Monday, May 24, 2010

HOW TO: make yogurt NOT taste like shit.

I'm not sure if you've ever experienced plain yogurt, but it tastes like sour cream and cat poop had a love child and a rich, pretentious yogurt tycoon decided to turn it into a white "health food" and hire Jamie Lee Curtis to promote it to people with regularity issues. Well, thanks to the fact that I'm a dignified genius, I am posting the recipe for the best thing I've ever had in my mouth. 

Shelby's Non-Shitty Yogurt Mush:
Layered from top:
1 TBSP organic agave nectar
1 TBSP natural ground, honey-roasted peanut butter
1 TBSP mini dark chocolate chips
1 kiwi, sliced and halved (or fruit of your choice)
1/2 cup raw oats (hell yes I eat raw oats!)
1 TBSP flax seed
1/2 cup greek yogurt

I told you so. It looks pretty fancy, could probably serve this to some kind of prestigious guest of your's that agrees that yogurt tastes like shit...he'll think you're a genius for turning yogurt into a non-shitty yet delicious creation. 

But you better tell him that you're not the genius. 

You better or I will find you. If I can make yogurt taste delicious, imagine what I can do when I'm angry.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Won't you be my neighbor?

Dearest "Big Daddy" and "Dirty Girl",

You're both really nice people; I've met you a few times: in the parking lot of our apartment complex, once when you guys were cleaning your car, and the day that my cat fell off of my porch and into your's. Thanks again for being so understanding when I was hanging over your gate, in my racecar pajamas, yelling "PHOEBE BON QUI QUI, YOU BITCH, GET BACK HERE"...most people probably would have called the Police. You've both been incredibly patient with your obnoxious, part-hippie, furniture moving, hula-hooping neighbor (me), and I really appreciate that you handle the occasional noise so well. Thank you for not calling management or banging on your ceiling with a broomstick.

Your thankful neighbor,

PS: Congratulations on your growing family; it's so nice to see that you two are happily married and looking to reproduce: happy couples just enlighten my soul.

I apologize for being presumptuous, but procreation seems to be the only logical reason to have [very loud] sexual intercourse at 6:30 in the morning on Saturdays, 11:30 p.m. on weeknights, and around dinner time when my mother is visiting and I have to talk very loudly to avoid an awkward conversation with the woman who apparently partook in similar activities 19 years ago.

About a month and a half ago, it was about midnight and I had just fallen asleep…it had been one of those days where crawling into bed signifies stabbing the day in the heart with a giant, rusty butterknife…I was grateful for my slumber. I woke up about 7 minutes later to very loud screaming, banging, and the words “Give it to me, Big Daddy”. I went through approximately 6 different emotions in the span of the next FORTY-FIVE MINUTES: groggy, confused, entertained, submerged in hysterical laughter, irritated, and pissed off. I passed out and forgot about the incident until the next morning where I reasoned with myself, “Shelby, you sling hula-hoops around your house until the wee hours of the morning and they have never complained, you can let go of the one time they’ve had intercourse at an inappropriate volume”. And I did; I let it go…even when I saw the dominatrix in the parking lot that morning on my way to my car.

That weekend, my very good friend, Elizabeth, spent the night at my house. We were reading Cosmopolitan magazine, watching Catch and Release, and talking about cooties, estrogen, or horses when she said, “Shel, what’s that noise?” With my natural response being, “what noise?”, she said, “it sounds like someone is yelling”…”oh it’s probably just my frisky dingo neighbors”. Why am I always right? Thirty minutes of laughing, 8 obviously fake orgasms, and the 2 picture frames you knocked off of my wall later, Superman was finally done. Luckily I gave my cats the birds and the bees talk when they were younger or they would have been very confused.

I’ll admit, when this charade first began, I thought it was hilarious, entertaining, and probably a great alternative to pornography for the creepy guy that lives next door to you. It went from cheap amusement to inescapable misery pretty quickly; I’m almost positive that you are doing this on purpose now.

The worst part about all of this is that I’m not the only victim whose ears you are tainting with your loud, grunt-filled, 45-minute long sexcapades. Last night, I watched a family walking to their apartment from their vehicle while you two were recreating the Tommy Lee and Pam Anderson video with your window open…the parents shielded their children’s ears as they walked by. A few weeks ago, 3 teenage boys stood outside of your window for the entirety of the show; if you noticed this and did not stop, you are sick.

I had an epiphany last night: this isn’t the end…it can only get worse. There are a only few ways that this madness will stop: I move, you move, husband gets his penis chopped off by an angry neighbor and she goes to jail, husband and wife get a divorce, or this sex leads somewhere and you conceive. I know the former options sound worse, but trust me, the last option will probably lead to my demise. The only thing that would be worse than hearing your intercourse would be hearing the product of your intercourse: a crying shit-machine.

Please, for the love of God, keep the volume down and put a condom on. Consider this your warning. Thanks again for not reporting me to management; if you ever need a cup of sugar, I’m your girl.

Your disgruntled neighbor,

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Wurk Eth-ik

Work ethic [wurk eth-ik]:
A belief in the moral benefit and importance of work and its inherent ability to strengthen character.

I'm just making assumptions here, but I think Mr. Stanford (photographed) probably has a really good work ethic. He'll probably grow up to be exactly the person I'm describing.

I hear the phrase “work ethic” at least once a day…usually when I am at work and usually when someone is regarding how fantastic their own work ethic is. I’m 99% sure that I even wrote “fantastic work ethic” on my résumé’ at one point in time, but here is the truth: I do not care about my work ethic, your work ethic, or anyone else’s work ethic. 

I wouldn’t necessarily say that I have a BAD work ethic, but probably that I simply do not have one at all. Sometimes I work very, very hard at my job…I get everything done in a timely and efficient manner, I don’t plot to burn the building down, and I even remember to sign my timecard at the end of the day. And sometimes I accomplish USEFUL things: I pay my bills, check my bank account, read all of my blogs, respond to all of my emails, do my kegal exercises, log all of my food for the day, research ways to make my cats happy…and all without an ounce of stress.

Having a work ethic implies that you spend A LOT of time doing work, thinking about work, and even thinking about doing work…which then causes you to be stressed out when you get home, where your loving, sandwich-making wife then asks you,  "Honey buckets, what is wrong?" Of course you give her the nod-off answer of, “oh, nothing”, but she sees right through it…she’s been vacuuming your floors and folding your uncomfortable work slacks for too long not to notice. “You’re stressed about work”, she says…and you know she’s right; shit, why is she always right? Not only are you spending at least 40 hours at work, but now you are thinking about work when you should be enjoying the pot roast that your dinner-machine so diligently prepared for you. Due to the overwhelming stress, you even failed to notice that she forgot to give you a soda with your dinner…but it’s too late to bring it up now; dinner was over an hour ago…now she’s going to begin thinking that she can slip up and make mistakes because you won’t even notice…you’re probably just thinking about the expense report that is sitting on your desk. She’s right again…did you forget to turn it in? Yes, yes you did. Are you going to lose sleep over this? Of course you are. 

In the meantime, I left work at 4:54… 6 minutes early…and I’m drinking some tea and sitting in my porch-hammock with the wind blowing through my hair. Am I thinking about work? Hell no; I’m thinking about how glad I am that I don’t have a work ethic and I can think about nachos, summer-time, and used book stores whenever I want. Because guess what, expense report! You’re just going to enjoy your new home under the pile of other things I’ll probably never get to.

The Responsibility Champion award belongs to the fabulous Allie Brosh of I decided that she wouldn't mind the use of her photo with due credit and some linkage. Give her a visit (:

Monday, May 10, 2010

Multivitamin, you are no friend of mine.

I am becoming increasingly self-aware lately; my health and nutrition have been at the top of my priority list and I spend quite a bit of time reading health blogs and expanding my knowledge on this topic. A few months ago, I read an article about why people should take multivitamins, and naturally I decided that I should start taking multivitamins. I did some extensive research on what brand to buy, what vitamins to focus on, etc. So, wanting to find the best quality of supplement, I went to Walmart and picked out the One A Day Women’s Metabolism.

According to the packaging, the consumer should always take the pill with a full meal, so on day one, I took my multivitamin with breakfast and all was well. About an hour later, I vomited like a dinosaur.

For those of you who are questioning my terminology, “vomiting like a dinosaur” entails exactly what it sounds like. Picture a giant, majestic creature roaming around the flatlands of Dinosaur Land…he is tromping along, eating entire trees in one bite when suddenly, he feels like shit and he violently vomits his stomach content everywhere.

I had this horrible stomach issue for the next few days; actually missing work one day. Initially, I decided that I was pregnant and I needed to find a car to run me over immediately. After finding out that I was, in fact, sans fetus, I decided that I was ill-stricken. A few days into my perfect multivitamin regimen, I was running really late one morning and forgot to take my vitamin...I had a fantastic, vomit-free day. I then concluded that multivitamins make me vomit.

Saturday night, I was enjoying my weekly grocery experience at Whole Foods, when I noticed that they had free samples in the frozen vegetable aisle. I haven't been that excited since I accidentally ended up at Free Pastry Day at Starbucks. There was a basket with packets of hair conditioner, organic Bengay, and Zyflamend: an anti-inflammatory pill. Since I began training for my 5k, I've been experiencing issues with the tendinitis in my left knee, so I automatically thought "Oh, this could help my knee...and who the fuck says no to otherwise expensive, free samples?!" I shoved 4 packets of conditioner, 2 things of Bengay, and a package of Zyflamend into my pocket and went on my merry way to find cashews.

Because I do not do 5k training on weekends, I wanted to wait until the best possible day to try out my free (and much cheaper than physical therapy) remedy for my knee issues. I waited all weekend for Monday to arrive so that I could finally get relief for my busted joint (an issue I find inappropriate for a 19-year old).

I jumped out of bed this morning and reminded Phoebe and Penelope, my cats, that today was the day! I was going to eat half of my breakfast, take the pill with 8 oz. of water, and eat the rest of my breakfast…they didn’t care. So, sitting at my desk at work, I followed the directions exactly…

Problems identified:
1) The pill was black. That scared me. (I mean that in the least racist way possible; I am, in no way, insinuating that black things scare me; that is false. I am simply stating that most black foods are not delicious: i.e. black licorice, burnt toast, etc.)
2) The pill tasted like I imagine feet would taste like…if these feet were horribly charred and covered in barbeque sauce (my hypothesis was obviously correct; this pill was not delicious). I drank more water and ate my oatmeal: problem solved.

30 minutes later:
“Oh…oh ew. Oh shit.”

Anti-inflammatory pill=multivitamin?

I was in the bathroom, puking my guts out and trying my best to keep my dinosaur noises at a minimal volume, when a fellow employee yelled over the stall and asked me if I was A) pregnant and B)alright. I was not alright. With a string of saliva/vomit hybrid hanging from my mouth, I responded, "Fellow employee, being pregnant involves getting laid...and I clearly got so excited over free anti-inflammatory medication because I am getting so much ass."

I feel better now that I threw up this fetus though…being a pregnant stegosaurus is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

"Last year Shelby asked me how to set up a blog. Wanting to protect the world from being exposed to Shelby's brain I opened up a Word document on her computer and put an address at the top. I've read some of it. Even for the Internet it's...pretty shocking." is what I was going to call my blog, but apparently someone named Creed Bratton has already taken a similar URL address. "Straight From the Info-Dome" it shall be called instead.
You know, I really don't even know what motivated to make a personal blog, but it could be any one of the following reasons:
  • The fact that I subscribe to at least 10 extremely entertaining blogs and I feel that I owe the blogging community something in return for the delicious information I have received.
  • The concept that I've really fallen behind on my long-lost passion for writing.
  • The notion that I write entertaining things that other people might actually enjoy.
  • To discuss exciting (and not exciting) things occurring in my life right now.
  • To have a forum for leakage of excellence.
  • My plan to take over the world.
Actually, it is all of those reasons...with the exception of the last option. I don't think that taking over the world would be very fulfilling, to be honest. I hardly accomplish enough at my day-job to constitute it as an actual job, so I really wouldn't be very successful at running an entire planet.
While I know that my blog will never be as hilarious as Hyperbole and a Half, as informative as ZenHabits, as awesome as 1000awesomethings or as almond buttery as Heather Eats Almond Butter (those are 4 of my favorite blogs), I do think that it's a superb idea that I create a channel for hem..."info dome".