Old Lady Marge

Boom! That's it. Year-28 Challenge over.

Today is my birthday and I've now officially blogged EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR. That's 365 posts, for those of you who forgot how long it takes the Earth to orbit the Sun.

In honor of this joyous occasion, let's watch a short video of me on my sixth birthday.




How precious. Who could have predicted that seven years later I would type the word "grassyllama" at random into my AOL instant messenger registration and set the course of the remainder of my life.

An actual book from my G-ma's actual bookshelf.

Be back tomorrow (or will I?),

Margaret

P.S. Andy and I went to Jazz Alley tonight and on the guy's second-to-last song, he revealed he's Clint Eastwood's son. Way to bury the lead! Andy and I laughed silently about it while pretending to pop our heads to the beat intellectually.

P.P.S. Planning to respond to the Facebook birthday wishes individually tomorrow because 10:18pm on a Tuesday is no time to start such a task. But as always, it reminded me of why I keep Facebook around. Every annoying ad or banal status is worth it for the potpourri of birthday greetings you get once a year.

5 things you don't have to feel guilty about

Of all the human emotions, guilt is probably the worst. Sure, it can be an appropriate response to a genuine wrongdoing, allowing us to recognise our errors and feel remorseful. But for the most part, guilt is misguided, damaging and ultimately unproductive. We spend far too much time feeling guilty when we shouldn't.

Not too long ago, I decided to make a concerted effort to cut guilt out of my life completely. And I'm not going to feel bad about it!

If you find guilt creeping into your psyche far too often, here are just five (of many) scenarios that you no longer need to beat yourself up over:

1. Getting an expensive haircut

"You wear your hair every day."

Those are my aunt Barbara's famous words of wisdom. How right she is! If you feel bad about getting a somewhat high-end haircut, ask yourself if you would spend the same money on a pair of jeans or some new running shoes. Would you? Of course you would, and you only wear those items a couple times a week.

2. Eating carbs

If you're American, this one might seem controversial. If you're not, this one might seem obvious. Either way, it's important to recognise that carbs are OK. They're absolutely fine.

In fact, based solely on my personal experience (and thus, 100% scientific fact) carbohydrates are key to feeling full and satisfied. Without them, you're more likely to get hungry between meals and binge on dry dry drier than dry unsalted almonds.

3. Not sending Christmas cards / Birthday cards

If you find the time and have the motivation, then send away! If it's December 26th and you've completely dropped the ball, rest assured that nobody cares. Cards are fun to get, but most people won't notice if they don't get one.

Same goes for birthdays. If it's your friend's birthday and you haven't sent them anything, just give them a call.

4. Having a slow work day

I've talked about this before. Some days are more productive than others—that's just the cold, hard truth. If you've been staring at that blank Word document for an hour, take a break and walk to your nearest artisan coffee shop. There's no point in trying to force inspiration that isn't there. You'll be better tomorrow.

5. Being a privileged, middle class Westerner

It's easy to look at the lives of less fortunate people across the world and feel guilty about the privilege you were born into. But feeling guilty doesn't change anything. It's also irrational to blame yourself for circumstances you have no control over. Instead of feeling guilty, look for ways you can improve the lives of people around you and try your best to enjoy the life you have (e.g. eating carbs and not whining about feeling guilty).

A privileged British man about to dig into some creamy mashed potatoes. 

Yuck! I hate this post. It feels preachy and very far from the Madgespace brand. Oh well, it's not like I'm going to write another one tonight! HAHAHAHA. Yeah right! I've got TV to watch, fishcakes to eat and dry skin all over my body to scratch.

See ya,
Margaret

P.S. Let's bring back 'yeah right'. It's so sarcastic and sassy, and I feel like it's not as popular as it was in the 90s.

Happy Birthday Andy Williamson!

Andy Williamson—rabble-rouser, cricketer, English tutor, male model, chatty kathy, maverick and friend to everyone—turns 28 today!

If you're lucky enough to know the guy personally, then you understand what a unique specimen he is. Never has there been anyone so irresistibly likeable, yet so aggressively irritating. He'll make you a cup of tea and then poke you in the bottom with a spatula when you bend over to pick it up. That's our Andy. Nothing is sacred. Every moment is an opportunity for mischief. And he is nothing if not consistent. Unwavering. Relentless in his waggishness.

But much like Sears, Andy has a softer side.

He warms my PJs on the radiator as a nice treat for when I get home. He hand-writes letters to his students with feedback on their progress. He ends every phone conversation—whether it's with his grandma or a guy on his cricket team—with "I love you."

Right now, I can hear him singing Taylor Swift in the shower ("Rammy's gonna ram ram ram ram ram...").

Indeed, when you get past the bum-poking, shoulder-biting, ill-timed puns and prank phone calls, Andy has a heart of gold. He's thoughtful, intelligent and as dependable as a Swiss watch.

Happy Birthday, Ram!

Andy through the years

Young Andy, age 3?

High school Andy with pals.

Early uni years Andy.
Image by Samantha Crago via Facebook

Andy the university graduate.
Image by Chris Devine via Facebook

Andy in his post-university "figuring life out" stage.
Image by Chris Williamson via Facebook

Professional, hunky Andy with a new and improved wardrobe.

Layered Andy on the annual January 2nd Woodcutters cricket match.

HB AW,

Margaret

Pizza now, pizza tomorrow, pizza forever

OK, here we go again.

Day 3. Just 362 to go.

Reality is really starting to set in.

But let's not dwell on that! Time is a wastin' and I have a half-watched Mindy Project to get back to.

Today's topic: food! More specifically, pizza. If you know me at all, then you know how much I love the stuff. I've also been known to argue that pizza isn't that bad for you. Because it isn't! It's basically just tomatoes, cheese and bread. What's so bad about that?

Top tip: I like to sprinkle rocket, aka arugula aka rucola aka peppery greens on my pizza after it comes out of the oven! 

Top tip: I like to put my foot on the oven handle when posing for a photo next to my homemade pizzas!

It just seems like pizza gets a disproportionally bad rap. It might not be kale or roasted pumpkin seeds or acai berry (yikes, my health food references are so dated), but it's not a Krispy Kreme donut either. Yet, we—SOCIETY—have made pizza the villain.

Why am I so defensive? Because I'm going to have pizza tonight for the second night in a row. I made it last night with Andy, and Char's hosting a belated birthday 'za party for me this evening.

In the interest of balance and fairness, I will say that there's another side to the pizzathusiast lifestyle. A dark side. A greasy underworld. I've witnessed it first hand.

The year: 2007
The city: Spokane
The pizza joint: Eatza Pizza on Division Street

All you can eat pizza for just $5 each? Sounds too good to be true, we thought, as we pulled into the parking lot. Foreshadowing alert: it was. 

Fivers in our pockets and pizza on our minds, my friends and I headed into the no-frills family restaurant with high hopes. It actually felt like walking into the inside of a pizza. The velvety red carpet, the mozzarella-white curtains, the oily leather cushions in the curved bell pepper booths. It was like a pizza-themed ride at a budget amusement park. I had the sudden urge to blot my face with a napkin.

We approached the large buffet table. It ran almost the length of the restaurant, yet only three small pizzas lay before us. Enough for a couple slices each, without being rude to the other patrons. As the evening went on, we realised that this was a huge part of Eatza Pizza's business model. It was indeed 'all you can eat', but only if you had the time to sit around and wait for them to make the pizza, one scrawny pie at a time.

Back in our booth, we dined. Spongey crust, bland cheese and ketchupy sauce, but all in all, it was OK. The pizza was OK. 

Then, a pajama-clad lady in a reclining wheelchair was rolled into the restaurant by her carer. I had watched shows about obesity on TLC, but she was the largest person I'd seen in real life. She instructed her chauffeur to wheel her to the buffet, where she picked up an entire pizza and ate it on the spot. It was incredibly sad. 

It was also disgusting. 

But I knew that, if I let myself love pizza the way I knew I could, that would be me some day. We're all just a few bad months away from eating ourselves into an enormous pizza-shaped grave. 

Yelp tells me that Eatza Pizza is now closed. That's probably for the best. But I will be forever grateful for what that place taught me about the highs and lows of pizza eating, and the value of moderation.

A sign and an empty lot — all that remains of Eatza Pizza on Google Street View.

So, there you have it. Pizza, like all controversial subjects, is much more complex than the mainstream media makes it out to be. That's why you have Madgespace—voted top alternative news source by people who read—to turn to for the real truth.

Love ya,
Margaret "Pizza" Kay

P.S. Pizza

P.P.S. Just one more thing

My year-28 challenge

Sticking with things is hard. And usually I'm against it. If you don't like doing something you should just stop doing it. Diets, jobs, marathon training, lenten vows (I'm sooooo "over" Lent, don't even get me started)—I'm always in favour of quitting halfway through those things. In fact, I actively encourage it.

HOWEVER, on this 28th anniversary of my birth, I'm setting myself a challenge: blog every day for a year. 

Google knew it was my birthday. That should scare me, but instead, I'm flattered. 

Why? A few reasons:

1. It will get me into the habit of writing quickly and squeezing in the time to write whenever I can. This is good if I ever want to write a book some day (more on that in future posts).

2. I want attention.

3. I just want to see if I can do it! Call it a quarter life crisis (I plan to live until I'm 112), but I'm in the mood to shake things up a bit. For me, committing to something is shaking things up. Both my rent and phone are on rolling monthly contracts and I can fit everything I own into a duffle bag. This blog challenge is the only thing keeping me from retreating to an underground bunker with a lifetime's supply of original goldfish crackers and the world's best head scratcher.

Wow, enough of this feelings talk. Let's move on to something a bit more mainstream: Facebook is a parasite. It's sucking the life out of me. I know it's old news, and we've all grown to hate it by now, but it bears repeating: Facebook is a parasite.

That damn newsfeed. The people I don't really even know, but despise nonetheless. The ads for articles about celeb photoshop fails (but then when you click on them, they aren't even that good). The political debates that end with polite agreements to disagree. The videos that play automatically and in a loop with no perceivable beginning or end. I HATE IT.

I hear ya, Nigel. I hear ya.

But, if I delete my Facebook, how would I share these delightful blog posts? And how would I scan through hundreds of photos of myself at 2:15am on a Tuesday? How would I manage to avoid doing meaningful, rewarding things like writing my Grandma a letter or working on stuff I get paid for? And don't forget birthdays! On today of all days, I should be grateful for all that Facebook gives me.

Alas, my Facebook page shall live to die another day.

That's all for now. Good luck me. See you back here tomorrow.

Love,
Margaret

P.S. Remember, my goal is not to blog well every day for a year. It's just to blog. There are bound to be some real short, real boring posts thrown up at the last minute so I can get to back to watching the news. OK, I mean Real Housewives. Fine, I mean former New York housewife Alex McCord's recap videos about the Real Housewives.

Take those expectations and lower them to about grocery list level. "Bread, milk, cereal, toilet paper..." That's as much excitement and depth as many of the posts will contain. Still, if I know my audience, then I know that's better than nothing.

P.P.S. Remember my golden birthday? Where did that amazing turban go?! Darn, should have kept better track of that.

Vintage Margaret & Andy's Glasgow Birthday Surprise

Lately I've had the craving to write something meaningful. Unfortunately, I am struggling for topics. What's become of my former self? Where did that passionate, spirited gal who could fiercely defend the merits of celery or argue that presents are the best part of Christmas go?

It's a bit of a shame how we tend to be more reasonable and less reactive when we get older. When I was 11, I locked four of my friends in my bedroom and argued with them about the evils of abortion for hours. I distinctly remember not letting the conversation drop until they had all agreed that, yes, I was right and admitted that 'pro-life' was the correct thing to be. HA! HAAAAAA!

While I've since drastically shifted my stance on that hot-button issue, I do admire the tenacity I displayed back then. Would I have the audacity to harangue my friends on such a 'sensitive' subject today? Probably not. And actually, that's a good thing. People who spout political, religious or moral beliefs over dinner/drinks with friends are horrendous. Post-graduate life is filled with people like that. It's dreadful.

So, I suppose my goal should be to channel the chutzpa of 11-year-old Mog, but hold close the wisdom I've gained in the 16 years since. I should stick to what I do best - analyzing the Real Housewives and podcasting about Amanda Bynes. But the moment something of significance pops into my brain, I shall take to my Macbook and blog, blog, BLOGGGG! I'm just waiting for that meaningful topic to arrive.

In the meantime, here's a tale I'll call 'Andy's Birthday':

We went to Glasgow! It was a surprise! I told him we were just going to breakfast! Then we got on a train! I told him we were only going for the day! But we stayed the night! The hotel, CitizenM, was cool!

Our room at CitizenM Glasgow. Great view!

Andy + Beer + Surfing 'the net' + Glasgow = Happy Birthday

Very hard to do a double-selfie with a digital SLR. First world problems, HAHAHAHHAHAHA. sigh.

We visited the Kelvingrove Museum and the Hunterian Museum in Glasgow University. The University building is very Hogwarts-esque. It's surrounded by leafy trees and made me feel very happy. Unfortunately for y'all, we left the camera at the hotel and were forced to just enjoy the moment rather than document our visit photographically.

On the off chance that I don't write another post before the 31st - Happy Halloween everyone! I don't know what I am going to be yet. Any suggestions?

Love,
Margaret