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It seems like everybody in blogland is talking about the 30 Day Shred, so last night I went ahead and checked it out (it was onDemand, what what).

HOLY COW.

First of all, I love Jillian Michaels. She’s terrifying. To quote my friend S, she survives on pure protein powder and the souls of fat people. She’s totally buff in a “I’m not doing this to impress dudes, but I could beat the crap out of you” kind of way. She wears TWO sports bras. And there are few greater pleasures in this world than sitting on the couch eating chocolate bread pudding and listening to her yell, “WHY ARE YOU FAT?” at the top of her lungs on The Biggest Loser.

So anyway, like I said, I tried the Shred. And you guys. I loved it. I mean, I hated it, I was jumping around like an idiot lifting family-sized jars of Ragu Tomato and Basil because I’m too cheap to buy hand weights, and Tom made the mistake of coming into the room to get some water and I screamed “GET OUT OR I WILL SHRED YOUR FACE!”

But.

The whole thing is only like twenty minutes long, and you only do each excercise for like a minute at a time, and you get to pantomime jumping rope, and instead of being like, “You can do this, ladies,” Jillian is all, “I know you want to die, and I do not care.”

Frankly, I did want to die a little, and I appreciated her honesty.

She’s real clear that you have to do it thirty days in a row to get it to work, and I can tell you right now that that’s not gonna happen, so I probably won’t start my summer off shredded. But I’m totally going to see what other stuff she’s got out there, on the off chance she’s got one called “Jillian Michaels 30-Day Pie Eating Extravaganza.”

Go big or go home, right?

5,300 words written

Some amazing, amazing cards from uncooked and koco (HEY. If you have a birthday card coming from me in the next couple of months–and you know who you are–no peeking. They’re too good.)

$3 Bombay and tonics at a bar in Easthampton, Massachusetts

Renee’s amazing vegan chili (with cinnamon!), edamame salad, and Boston Creme (ish) cupcakes

Free St. Ives at CVS, thanks to some crumpled coupons and extrabucks I’ve been carrying around in my purse for a week

Teriyaki-raisin chicken salad on whole-wheat toast

New Dave Matthews on the radio (although I suppose I might have hallucinated that, as it almost sounds too good to be true)

My oregano is coming up! Still no word from the basil.

A really wonderful mix cd from SS

Fitting into jeans a size smaller than the jeans I thought I was going to fit into

OH HI President Obama, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it today, but you are articulate. 

On Monday’s Agenda: baked ziti from the freezer, Netflix with Tom, produce to shop for, calls to return. But first: more coffee. Like a lot of it. Like a gallon.

I always like it when Frankie comes over.

Dumb dog.

I wanted Martha’s Strawberry Shortcake Cookies to be amazing. I wanted them to be gorgeous and crumbly and sweet. 

Instead, they were…not good. 

I don’t know what happened! I followed the recipe exactly, and maybe it’s just a bad recipe, but they were too soft and smushy and spongy, more like a muffin than a cookie. And there’s something vaguely bitter about the taste of cooked strawberry that I don’t like. I fed them to a bunch of different people, some of whom were more enthusiastic than others, but the bottom line is these are NOT a make-again. 

The recipe doesn’t show up on Martha’s website–it’s in the June issue, so maybe it’s too new–but it’s not worth retyping, either. I just wanted to share the fail. 

They are pretty, though. 

Tell me what you’ve made and hated.

1. E. Hutch’s rendition of My Girl, which featured two wonderful minutes of R. Kelly’s Ignition Remix. Bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce, indeed. 

2. Post-concert cheese fries shared with girls who know my heart

3. It being warm enough to go without a jacket, even at night, like summer

4. I think Tom is going to fold like a house of cards and come to New York after all

5. The Gaslight brunch in my immediate future

Gone til Monday. Happy weekend!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IWQt0sP8dY]

My gorgeous sister J is coming up from New York this afternoon with her equally gorgeous roommate for a night on the town and a concert by sweet Eric Hutchinson. Seriously, how much do you all love this song? Sunny, spring-y music at its finest.

Tomorrow the three of us are headed back home to spend some quality time with the parental units (y beber muchas margaritas a Rosa Mexicano), and on Sunday I’m going to see if I can’t use my feminine wiles to peer-pressure Tom into coming down for a night. It’s a sunglasses-mix cd-flipflops-Corona with lime-quick change your clothes in the bathroom at work  kind of weekend. Here we go!

Sometimes it’s nice to dress up a sixty-six cent box of Jell-O with some blackberries and serve the whole thing in a teacup.

As opposed to, you know, eating it out of a Tupperware with a giant red spatch.

I try not to think of these as days off, really. More of days for Getting Things Done. 

I set the alarm.

I put real clothes one. 

I eat a fibrous breakfast.

And all that.

Today Brought:

Coffee and agent-scouting with Tom at Borders

Some digital camera research (I’m going to pull the trigger this week, honest. I’m stalling)

A nineteen dollar savings at Stop and Shop (I love double coupons)

Turkey sandwiches and potato salad for lunch

Five query letters, done

A guilty, giddy obsession with this song

Some correspondence to catch up on (Do you have cousins? If you do, you should write to them. Preferably in purple pen.)

The cable bill (and my Visa, which was mercifully low this month) paid

And a laid-back dinner with Tom. 

Tonight: 

Two of America’s very favorite pastimes (Yankees/Red Sox and Idol’s Final Four)

and some beers with two of my very favorite boys.