEAR HE WAS METAPHORICALLY GIVING ME THE FINGER. Since drowning a six year old to make myself feel better was out of the question (I could never run fast enough to my car after, the sand slows you down), I instead went over to the surf shop to rent another skim board.

A big girl's skim board (eye roll).

"How much do you weigh?" said the kid behind the counter.
"I don't know." (Oh, I know! I know very, very well.)
"Well, what would you guess?"
"Um... is there a board for 'a lot,' as in 'I weigh a lot.'"
"No. There are people behind you. Just give me a ballpark."
"Okay, I weigh what you weigh (small voice) plus, like ten pounds more."
"There's no way you weigh what I weigh. (LOUD VOICE) Hey, Tyler, this lady is trying to say she weighs what I weigh."
"Hey, can you pipe down just a little!"
"Sorry, M'am."

UH!!!! What???? Did he just call me "M'am." He did. He recklessly M'am-ed me. A young lady like me.

Yes, I got another board. A hefty girl's board. And I skimmed and it felt awesome. But what was crazy was that it wasn't the skim boarding that made my day. It was realizing that doing this adventure gave me the feeling of perseverance, even in the face of embarrassment.

For me, it would have been so easy to pack up and go home. But I don't want to pack up and go home. I want to do things. Things that defy my abilities. Things that test me and make me come out a winner. So I took the strength I got from doing the last adventure and I brought it with me today. It was like a little voice, "You are stronger now... you can do this... keep your promise to yourself."

And I did. And now the next time I want to give up, I'll remember trudging back down to the beach with my new board and riding it kind of bumpily but mostly awesomely and victoriously.

In your face, onlookers!


This blog is dedicated to fearless six year-olds everywhere.

Adventure Bowl Week 2
Feeling the Rush, Of the Blue Crush

"And Then I Started This Blog About Being A Comedy Writer Who Goes Through Depression and Gets A Big Fat Ass... But It's Funny... I Swear"

I love Studio meetings. You only get the meeting if they like what they've read, so already you're going in with people liking you. I like when people like me. And then they ask you questions about your life and you feel like you must be very interesting, like your on a hipper version of "The Charlie Rose Show."

The thing that always comes up is, "How have you been spending your time since your last show?"

"I produced two plays, wrote a spec, an awesome pilot and outlined a second." But I always fantasize about adding this lil' diddy, "But right after the last show, after my cousin was killed and my mom had a nervous breakdown, I mostly laid on the couch with the heat cranked up and the curtains closed. That's even if I've even gotten out of bed and had my breakfast of Doritos and Diet Orange Shasta."

But if you say that, the meeting ends, your sticker pass is abruptly ripped from the blazer you're going to return to Bloomingdales after the meeting and security leads you out and takes note of your license plate so the mistake of letting you on the lot never happens again.

The thing is, now that I have started this blog and gotten tens of thousands of hits, and I hear "the blog is the new and hip thing" and there's nothing better that I like than to be is "the new and hip thing" unless the choice could be, "the new and thin thing," I really REALLY wanna brag about this blog in a meeting.

But sometimes when I start with the story that is impetus for this blog - the murder of my cousin, the losing of my job, then my boyfriend, my mother's nervous breakdown after my cousin's trial all in the course of one year... the room gets really silent.

"I swear though... it's really funny." Crickets, crickets, crickets.

Maybe it could have never seemed funny, ever, even to me. But the reason I wrote this blog was because some of the things that happned were so HILARIOUS, so ABSURD, that I felt like if I didn't write them down, I would not have believed them myself.

For example, my Mom was having her nervous breakdown and it was after midnight. We were afraid if we brought her to the hospital like that they would committ her and it would make her condition worse. My sister and I just looked at each other, trying to come up with a plan, and at the same time said, "Ambien."

So we drugged her. I know I'm laughing! Because it was absurd. A glimpse of human nature of two scared daughters who thought the way to protect their mother was to drug her into sleep so they could catch their breath and come up with a plan.

E took Mom upstairs and I went into the kitchen to check on my Dad. "How are you?" He fingered a can of tuna my sister had brought back from Europe. "This tuna... I won't eat it. I only like tuna packed in water."

That's how he was doing. He was not there.

At the hospital, we brought water, fruit, nuts, magazines and two dozen donuts. It was like we were packing for a road trip. My sister and I went in one car and my father and mother in another. My father dropped my mother, a woman who doesn't, now, even know her date of birth, off in front and parked the car. My mother entered the emergency room and seeing the Au Bon Pain restaurant set up in front, thought she was in Au Bon Pain and left.

We had lost our mother at the hospital. Maybe I'm a bad daughter. I didn't find it funny then, but I do now.

'Cause that's how we heal, when we can laugh about these things. Maybe they're not stories for meetings but they are a hell of a bunch of stories, proving that you can go through hell and come back the other side... and even find some of it, kinda funny.


This blog is dedicated to tuna packed in water.

"And Then I Started This Blog About Being A Comedy Writer Who Goes Through Depression and Gets A Big Fat Ass... But It's Funny... I Swear"

Adventure Bowl Week 1 Callous Cream is Your Friend

So here's the deal. From now on every week, on a Saturday or a Sunday, I will be doing some fun little adventure in order to get my butt out of bed, give myself a reason to shave my legs, all while connecting with humanity and keeping the ugly depression monster at bay.

This past weekend, I reached into the adventure bowl and pulled out a beauty, "Go get a pedicure." Rock on! For Week One, I needed it to be something simple. Kayaking in Malibu would have sent me under the covers.

Now you're saying, "What kind of adventure is getting a pedicure. Some people do that once a week. Slutty socialites even do it twice a week." Hey, if you have bed sores from being practically ambulatory from a soul crushing depression, an adventure is like, sleeping on a bed that's actually been made in the past week, okay?

Pipe down.

I have only had a pedicure maybe two times in my life. The reason I put it in the adventure bowl was because my feet look "broke down," they are like monkey feet if monkey feet had talons for toe nails. My heels are cracked from be-bopping around town in flip flops. Plus, there was the whole luxury angle, the literal "taking care of me."

I headed over to the pedicure place, grabbed red nail polish a color WHICH I HAVE NEVER USED IN MY LIFE. But these are adventures and adventures beg for adventure toes.

The woman who was doing my pedicure took one look at my toes and feet and put on plastic gloves, a surgical mask and plastic goggles. I half wondered if she was going to ring a bell for a surgical team who would confer and decide it would just be easier to amputate my feet rather than administer a pedicure.

But instead, this woman WENT TO WORK. She had to pull out some sort of power tool that most resembled some sort of circular sander and she power buffed and fluffed my feet while shards of cracked heel went every where. (When she wiped the sweat off her brow, I buried my face in "InStyle" magazine hoping no one was noticing.

She painted my toes the most gorgeous ruby red and I was dazzled. My heels looked beautiful and I felt like a real live girl. I said to her, "Thank you so much, they look so beautiful." She said, "Yes, when you come in, SO GROSS, but now so beautiful." Her frankness almost made me fall out of my chair.

So there you have it. Week One down and so many more to go. What's your adventure? How are you thrilling and surprising and taking care of yourself?

This blog is dedicated to Boston Creme Donuts.

Adventure Bowl Week 1
Callous Cream is Your Friend

I'll Take Big Butts for $200

I'm in a crap-tas-tic mood. What has put me here is fear, anger, finances, futurizing, re-writing the rewritten rewrite, an empty fridge, a non self-cleaning house, cups of tea that cost $5.00 (WTF?), unsupportive people, bad drivers, over due library books and no sex prospects.

All this and it's not even like I'm having my period.

So I'm trying to cheer myself up. I've decided that it would be really funny if my life was a game show, like "Jeopardy."

"Alex, I'll take 'Big Butts' for $100."
"They're savory and delcious, just don't burn your fingers when you're making them."
"WHAT ARE DONUTS!"
"Yes!"
"I'll take 'Big Butts' for $200."
"They may be for a woman with child but you can wear these in a pinch."
"WHAT ARE MATERNITY JEANS!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, Alex, I think I'm going to change it up a bit. I'll go to 'Disappointing Your Mother' for $50."
"She would probably love you more if you were what?"
"WHAT IS ENGAGED????"
"No, I'm sorry, the answer to that was 'thin.' She would probably love you more if you were 'thin.'"
"Um, Alex, I feel like that question belonged in the 'Big Butts' category. It makes no sense being in this category."

Then Alex and I argue on national live TV and I am dragged off the stage by security which is really embarrassing because I'm wearing my jeans that are too tight and tied with a scarf because the zipper is broken but they are the only ones that even come close to fitting and I can only imagine that my mother, who thought she would finally have something good to write about me in the Christmas Newsletter is now at home shaking her head and thinking, "Alex is right, I would love her more if she was thin."

I'll Take Big Butts for $200

Matthew

Matthew is my cousin David's younger brother. Now Matthew is an only child after David was taken away from us by a raving lunatic who somehow slipped through the system and was let out of the crazy hospital too soon only to score some crystal meth and decide that that night he would really like to kill someone.

When I see Matthew, who we now call Matty, who is our baby, who walks on water, who we pay for everything when he is around to somewhat make up for having his brother be murdered, my heart kind of breaks and I always feel very emotional after.

It's because he is wise and smart and sensitive and forgiving and loving and commpassionate and has forgiven his brother's killer and is easy to make laugh AND he is LIV-LIV-LIVING. How easy it would be, to be the opposite of all these things.

He is touring with his band. After his brother died, I think he got the sense that, anything can happen at anytime, we are all so... unsafe from having our lives ripped out from underneath us all. I think he thought, "I'd rather have my life ripped out from underneath me living my dream and playing my guitar than stuck in a cubicle banging on a computer keyboard."

So he is touring in L.A. E, my sister came to town to see him. They are like new best friends, closer in age than Matty and I, yet their is this fierceness to E, fiercely protective and loving of him and I think if someone hurt him, they would have to deal with her and that would not be pretty.

He said to us this morning, "You guys treat me like I'm a baby." Yes, we do and we will. We don't want you to suffer or worry or want for anything ever again. No one can hurt you if we are here. Did you see the brick wall we built around you? No one can get to you without getting through us.

Then he talked about driving all over the U.S. of A., in a van, with his friends and he said, "It's amazing how kind everyone is, people are so friendly and nice. I needed to see that of humanity, it's very healing for me." I know he's speaking of David's murder, it's in the room again, which is always firsts jars me and then comforts me. He knows he is safe. He can talk about anything with us.

We kind of, me, he and E, took a drunken pact one night that we would not be like the generation before us, keeping secrets and telling lies and holding all the pain is. Matty said that night, "I feel like I lost my brother but I got three sisters in return."

He is a good boy. He says, "I love you" on the phone and he says "I love you" instead good-bye. Sometimes, I think he's the strongest one of all of us.

Matthew

Adventure Bowl 2008

Life doesn't have to be boring. Fun times are not just reserved for Hawaiian vacations.

My co-worker H used to make fun of me because I am an obsessive-compulsive list maker. There is something so satisfying about writing something down you have to do and then crossing it off. This morning I was thinking, "Why do all the things on my list have to be so damn boring?" Do I want them to put on my headstone, "She always remembered to go to the bank and buy stamps."

Hell no!

A few years ago, when I felt my life was getting insanely routine: wake, workout, work, TV time, sleep, RINSE REPEAT, I decided to make a list of all the fun things I wanted to do. Then I put them on little scraps of paper and put them in a big clear bowl - THE ADVENTURE BOWL.

On the weekend, I would have to pick one thing AND I WOULD HAVE TO DO IT! It really injected a sense of fun, adventure and spontaneity into my life that I REALLY needed. Sometimes, I could grab a friend to go with me, sometimes not, but the point was NOT to waste weekend time with just running errands, returning phone calls and paying bills.

So, I am whipping the Adventure Bowl back out for '08. Anyone care to join me? The best thing about this one is it's going to be The Frugal Girl's Adventure Bowl as my accountant (my Bank of America bank statement) says that's the only way it can be done!

What's your idea of adventure? Here's the thing, it doesn't have to be that hard. It can be, "I'm going to get a pedicure today in a color I have never gotten before." "I'm going to take a new class at the gym today." "I'm going to sit in a beautiful hotel lobby with a cup of tea and write in my journal." "I'm going to show up at the soup kitchen and serve lunch."

The best thing is this not only feeds you with FUN, but it can help if you and a boyfriend or even you and your kids need to push yourself into doing something new.

Okay, here's my list which I reserve the right to add to:

1) Have a margarita at The Beverly Hills Pennisula Hotel, outside by the fireplace
2) Go to the MOMA downtown - I love Modern Art, I feel so much less intimidated by it
3) Suri Bikes! Have you ever seen these? They are these crazy Italian bikes that look like carts, you ride up front but they have four wheels and everyone I ever see riding them looks like they are having a blast!
4) Yoga, yoga, yoga. First class, always free.
5) I want to sit up at The Griffin Observatory at night and watch the sunset
6) Rock climbing. There is a store on the westside where you can do demos for free.
7) Rent a bike and ride along the ocean. Watch cute surfers after.
8) Take a pottery class, there is a drop in place in L.A.
9) China Town! I love China Town for the bright colors, the browsing, the peole watching, the food and the art. A nice walk around and then maybe have a friend join me for dinner.
10) Volunteer - now that I did my orientation, I can pick up a shift at the children's hospital or I can go down to the women's shelter which always welcomes me with open arms
11) Pool crash - every now and then, this must be done. You dress very nicely and go to a fancy hotel of your choice. How can they tell you don't belong there? One Miller Lite later, I'm swimming with unsuspecting guests.
12) I want to be on a boat or a jet ski or both but this doesn't fit even in the realm of my pocket book but I will scour away until I figure this one out!

Okay, I know I have many, many more. So I will add a part two to this list. If anyone can suggest fun things to do in any city for under $10 bucks, leave it in the comments section and INSPIRE us all :)

Adventure Bowl 2008

Does This Bathing Suit Make My Stretch Marks Look Sexy?

You guys write the most awesome comments ever. They are so supportive, rockin’ and insightful. There was one in the section of the entry “Eatin’ Pants” that I wanted to comment on right away.

But it all became so giganta-loric, that I thought I’d make it it’s own entry. Here’s part of that comment from Anonymous: “…but I have to mention one thing that's never been brought up on this blog. I know it's not a weight-loss blog, but we talk about it. After I reach my goal weight, I will still have these damn stretch marks from the weight gain in the first place. So knowing after all this work to better myself, I'm still going to have these horrible, embarrassing flaws leaves me so depressed. Okay, there, I said it :( Sorry to be depressing.”

First of all awesome reader, you are allowed to say anything you want to say here and I promise you, if you read some of these entries here, you can be sure, I can OUT-DEPRESS you. So never feel self-conscious about that.

So let’s talk about STRETCH MARKS. First of all, women that give birth to babies have them. It’s a beautiful reminder of what love created and that their body housed a frickin’ miracle. Men get stretch marks on their arms when they gain muscle after pumping iron. I see it in the gym all the time. So why do we, as, woman, wearing our own history of bummed-outed-ness or depression weight have to feel so guilty about ours?

When I was at my ideal weight, I had stretch marks. I was in the cutest cherry blossom tankini you ever saw at a work retreat but I was still the girl that wanted to get out of the hot tub last because I still thought my butt looked big. (I would now kill for that butt… I would kill for that butt plus 20 pounds more!!!)

Now, I can’t wait to be that weight again and THE ONE THING I WILL NEVER DO, is be self conscious in a bathing suit again. WHY? Because like a woman who puts on weight for her baby, I put on weight for my own life sustaining reason. I was depressed. I was in the black hole. I lost my cousin, my family was shattered, I lost a job, my boyfriend and my Mom… well, you all know about my Mom.

This weight was hard won to put on and it will be hard won to get off. But when I do, I’ll feel sooooo UNBELIVEABLY proud of myself when I get there that I will not care about stretch marks, whether they are white or red or black & blue.

Now I know some people are not gonna be on board about my “Rah, rah, love your stretch marks!” So for you, I say this, I didn’t always feel this way either. One thing I forgot to mention about that retreat was the HUGE bottle of Neutrogena spray tan I applied before I went to it. And it worked! Stretch marks be gone!

You need the help of a friend, I learned the hard way. I was so desperate to have the perfect J. Lo glow that I applied Spray Tan to my wall and shimmied my naked back up and down to get the good stuff on me because I couldn’t reach there myself!

The image of that makes me laugh and kind of gasp at the same time. But I didn’t know then what I know now... that I need to love myself all the time – Pale and Stretch-Marky or Super Tan with a Stretch Mark Secret.

Does This Bathing Suit Make My Stretch Marks Look Sexy?

Eatin' Pants

Do you know what "eatin' pants" are? Of course you do. You don't?

Eatin' pants, or its grammatically correct phrase, "eating pants" are close cousins to the sweat pants family. Eating pants, though, are a step-up, a fancier version, shall we say, as not to be immediately detected as its lazier cousin, made purely of comfy cotton and an elastic wastband.

Worn with a fancy top, the eating pant can easily be mistaken for a nice dress pant. The magic, though, is where a nice dress pant might pull, might cut off circulation upon sitting, might say, remind you, as it's digging its zipper into your belly button, "DO NOT ASK FOR THAT SECOND BREAD BASKET!," the eating pant forgives, for it is your friend.

It becokens appetizers, a full bowl of the savory, sauced up pasta of your choice and dessert! Don't forget dessert! You can have every last bite as your pants expand and contract with every delicious morsel.

So yesterday, I go out with my friend R for lunch as we are both going to celebrate our belated birthdays. R is a devoted WW devotee so I figured I was in "the safe zone" as far as eating. (The "safe zone" being defined as, "You will be throughly humilated if you eat anything with more fat or calories than your eating brethren. You will be given the WW stink eye if you even think about looking at double fried potaoe skins with a cereal side bowl of sour cream." Humiliation helps, ladies.)

I should have know we were in trouble when it was aggreed upon that the restaurant would be Cheesecake Factory. Even though I knew I would be eating healthy, I put on my eating pants for thorough relaxation and eating maximization, afterall, I had not had breakfast. I tried to channel the woman who leads our WW groups on Friday. And had, I gone today, I could probably recall her name. Let's say it's Lauri.

Lauri says we must visualize and pre-plan everything. If we know we are going out to eat, say for lunch, we must have a healthy breakfast and perhaps, snack on some healthy almonds on the way over as we are visualizing ordering our half salad, dressing on the side.

Hmmmm, well, I hadn't had breakfast and the only thing I could snack on, on the way there was an M&M I found on the floor board of my Jeep. At least, I think it was an M&M, it tasted chocolate-ty. Anyway, I do my visualization technics driving the whole way there.

"Lunch size BBQ Chicken salad with dressing on the side, please. Lunch size BBQ Chicken salad with dressing on the side, please. LUNCH SIZE BBQ CHICKEN SALAD WITH DRESSING ON THE SIDE!!!!"

Okay, I got it down, I'm going in, I'm feeling good.

The waiter comes over. "May I take your order?" My friend R goes first.

R: "I'll have the Liguini with Chicken and Sundried Totatoes in the Cream Sauce."
The waiter turns to me, "And for you, Miss?"
Me: "I'll have the same."

ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!

And just like that, poof, will power gone. Lauri would not be happy.

If I had to be real and from what i remember of Lauri, she likes us to "get real," I would have to say I have fallen so far off the WW plan, I'm practically eating like I imagine J. Lo was the last week she was carrying twins.

This has to stop. But only I can stop it. More writing down every morsel, more journaling about the emotional roller coaster that is my life to get all the feelings down on paper so I am not left alone with them at night. (They beckon to be comforted with ice cream and who am I to say "No.")

More, gulp, moving. This has been my biggest issue. Though I have cut down to just two gym memberships, I don't use either really. Ugh, all this getting real makes me want a donut. Oh, that's the other thing I have to do, make sure there are good groceries here all the time.

Because when I moved and when I groceried and when I ate right, the only thing I called eating pants was a pair of size 8 jeans.

Eatin' Pants

Pre Mature Champagne-U-lation

I like to make up words. My favorites were "Stressful-itis" and "Overwhelmed-ness" as in, "I've come down with a horrible case of stressful-itis due to the overwhelmed-ness I'm feeling at work. I read on this girl's blog, 100 days in bed that, in order to recover, I must immediately get under the covers with two old fashioned donuts."

But my new favorite word is "Pre Mature Champagne-U-Lation." That's when your friends pop champagne for you and you celebrate some good news and then the good news goes away. See, it's like a play on pre mature ejaculation, but less disgusting and sad.

Anyway, my friends and I pre mature champagne-u-lated on a job I was told I got. "It's your job! You beat out all the candidates. You should drink mass quantities of quality champagne in order to celebrate!"

Ooo, and we did. Then this "job" has mysteriously not come to fruition and I have the embarassing task of every Wednesday night, when we have our Project Runway Party, of updating all the guests that ask, "Hey, what happened with that job of yours we were celebrating?"

I'm usually a CALM, COLLECTED GIRL, but I feel like if I am asked one more time about said, mysteriously disappearing job, I might just scream, "YOU GOT TO DRINK FORTY-FIVE DOLLAR CHAMPAGNE! ISN'T THAT ENOUGH???? MUST YOU KEEP BARRAGING ME WITH THESE QUESTIONS?????"

But quite frankly, I don't want to get kicked out of the Project Runway Party because it's like, the best thing I've got going for me. Plus, I imagine if I were to make such a scene, as the hostess was bouncing me and my pup out they door, she might just turn to me an say, "You owe me $45.00 for that champagne."

Pre Mature Champagne-U-lation

The High Price of Feeling Low

It's expensive to be depressed. You would think you would save a lot of money on going out, 'cause you never want to go anywhere or see anyone; groceries, 'cause a bag of chips from 7-11 will suffice for the day; hair cuts and colors, 'cause what's the point if you never go out; clothing, 'cause sweat pants will do; utilities, because laying in the dark and not showering are you're number 1 hobby.

But all that savings doesn't amount up to the high price of feeling low.

And I'm not talking about how relationships, in my case, were strained: with the boy I loved, the friends I have (you become a flake when you constantly cancel or never show up anywhere), you're productivity slows because you never have the energy to do anything and your ass gets fat because you simultaneously don't move and don't care what you eat.

I'm talking monetarily, the high price, the cash, the cabbage, the hundred dollar bills y'all. Money mistakes depressed people make because they have their heads buried under the covers. I know. I've been there.

This weekend, having seen Suze Orman on every book in the library and every TV show I seemed to turn on (PBS! Oprah! Larry King!), I took it as a sign that I really needed to deal with my finances.

There is money laying in a 401k that had never been invested. There is a broken phone from Sprint that had never been sent back so they changed me $179.00. There's two companies threatening collection, although I know I paid those bills (I swear I did!) although I have not wanted to deal with calling my bank for the cancelled checks. How about those receipts that if I don't send into my insurance, I won't be reimbursed for? How about that free plane ticket I found that had expired because it was not prpoperly filed away?

It's all haunting me, day and night but the more I think about it, the more I want to crawl under the cozy covers with my fluffy Chihuahua and escape the choking OVER-WHELM-ED-NESS of it all.

I'm trying to shift my thinking. All this money, it adds up to like, a free vacation. Would I give up a free vacation? Would I give up two months rent?

Come on, BE A GROWN UP!
But I don't want to be.
It's so cute you think you have a choice.

The problem with me is I am an ALL or NOTHING girl. I want to handle all of this in one day or NEVER AT ALL. I think the thing with us recovering depress-ties and those of you with serious cases of Over-whelm-ed-ness and Stress-ful-itis is we have to make up realistic goals. Small goals.

Could I do two things a day? If I did two things a day, eight things would be done by Friday. It would reinforce to me, that it's not so hard to do it that way. I have this cute pink folder with a Hawaiian flower on it. I'm going to call it my TWO A DAY FOLDER.

Every thing that needs to be done will be filed on the left and the two things I'm gonna do that day will filed be on the right.

And all the money I save, will go into a little vacation account I'm going to start. And that will be the first thing I'm gonna do.

The High Price of Feeling Low