Happy Hump Day

I can't think of a better way to spend a Hump Day afternoon than enjoying a glass of red wine and an hour with my favorite frenemy, Oprah. So at four o'clock yesterday I opened the screw cap (classy) on a new bottle of Malbec and filled up a white wine glass (trick: use a white wine glass to drink red because two glasses of white equals one glass of red) and I flipped on Channel 707 to watch Ophs. In order not to feel too guilty about enjoying the afternoon, I parked my laptop on my, well, lap and jotted down some thoughts about a few things that cross my mind but don't necessarily warrant their own posting.

Lounge Clothes

Ever since my college days "lounge clothes" have been a staple in my wardrobe. Long before Victoria's Secret and Old Navy had a "Loungewear" section on their websites, I would strap on my roller blades, grab my roomie and head of to KMart where we'd buy identical pairs of boyshorts with the matching tank. We'd then unabashedly wear our new lounge "outfits" (aka: undies) around the dorm for all to see thinking we were cute. The only problem was my roomie was 5 foot 2 and 95 pounds while I, on the other hand, was pushing a deuce at the time. Luckily since then, I've lost the weight and the habit of wearing glorified undies in public. My old roomate, on the other hand, still finds a way to call boyshorts and a see-through tank an outfit and wear it down to a hotel buffet breakfast (in Vegas of course).

But just because I no longer wear these "outfits" in public by no means is to say that my love for and obsession with lounge clothes has faded. In fact, over time, with less pounds and more money than my college freshman self, it's grown exponentially. Some may say it's a problem, but I just love me some loungewear. Just before sitting down to watch Oprah I showered, lotioned, brushed my hair and took a good fifteen minutes to pick out the perfect lounge outfit to sit on the couch sipping wine and typing. It's sort of an out-of-body experience how I picture myself and what I'll be doing then choose the appropriate lounge outfit for whatever relaxing activity I'm in for. Sure, I could've thrown on mismatched sweats and a big T shirt and since I was by myself, literally no one would've noticed, but to me, lounging is an art. And so I chose a black one piece shorts romper to wear with a lightweight cotton cardigan (also black but white would've been cute too) and new leather flip flops that I purchased in Argentina. Hey, if Oprah had Skyped me into the show, I would've been ready!

The Wine Diet

I'm always reading some women's magazine article that consists of an editor's repackaging the same old "healthy living" tips (we don't dare say diet anymore) from "Expert Trainers!" or "Fifty Doctors" that "Weighed In." It never fails that over and over again we are spoon fed the same common-sense health tips in a way that tries to convince us that they've stumbled upon some earth-shattering fitness secret like, "Get at least a half hour of excercise in five times a week." Thanks Doc. And so recently I've decided to pick two of my favorites and put them into serious practice with my own spin on them.

Tip 1: Drink more fluids.
Tip 2: Have a conversation during your meal. You'll eat slower and get full faster.

In deciding to implement these two "health quickies" I figured the best way to do so was to
a) institute Happy Hour and
b) start eating meals at the kitchen table rather than in front of the TV as we normally do.

Instituting Happy Hour was easy thanks to the bargain bin at our favorite wine store and before I knew it, I was drinking more fluids. Check!

Eating meals at the kitchen table proved a little more difficult being that in order to eat the meals at the table, I have to cook the meals in the kitchen. Luckily my status as one of the millions of unemployed Americans has alloted me the free time to learn to stand the heat and keep my ass in the kitchen. Now almost every night as I ingest my doctor-recommended fluids I set the table, cook up something delicious and have a nice piping hot meal ready for when my husband, T, get's home.

The whole point of eating at the kitchen table is to have a conversation and thus eat more slowly. I thought this was going to prove extremely difficult for me since my usual M.O. whenever a plate of food is in front of me is to put my head down and go at it hoover-style grunting at anyone who speaks to me letting them no that there's no time for talking and then when I've licked my plate clean, I move on to my husband's.

However, thanks to all the extra fluids I've been drinking, I can't shut up! Just the other night, for the very first time in the five years that we've been together, when I finally stopped rambling on about whatever really interesting thing I'd been thinking about while cooking dinner and drinking "fluids", I looked down at my plate and saw it was still half full while, amazingly, my husband had finished his. The diet only backfired a little bit at that point when I had no choice to shut up and inhale the rest of my food before he had a chance to get at it. I guess my survival instinct kicked in.

But needless to say, I think I've stumbled upon something genious here.

Drink a lot of wine while you cook dinner so you won't be able to shut up when you sit down to eat it and low and behold, the pounds will melt off. Oh, and I highly recommend wearing some cute loungewear while you do it.

Let's Talk About Sex Baby

While I normally like to entertain you with recounting the inevitable mishaps that occur as I try to go about leading my normal life, I was inspired yesterday to write a little commentary based on the topic of one of my favorite daytime activities.

When four o'clock rolled around, after running across the street for a fresh bottle of Malbec, I turned on Oprah and was greeted by an overly expressive, batshit-behind-the-eyes, loud-talker in a wig. No, I'm not talking about Oprah herself, but rather her guest of the day, former Evangelical Church Leader, Ted Haggard. In case you're not familiar with Ted Haggard he's the mega-church, right-wing, anti-abortion, gays-will-burn-in-hell preaching pastor who "fell from grace" in 2006 when it came out that he was buying both sex and drugs from another man.

As I watched Oprah trying desperately yet failing to be hard-hitting and non-judgemental, while of course learning something from the Pastor and his wife between lengthy commercial breaks, I started thinking about sex, sexuality and what's normal. His apologies, revelations, self-evolution and Invislign braces just confused me as he preached, and this is not a direct quote, "Deep down inside I DO want to bang dudes, but through therapy and my wife refusing to divorce me, I've made the choice not to." WTF?

Now according to Haggard, his homo-sexual acts were the product of mental illness requiring the help of a therapist. With that, I started to wonder if every barely legal skank posting photos of herself making out with her best friend on MySpace is mentally ill or as Haggard referred to himself, 'a heterosexual with issues.'

It wasn't until Oprah methodically brought the conversation back around to focus on herself that I became completely confused. As Haggard openly admitted to having 'homosexual inclinations' inside of him, Oprah responded by announcing she wonders what that must be like for him because, "as a heterosexual woman," she "does not know what it's like to have homosexual thoughts." Now, I know the majority of my straight male readers out there are not going to openly admit to even ever having the slightest curiousity about being intimate with another guy, so I'm not going to push that issue, but come on Ophs!! You're going to tell me you've never been curious to see what it might be like to play Tune in Tokyo with Gayle? I have to disagree.

I don't know a girl who hasn't made out with her best friend in the second grade, picked lesbian porn over the regular kind or enjoyed a trip to the strip club? Now, either it's just me and all the girls I hang out with are a bunch of Big-Ass-Lesbos or, contrary to Oprah's personal experience. getting the tinglies from a same-sex thought is pretty normal. Whether we chose to admit it or not we are all curious creatures especially when it comes to doing the nasty. There's a good reason it is the one topic we loath discussing openly with our parents no matter how old we get.

The only thing that irks me more than intolerance is ignorance. I'm equally annoyed by people who preach tolerance while they make certain to announce that they could never be affiliated with whatever taboo they are begging you to accept. So after one hour of watching Oprah (which consisted of maybe 20 minutes of actual show and 40 minutes of commercials) I'm left left being told that because my girlfriend "N" and I dry humped (before I even knew what dry humping was) and played kissy-face in the fourth grade I'm going to either a) burn in hell or b) I'll never be as good as Oprah, but luckily she sympathizes.

Discuss.

UnPlain Jane will return with frivolous tales of life as an Unemployed Apartment Wife shortly.