I fought Lent!Blog! and Lent!Blog! won

Perhaps four days after Easter is a good time to come back to the blogosphere, tail between my legs, to apologize for not having finished the epic blogging challenge that was Lent!Blog!

Back in the day, when I read crappy teen mags like Seventeen, there were often really pointless quizzes that my friends and I delighted ourselves with while tanning at the pool. For example, a question from the quiz "Can he tell you're into him?" would have read:

You meet up with some friends at the mall, and when it's time to go home, one guy you've been talking with asks if you'd like to hang out sometime. You:

a) write down your pager number*, screenname*, home phone number*, and address*, and tell him to call you that night

b) agree that would be great and give him one good way to contact you

c) say "sure" and that he can get your number from one of his friends - they all have it

After answering several inane questions like this, Seventeen, in its infinite wisdom, would tell you where you landed:

Mostly a's: Girl! Tone it down a bit! It's great that you like this guy, but it's never a turn-on to be too available. Lighten up, and you'll have him calling you in no time.

Mostly b's: You know it's sexy to be casual but flirty, and you're hitting your perfect mark. Don't forget to turn it up a notch once you've got him.

Mostly c's: You've taken "hard to get" to a whole new level - how is anyone supposed to feel confident around the Ice Queen?! Open up and let him see the fun side of you.

I have a point, and it's not to get you wondering when in the hell I traded teen mags for Contemporary Feminist Theory. My point is that even before you took the quiz, you knew where you'd stand. Right in the middle - the other sides of the spectrum were just too off-kilter.

That's kind of how I feel about Lent!Blog! When it comes to both blogging and religion, my interest in participation shifts between "avid" and "when it's convenient". So if you'd told me 45 days ago that I'd start out strong and then completely forget for the last few days, I wouldn't have been shocked. Still, I wish I would have sacked up and finished it off with gusto.

Anyway, thanks for tuning in and thanks to those who participated! It was super fun!

Do not let your daughters read this garbage.

* What up, 1999!

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And we're back

Hey did you know Easter hasn't yet happened? My bad, Lent!Blog! participants and beloved readers.

I had a dream last night that I was on a blind date with a man who informed me that the Winkelvoss twins were the true inventors of Facebook. Indignantly, I said something along the lines of "I know Mark Zuckerberg, and the Winklevosses are NOT Mark Zuckerberg." Then I threw my napkin on the table and walked out. It was riveting stuff. I felt like the world's saddest person when I woke up. Is this really what occupies the deep recesses of my mind?

Anyway, it brought up an interesting point - in my dream, my dating litmus test was apparently the age-old totally ridiculous conflict between three rich kids from Harvard.

What is your dating litmus test? Explain. Have you ever broken it for *swoon* true love?

IRL, I have a thousand dating litmus tests, the majority of which were first decided my junior year of college during an epic conversation with my friend Emily. Some of them are silly - no puka shells, for god's sake! - and some of them were more serious - I remember wishing for someone who was neither godless nor born-again. Some were depressing to even have to write down (the carpenter jean is dead, fellas. Unless your job requires that you have a loop on your jeans, you need to retire them. Preferably this would be accomplished via a bonfire, and you should invite the ex-girlfriends who stood by you through thick and thin, light-wash utility denim to give the eulogy).

Now, at the ripe old age of 25, I know all the above doesn't mater. Emily is madly in love with someone who loves both puka shells AND carpenter jeans, for example. And I've had fascinating conversations with guys who sit on both sides of the religious spectrum. Some dealbreakers aren't as black and white once you're in the thick of a relationship, but there is one I cannot bend on.

My biggest litmus test is how guys talk about the LGBT community. I have no patience for anyone who uses derogatory slang, or who can't have an intelligent discussion on gay rights. The "you're so gay" slams, still a popular favorite among some guys stuck in high school ten years later, are an unbelievable turnoff. Alternately, those who can engage in thoughtful conversation about this topic are usually mature, intelligent, and confident in themselves. All of those are, naturally, turn-ons.

In the end, it comes down to this - I've got this guy on a pedestal:

And anyone who doesn't believe that he deserves every happiness under the law, doesn't deserve to date me.

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Day 36: Peek in the life

Share a convo or snippet of your day.

This morning, about four hours after I'd woken up, I found a piece of sleep in my eye.

"Did you see I had sleep in my eye? Why didn't you tell me? Gross," I said to Eric.

"I dunno. It wasn't that bad," he responded.

A few minutes later, he reached over to poke at something below my eye.

"More sleep?!" I asked.

"I thought so. I think it's actually a pimple, though."

Then we both went back to reading and drinking coffee. Not exactly the stuff of a Taylor Swift song, but I'm sure someday soon we'll get caught dancing in a rainstorm while I'm wearing a sundress, and it'll all work itself out.

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Day 35: Strange (online) bedfellows

Who is the most random person you follow online? Choose someone you don't know, don't know how you found, or even someone you love to hate. Why do you do it?

I've been wanting to write a post about this for months. I follow Mike Tyson on Twitter. I should really hate Mike Tyson, and I think in many ways I do. But he's also unbelievably interesting, and his transparent quest for grace over the past few years has been undeniably compelling.

Let's look at the facts: the man was convicted of rape in the 90's, and of spousal abuse in a marriage that his ex-wife called "torture, pure hell." He has eight children, from multiple women, and until recently, has said that he felt no reason to be faithful to his girlfriends or wives. Oh and he bit a man's ear off.

Mike Tyson is a terrible human being, certainly. But he's the first one to admit that now.

"The first stage of my life was just a whole bunch of selfishness. Just a whole bunch of gifts to myself and people who didn't necessarily deserve it. Now I'm 44, and I realize that my whole life is just a fucking waste... So if there's a big plan now, it's just to give—it's selflessness, caring for the people who deserve it. Because I think I'm a pig. I have this uncanny ability to look at myself in the mirror and say, 'This is a pig. You are a fucking piece of shit.'" - Details magazine, Aug. 2010

Tyson was raised amidst violence, and then made a career out of what he calls "wanting to kill, maim" people - he says that all good boxers are trained to act like monsters in the ring. Then he took this lifestyle outside the ring, and he lost everything because of it. When his daughter died tragically in 2009, he reevaluated his life and has since dedicated himself to a full, lifelong recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, as well as his admitted rage issues.

In a culture where we seem to forgive and forget horrific acts committed by the rich and famous (Vick's lauded NFL comeback, Sheen's current sold-out tour) after minimal apology or retribution, I think it's admirable that Tyson is consistently working to apologize for his past transgressions rather than ignore them. (Perhaps he could tutor Chris Brown?)

He tweets about philosophy and his new vegan lifestyle, of sitting with his wife while she breastfeeds their child. On a recent trip to Prague, he wished to be at home with his kids. He talks often about how his wife's love is the greatest gift he's been given, and that he doesn't feel he deserves it. I really want to believe it's not an act, even after his account this week changed from gratitude to promotion of his new iPhone game.

Why am I so invested in his recovery? I think it stems from knowing the inherent narcissism of addicts firsthand; Tyson represents the post-addiction stage that friends and families of addicts always wish for, but aren't ever sure is possible.

Last week he tweeted, "I'm glad I grew up to be a human being, instead of a millionaire or billionaire."

I hope that first part is true, though I suspect he's still a millionaire.

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Day 34: Thursday Joy

What's making you happy today?

For the last few days, I've been basking in the glow of a supremely clean apartment. All credit for this goes to my roommate, who spent her day off doing some major scrubbing and slight redecorating in our humble abode.

As usual, I'm 8-10 months late on the Instagram trend, and even with their awesome application my pictures still look kinda sad. Nevertheless, look at how adorable our apartment is, just in time for a late spring!

This table brings me so much joy.

People watching from the breakfast nook is heaven.

Everyone should have a chalkboard dedicated to Mason Jennings lyrics.

Happy Thursday, amigos. But seriously, can it be Friday at 5 PM yet?

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Day 33: Share some expertise

All of us here at Lent!Blog! have relatively different backgrounds. Share some advice/expertise that you think others could benefit from.

Last year I took on a six month freelance project, and I also coach on the side for five months out of the year. So far, I've found that I'm pretty good at balancing my regular career and life with my tack-on money makers. Here's what I've learned that other people might benefit from if they're thinking of freelancing or taking on a second job.

1. Establish ground rules for Job 2.0
My main rule is that Job 2.0 can't detract from Job 1.0. I can’t attend daytime meetings, can't look at project docs after 9 and before 5. (With dance, I leave work early a few times a week, but I give my boss a schedule of these days a week in advance.)

2. Follow up regularly
Unlike your 9-5, a freelance client isn’t able to walk by and see what you’re working on. If you have an impending freelance deadline, check in frequently. You’ll know you have the most up-to-date info on the project, and your client won’t be worried that you are leaving everything to the last minute.

3. Schedule meet-ups in the flesh, if possible
Again, water cooler chats are out of the question. By scheduling a weekly meeting you can be certain to go over your impending schedule live, negotiate any prior commitments that might get in the way (which in emails can seem demanding but in person are easier to get across), and get to the details that would take seven bullet points and serious color coding in email. Plus for god’s sake people, face to face interaction won’t kill you.

4. Take notes
From phone meetings, live meetings, and in my case, notes on events gone bad/good. If you’re working full-time plus, you’re going to be exhausted. Your brain won’t remember the little details, and you’ll be more likely to drop the ball on something. Notes ensure that you can keep up to speed on everything without feeling like you’re on overload.

5. Don’t overschedule the rest of your life
As much as possible, keep your schedule flexible. Usually my friends/family/boyfriend understand that I can’t participate in hastily planned activities, but I hate missing the spontaneous fun. My advice is to map out big things you want to attend, and stick to them. If you make sure to schedule in cabin weekends, date nights and family dinners, you’ll be less upset when you have to miss last minute happy hours or movie nights.

6. Wake up early
During the dance season, I'm often gone from 8 AM until 10 PM, so there is no room for poor planning. When I leave for work in the morning I’m stocked with the day’s food supply, a multitude of layering options, practice plans and handouts, workout gear... and a cup of coffee I had enough time to brew, ensuring that I feel good about the day ahead.

7. Double your coffee budget
Well, not really. But consider the cost of taking on the project - for me, both dance and freelancing meant a lot of gas money, as well as on-the-fly meals and extra coffee purchases. If you’re being paid an hourly rate, ask yourself how much of that will be used to cover your own sanity and driving costs. If it’s significant, reevaluate the value of the project. And always work on ways to cut down your own bottom line- accept rides to carpool with team members if you have them, keep a stash of Clif bars handy for when you have to miss a meal, make friends with the evening baristas in the hopes of scoring an upgraded drink.

8. Know that it’s all going to come crashing down
I’m not Type A, so I can handle the inevitable moment of crushing defeat pretty well. There are inevitable work-work conflicts, days when I forget lunch, pep rallies I have to supervise using PTO. As my very smart friend Greta (and, I learned, her good friend Ma$e) like to say, “Breathe, Stretch, Shake, Let it Go”. We’re probably not programmed to work full-time plus while balancing social lives, personal time, and acceptable hygiene standards. So when you mess up, make sure to keep it in perspective instead of assuming that your mistake is proof that your can’t pull off a second job.

Freelancing can be a responsible way to explore a potential new career path, or to pursue a passion that you can’t afford to work on full-time. But truth be told, it isn’t for everyone. If you’re like me and organized chaos is appealing and even a little thrilling, then do it! You won’t regret the challenge, even if you decide that you’re better at working during standard business hours.

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Day 32: Admit defeat, part two

When I was in 7th grade, the super cool 8th graders got to do the fake baby project, where they had to carry dolls around with them all the time, and feed/change/care for them. Four days in, a particularly overachieving 8th grader boarded the bus in tears.

"I'm going to fail Family Life!" she wailed.

The night before, she had forgotten to get a babysitter for her basketball practice. Her baby sat in the gym while she rebounded and ran drills for an hour, and now she was certain that she'd fail the class because of her parental neglect.

I tried to be sympathetic, but I knew that her failure at parenting was fully expected. They want you to make mistakes, so you realize you aren't ready to be a parent yet, I explained to her. Then I probably rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking. I was pretty annoyed at her inability to see the very obvious life lesson of this project.

I'm realizing that my Lent!Blog! failure is a lot like the fake parenting failure. I've been crabby at myself for my inability to blog over the last few days but in all honesty, I should have seen this coming. I haven't done a Lenten sacrifice in something like six years, and I no longer voluntarily attend church so... it should come as no surprise to me that I'm not as beholden to this project as I assumed I'd be.

I also realized this morning that I somehow counted wrong... how am I on Day 32, when Easter is not for another 12 days?

Struggles, all.

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Day 31: Face a fear

I'm running low on prompts and/or enthusiasm for Lent!Blog!

Somehow, I think all of the L!B! participants are going to give me a pass for having missed the last two days. Thanks, amigos, for being such good sports/slackers.

One of my favorite things about my friend Joel is that he's deathly afraid of blue whales. He knows all kinds of factoids about blue whales (their hearts are as big as a VW Beetle!), which he says he memorized because "you should always know as much as possible about your enemies". Joel is the most logical person I know, except when it comes to blue whales.

What's your most irrational fear? Where do you think it stems from?

I wrote about my irrational fears a few months ago, but my biggest fear remains that my credit card will be declined. Except my fear is no longer irrational, because it recently came true. This weekend, I tried to buy a pair of shoes online, from Zappos, and my bank flagged my purchase. Then they shut off my card. I didn't realize this until I went to the grocery store for one jar of salsa, and I was declined. MOR-TI-FY-ING.

So I called my bank, and a nice man informed me that my card was flagged because Zappos is out of state and so they thought I had been "compromised". Ahem.

What I said to this man was, "I think your system is a little strange, considering that most online purchases are going to appear out of state. Nevertheless, can you kindly turn me back on? Also, am I free to buy the moccasins I so covet now or will I be again appear compromised?"

What I wanted to say was, "Are you mad? Zappos is one of the largest e-commerce sites in the nation. Do you shut everyone down that wants a pair of moccasins with free shipping? And of course it shows up as out of state! Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if there was one down the block from me? Furthermore, do you know what it's like to have the woman at the grocery store look at me and think I can't afford a jar of salsa? Do you?"

Robert assures me this won't happen again, yet somehow I know I'm going to be paying for everything in cash for the next six months to ensure I avoid humiliation.

As for you ^, I remain undeterred. You will be mine.

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Day 28: Air a grievance

Perhaps you're alarmed about the state of our nation, the lack of educated and intelligent media coverage, or maybe you can't find a grocery store with ripe avocados. Air a grievance, any grievance.

I've been discouraged all day - if it were true that your face freezes when you keep the same unnatural expression for too long, my brows would be forever furrowed into a look of abject despair and exhaustion.

This excellent NYT editorial details what the budget impasse is really about - abortion, healthcare and environmental protection. I think that's pretty true, but it's also about children who never learned to share their sandbox toys, who were inexplicably selected to run our country. It's about a broken two-party system that has removed all sense of logic from politics. It's about a media system so focused on incendiary rhetoric that it has personally elevated a man previously known for his combover to presidential candidate status... while simultaneously turning us into creatures who feel we can understand complex political and sociological issues via 30-second soundbites.

Meanwhile, most of us are truly on the same side here, right? Before you hit comment and say NO, stop and think a minute. Have you ever used birth control? Have you ever seen smog and worried that the planet you're leaving your children is not the same one into which you were born? Have you looked at Trump and thought, "Whack job"?

We're on the same team, people. It's just better for business to convince us that the issues are black and white, that being Christian and socially liberal are mutually exclusive, that you can't support global warming and wish for lower taxes. Rational thinking is no longer rewarded, and so the small differences we have, philosophically, with one another, are positioned as impassable schisms that will forever divide us.

It doesn't have to be like this. I can't believe that a country built on the intelligence and innovation of a group of rational thinkers in an irrational time can't now find a way to put a swift end to the outrageous smoke and mirrors show that our governmental system has become.

How do we fix it? I think it starts with intelligent discourse - find someone you disagree with, and don't leave until you've found some kind of common ground. Don't rely on the talking points you're hearing, but rather rethink what you know and why it is important to you. Try to leave with a better understanding of where they come from, what has affected their opinions and why that is important.

How we fix it, I think, is to treat one other like human beings instead of enemies. And then, to demand that our elected officials do the same.

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Day 27: Mistaken identity

I recently watched North by Northwest, a delightful Hitchcock film about a case of mistaken identity. You've probably at least seen the scene where Cary Grant outruns and outwits a cropduster:

or the scene where Eve Marie Saint is all "I could run faster if I weren't in these heels, but it's 1959 and even when scaling Mount Rushmore I have to remain ladylike."

Where was I? Oh yeah, the whole movie's plot is set around Cary Grant raising his hand at a supremely unwise time in a restaurant, which leads to group of thugs kidnapping and trying to kill him.

Naturally this leads me to today's prompt:

When have you been mistaken for someone else? Did chaos and/or attempted murder ensue?

Alternate: If you've never actually been mistaken for someone else, tell us what celebrity people say you look like.

I'm currently being mistaken on a monthly basis for someone I am definitely not: a mother. This fall, I began receiving Similac "Strong Moms" mailings. It began innocently enough - with a sincere congratulations on my phantom baby, and some coupons. Then they upped the ante with parenting tips, an invitation to be part of the Strong Moms online network and... drumroll... two canisters of formula. You can throw away coupons and flyers, but it didn't feel right to throw away perfectly good baby food. There it sits in my pantry, a daily reminder that in an alternate universe, someone thinks I need advice on weaning, diaper rashes and developmental milestones.

My roommate, after attending a bridal fair with an engaged friend, is also suffering a case of mistaken identity as a bride-to-be. She gets Bride magazine, and wedding day specials are mailed to our place. This is entertaining because (whatever, I'll say it) anyone who buys pre-engagement bridal magazines is a little batty, and my roommate is so not that girl. Nevertheless, the new issue sits on our coffee table each month, reminding her boyfriend that if he were dating anyone else but J, this would be a highly inappropriate subscription.

The thought of two husbands and a child living in our 2BR, quaint-as-can-be Uptown apartment is pretty entertaining, but it won't ever culminate with me scaling Mount Rushmore while on the run from my ex-lover who I lured in under false pretenses.

Which is too bad. That would be pretty neat, and I'm way better at running in heels than Eve Marie Saint was.

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Day 26: Catchphrase

What's your catchphrase, or most overused word?

I'm really big on the word juju. As in, "I'm sending you good juju."

Lots of people have laughed at me for my juju sending, but I don't care. I love juju. And if you have a big day coming up, I'll send you juju all day long.

Juju is happy, fresh and sincere. It doesn't require the sender and receiver to believe in the same deity, and it doesn't connote any sadness, like when you say you're thinking of someone.

So the next time you're trying to impart hopeful, nonjudgmental, nondenominational wishes upon someone, tell them you're sending them all your best juju. The really good stuff. It totally works.

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Day 25: Compliment

What is the best compliment you’ve ever been given? Do you agree with it? Go ahead, you can brag just this once. If you’re a Lent!Blog! participant, you’re probably pretty awesome.

You know that conversation during an amicable breakup when, to neutralize all the sadness and all the talk of what you are not, your soon-to-be ex tells you all the things that you are? And then you do the same, until you're both kind of weirdly happy while still being pretty damn upset? Well, my greatest compliment comes from one of those tragic-comic conversations I had a few years ago.

“You’re the most resourceful person I’ve ever met,” he said.

It wasn't romantic, it wasn't even sentimental. But I loved that he said it. I think about it all the time – I relish in how it is true now, and wonder how it will impact my future.

Many people are intelligent, and can utilize the latent skills within to propel themselves forward. Others are lucky – born in the right circumstances, or always in the right place at the right time.

Those are both nice qualities, and I think I have a hint of each of them. But I know my real strength lies in my inner tenacity, my ability to ask the right questions and inability to say no. The best part of being resourceful, though, is that it requires a wide net of supporters. Often, finding the best solution occurs not by Googling or through trial and error, but by filing through your contacts and realizing you know a guy, who knows a guy, who can help. Being resourceful means that you have to maintain relationships so when you do ask for help, people are more than willing to comply.

I’m terrible at Excel and I once nearly had a meltdown when some long-hidden macros popped out of an old document I'd repurposed. The deadline was looming. I cursed myself for not having started from scratch, cursed myself for not having a left brain, and then, I emailed the document to the above ex-boyfriend with a plea for help. He was, among other things, the left brain guy, and his work life consisted mostly of complex things in Excel I couldn’t even begin to understand. In three minutes, I had the spreadsheet back, no longer riddled with auto-tabbing columns and other problematic additives.

In the email, he wrote “Happy to help.” And I know he was.

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Day 24: Anticipation

Yes, I skipped Day 23, and no, I won't be making up for it. Neither will you, Lent!Blog! participants. Moving on...

What are you looking forward to in the near future?

"Anticipation...

... is making me late...

... is keeping me waiting."

My friends and I are all educated, relatively sane individuals. None of us have Team Jacob or Edward t-shirts, and we don't generally talk about celebrities as though they're our friends. Then, over the course of the last few years, we've found ourselves saying things like "I want Eric and Tami Taylor's marriage" and "Why is Tim Riggins so incapable of making good decisions?" and "I wish Tim Riggins was real so I could save him from himself and also kidnap him and force him to sit shirtless in my living room 24 hours a day."

The obsession is, of course, Friday Night Lights. Tomorrow, the fifth and final (THANKS A LOT, NBC, FOR RUINING EVERYTHING) season goes on sale and my four girlfriends and I will gather in my apartment to begin watching it together. There will be: tears, fist pumps, many swears when Rigs doesn't appear in an episode, and of course... there will be wine.

In all seriousness, if you've never watched this show, you should. Friday Night Lights has won Peabody awards, both genders can appreciate it, and the casting directors must have found a black hole of actors because the young cast members are both talented and attractive (I'm looking at you, Gossip Girl). This show is seriously fantastic.

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Day 21: Life advice

Let's make it short and sweet this lovely Friday.

Give some words to live by.

"Four Butts" - Summer 2007

Advice credit: the lovely Brandi.

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Day 18: Do you love your 'hood?

Why do you love where you live?

I love my neighborhood because it's within walking distance to my favorite:

Lake

Neighborhood Breakfast Joint

Furniture store

Bars (esp. this one)

At least four Thai restaurants (esp. this one)

... as well as tons of other restaurants, theaters, gyms, and walking paths.

If I could someday own a home in East Isles, I'd be the world's happiest woman. For now, I'm gleefully renting a two bedroom pad that's home to me and my fabulous roommate. Behold us in our natural habitat, making the age-old "One-eyed pirate" and "Duck" faces.

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Hop skip and a jump to Day 17: Want

I have it on good authority (thanks, Facebook) that the fine participants of Lent!Blog! were busy doing real stuff in the real world this weekend, so we're going to give ourselves a "blogging bye" and return to the Challenge today.

I've been relatively thrifty lately, but the promise of spring is getting to me. I'm itching for sundresses, flats, brightly-colored jewelry, a pedicure. In reality, I'm putting my hard-earned dollars into the same old buckets: student loans, rent, car payment, insurance, savings. And I'm noticing that despite my diligence, I'm still not on the verge of an early retirement. Shocker, no?

In honor of us all being such great bill-payers, I vote we hit up Fantasy Island, if only for a few minutes.

Name three things you want, and don't you dare feel guilty while doing so.

MacBook Pro, for how many more years will I covet you?

I have a perfectly decent coffee maker but french press just looks sexier.

This is one of about seven ruffled duvets I have bookmarked. And yet, each night I fall asleep under the rough Ikea comforter I purchased approximately five years ago. (Seriously, Ikea, just tell me the truth. Is your bedding made of horse hair?)

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Day Fourteen: Bucking the trend

What bandwagon have you yet to jump on? Why?

I realized yesterday that nearly everyone I converse with on the Internets has run a marathon. For example, Lent!Blog! participants Joe, Greta, and Teresa have all completed a marathon, as have KC and Emily. Jamie will run her first tomorrow. (Sara and Jenny, I'm not sure about your past marathon experience. If you have run one or five, congrats! You're crazy too.)

Then there's me. I don't so much run, although I'm really good at making plans to run. A few weeks ago I went on a "run" around Lake of the Isles and the only second of it I found enjoyable was when I did a full on grand jete (ballet's flying leap) over a big puddle so as to avoid getting mud on my leggings. The moment my feet hit the pavement again, I grimaced and had only one thought. Running sucks so hard.

As a young urban dweller, I feel like I might get kicked out of the city limits if I don't figure out how to run soon. I've learned at this point not to promise any workout plan to this blog, yet a little part of me knows it's now or never for me - I live next to one of the most idyllic running paths in the city, I have few post-work commitments, and I'm increasingly blaming my clothes for having shrunk instead of taking responsibility for what is surely an "artificial cheese cracker" weight gain. If not now, when?

The goal is small - I'd love to be able to casually say I ran five miles. Wouldn't that be neat? (To be clear, there is nothing neat about having all your toenails fall off, even if you do get to say it's because you ran 26.2 consecutive miles.)

Running friends - can you recommend some good jams? In addition to being a terrible runner, I'm also programmed to run directly on beat due to a few too many years as a sequin-bedecked jazz dancer. The one time I tried running to a podcast, as Joe suggested, I ended up sprawled in the grass after a mile, crying as I listened to Ira Glass wrap up a This American Life story on kidnapping radio in Colombia. So, please direct your suggestions more towards Shakira than NPR if possible.

And in all seriousness, while I don't get the marathon thing, I have the utmost respect for anyone who completes one. Best of luck tomorrow Jamie!

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Day Thirteen: Guilty Pleasure

You know those pudding sundae cup commercials, where an impossibly lithe and gorgeous woman leans in conspirationally towards the camera, offering her secret to staying fit while still indulging in her favorite guilty pleasures? And then her secret is to eat a 100 calorie cup of pudding?

Yeah, those commercials suck. The problem with those ads is that they are pretending to understand the art of a guilty pleasure, but there’s nothing fun about a pudding cup. Guilty pleasures should be mortifying, or full of empty calories. There’s no need for the sexy eyebrow raise and the come hither motion when endorsing a product that is also endorsed by this guy:

So, Lent!Blog! participants, what’s your guilty pleasure? Really now, make it embarrassing. Make it count.

My guilty pleasure is that I have, for about seven years now, had a huge love for Ashlee Simpson. That’s right, I love Jessica Simpson’s relatively talent-less younger sister. In 2004, Ashlee released “Autobiography,” an album I rocked out to almost exclusively the summer before freshman year of college. My girlfriends and I met weekly to watch her MTV reality show, and insisted on scream-singing “You make me wanna LA LA!” as we cruised around the lakes with our windows down. I thought she was kind of edgy. I've never claimed to be cool.

Pre-plasticized

It’d be one thing if I had outgrown Ashlee, but I haven’t. Six songs from “Autobiography” are still on my workout loop, and sometimes out of nowhere I find myself singing “I didn’t steal your boyfriend!” when lounging around my apartment. In the battle of Ashlee Simpson vs. Lohan for Wilmer Valderamma's love, I was always firmly on Team Ashley.

One of the things I like best about A Simp's songs is that I sound almost as good singing them as she does. Let me state for the record, that I am nearly tone-deaf and have not even a full octave range to work from some days. I get sick of having to drown out my own voice when belting out Dawes or The Swell Season, and it's sometimes nice to pretend that I have a tiny pool of musical talent pumping through my veins.

When I recently heard my girl Ash is working on a forthcoming folk album, I actually got excited. It’ll probably be the first album to be ½ folk vibe, ½ heavy auto-tune. I’m probably going to buy it the day it drops.

Hate me yet? Good. That's what guilty pleasures are for.

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Day eleven: Turn and face the strain

What is one change, big or small, that you've had to deal with lately? Was it hard? Why or why not?

My new big change is my blog design. I've hated my other one for awhile - I'm not as cute or dainty as it suggested - so I'm excited to start fresh.

That said, I know nothing about HTML code so today's lunch hour was quite comical. "Delete - preview - undo - delete something else- preview - undo", for an hour, until I had to return to work. It at least resembles what I want it to look like now, though none of the adorable tabs at the top lead to anything, and my twitter feed is gone. Also, the title of my blog is also now GRUNGE THEME. In theory I know how to fix that, but it'll require my design skills to come out. So, this blog might be known as GRUNGE THEME for a few months.

Nevertheless, I'm excited for the future of A Wooden Nickel. Facelifts are always fun, so long as they don't require anyone's actual face.

What are you waiting for? Get out of your readers, visit my actual site and tell me what you think!

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Days nine and ten: Signs of adulthood, and not so much

This is where, for the purpose of Lent!Blog! I mention something about even God resting on Sundays, and how I decided to take a hint from the Book of Genesis. In all seriousness, sorry for bailing yesterday, participants.

Two prompts today, to get us back on track.

What is one recent sign that you're really and truly an adult?

This morning, I woke up an hour early so I could meet with a money manager before work.* If you're wondering why this is a huge sign of adulthood, you've never seen the interactions I have with my alarm clock on a weekday morning. On a good day, I snooze twice. On a bad day, I can convince myself I don't need to: shower, eat, blowdry, iron, put makeup on, or all of the above. Today, I voluntarily attended an 8 AM coffee meeting to discuss my retirement savings and I didn't even look homeless when I arrived. Go adult me!

What is one recent sign you're not so grown up, after all?

Where to start? Well, I stayed up past 5 AM on Saturday night chatting, which led pretty naturally to a 12:30 PM wakeup yesterday. I then went to a grocery store with a Redbox machine, and ended up leaving with two awful movies, a pizza, and a bag of "XTRA CHEDDAR!" Flavor-Blasted Goldfish. Last and perhaps most tellingly, my pet name from the new guy is "Booger." I'm not exactly a bastion of adulthood, but then again, I don't have to be.

Tangent:

*The kind of person I actually want managing my tiny savings, not some rando who stalker calls me on a "recommendation from a friend." Doesn't it seem like everyone who calls on a referral then references the friend you would consult dead last on anything involving your savings or responsibility? Seriously people, if you're going to ask me to turn over my hard-earned dollars to you, try not to have our common bond be a guy I know as "Naked Pete."

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