Pocketful o’ Meatballs

Obviously I was a fat kid. It’s my personal belief that all awesome people were, at some point, fat and yes, I just called myself awesome.

As a child, I did not like limits and, coincidently, my mother had a difficult time setting them. But, when I was approaching 4th grade and tipping the scale at 100 lbs, my mom had to get out of her comfort zone and tell me “no.” My mom’s first line of defense was setting a time for the kitchen to close. Every night after dinner, she would turn off the lights and declare, “kitchen closed.” Now, I am pretty resourceful so this posed no threat to me.

My mom is not the world’s best cook but she has one dish that is so radical that she makes up for it….Meatballs and Noodles.

Firstly, I must share this secret, the dish has beer in it. To kids, that was absolutely amazing. Whenever Eric and I would eat the dish, we would run around the house acting drunk and falling all over the place. We loved being drunk!

Secondly, for this meal, one serving was not enough. My mom may have “closed the kitchen” but as they say---where there is a will, there is a way------

Before the meatball meal extravaganza, I would prepare for my mission by placing plastic baggies into my pockets.

After savoring my one and only helping, I would surprise my mother and offer to clear the table. Now, clearing the table was never my favorite chore. I was always more of a setter but for this meal I would set and clear. As I was cleaning up, I would place meatballs into my pockets. With the baggies lining my pockets, I could comfortably fit 6 balls for later.

Is it weird I just told everyone about this dirty secret a year ago? My paid friend says no.

J dates of the Week

My relationship with J Date is similar to that of the men I "meet" on the site. Starts out exciting, often promising but ultimately ends being a disaster. I often "start" j-dating for a few weeks with intensity, saying "yes" to a bunch of dates. After a few weeks of dull dates I slow down. Eventually I will have an absolutely insane "experience" and Amie and my brother will persuade me to stop. Naturally, I become bored a few months later and begin the whole cycle again.

I could write an entire book on J Date. Seriously. I do want to note that I have heard a rumor that the dude who started J Date is married to a non-jewish asian woman (not that there is anything wrong with that).

Right now Jdate and I are in the 'honeymoon" phases. Two dates this week. Brief synopsis :

- Date 1: Meet outside a bar. He has a mustache. I know, you think that I cannot possibly beat mustache but I can. He blurts out, "Just started taking Lexapro and I cannot drink, want to sit on a bench in the park?" (note, its 9 pm and dark). Followed by, " I used to be anorexic". AWESOME

-Date 2: He studied bugs and was wearing a Hawaiian shirt

Taking a sleeping pill. Good night.

Nella (that's Allen backwards)

My life has been filled with bizarre, sometimes comical experiences, most of them thanks to my dad.

Growing up, my dad basically used me as a vehicle for "collecting" things that were not appropriate for a man of his age, or any age, to collect. Over the years, I have been the proud co-owner of the following, in no particular order: madame alexander dolls, pez, stamps, coins, disney snow globes and marc jacobs purses.

As a child, we would spend Saturday mornings together (a tradition that would last until college). Besides teaching me about music, my dad used this time to grow my (ok, his) collections. We would often go on long searches for the perfect madame alexander doll . Just in case your father did not do the same, think creepy porcelain people that watch you while you sleep.

In college, Amie (more about her later) and I went abroad to Barcelona. One day before we left, my dad woke us up at 10am to tell us we were going to Disneyland. Here he was, planning a day trip when his favorite activity is really watching the food network. As soon as we get there, he declares that we are now to be referred to as “Team Tigger.” My dad loves Tigger. No idea why. Anyway, throughout the day he winds in and out people, speeds up, ducks into bathrooms, hides in stores and other shenanigans. Now if this was anyone other than my dad, I would have questioned it but with him, nothing seems weird. After hours of rides and a quick trip to Knots Berry Farm (my dad said we need to experience a real scary ride), my dad reveals that this was a “mission” to discover if we were ready for Barcelona. My dad had taken us to Disneyland to “test” us, see how we handle crowds, and how we react in new territories.

Greek Yogurt

Throughout my life-long quest to have J.Lo’s body, I have tried quite a few diets including: Eating for your Blood Type, Weight Watchers, Nutrisystem, 5Squares, The Zone, not dieting (never try this one) and going to a super expensive nutritionist. This super expensive nutritionist was my favorite. Now, in order to fully convey the power of this experience I will not only let you in on our super exciting conversation, I will let you into my head.

Ilana* (Nutritionist): Hey girlie. So nice to see you.
My Head: Who says "girlie" other than 13 year-old suburban teenagers?
My Voice: Hey you
My Head: Ugh, did I really just utter the words "Hey You"?
Ilana: Love love love the bag!
My Head: Why do all JAPPY girls feel the need to constantly repeat verbs? Ugh, is she motioning over to the scale.
Ilana: Well, you lost 0.2 lbs. That’s the right direction but let’s really explore why this is going so slow.
My Voice: Ok. Let me get my food diary and we can go over everything I ate over the past week.
Ilana: Now when you write almond butter on english muffin are we talking about a smear, a tablespoon, a few tablespoons, the container?
My Head: Yes, I put the entire fucking jar of almond butter on my english muffin.
Ilana: And the yogurt. Are you sure you’re buying the fat free container of Fage yogurt? I mean are you absolutely positive you are not "accidentally" getting the regular Fage?
My head: Did she just say accuse me of picking up the wrong fucking greek yogurt? Yeah, if I was going to "cheat," it would definitely be choosing the full fat carb-strained, disgusting, sour yogurt and not grabbing a handful of peanut M&Ms.
Ilana: I mean choosing the wrong Fage could equate to consuming 170 calories more day, 850 more a week, 5100 more a month. That’s a huge difference. That can make it or break it.

We broke up later that week.

*yep, that is her actual name

The Story Behind the Anchor

If you are reading this and you do not already know, you may be wondering, “where did this lovely, witty and slightly mysterious title come from?” So, let me tell you…..

I may or may not have a friend who I pay to hang out with me and perhaps the best way to explain it all is through dialogue---

Paid Friend: …I just think that sometimes it’s really hard for you to be confident in your instincts. Although you are strong-willed, you seem to get stuck in the whole processing thing because you have no real anger. That anger can really help guide you. Of course you need to factor in a lot of other things—how you are going to feel later, all the data you have gathered, etc but without a real anger it’s so hard to be confident in the choices you have made.. It’s not a lost cause by any means; it’s just something we need to work on it. We are going to focus on strengthening your anger.

Me: Really? I mean I know that I can be unaware of my feelings at times but I feel like I have so much it practically oozes out of me. I mean, if I were being truly honest, I might even say I have too much. I was thinking I needed to get rid of it. I know all these Buddhist books are a bit…ummm….trendy and touchy feely, but I was thinking there was some validity in them. I think it may be good to be more zen-like and work on releasing some of that anger.”

Paid Friend: I said ANCHOR. You need to build an inner anchor. Not anger. A-N-C-H-O-R. And yes….you do have a lot of anger.

And so, I have been looking for my anchor ever since….