Where the hell have I been!

Oh, nowhere.

Just at school.

GETTING AN "A"!

Yes, it's an "A-" but it's still in the "A" family, so suck it, haters.

And suck it, high school guidance counselor who said I shouldn't even bother with college. (Maybe because I had a crappy academic record there too, and maybe because I was pregnant, and maybe because you caught me skinny dipping after hours at Hillcrest Country Club. But, hey, you were moonlighting as a security guard there, so now who should be ashamed? Yeah, still me.)

Anyway.

Suck it, voice-in-my-head that said I wasn't bright enough to do well in school at 18 or 45. Clearly you were wrong. I give you an "F" for FAILING to see my potential. How do YOU like it voice-in-my-head?

And finally, suck it most of all to my GPA that is still a scathingly low 1.8 something even though I just got an "A". ("A-"). Shut up, voice-in-my-head!

I'm gonna keep going to college to get more knowledge while the rest of you go to Jupiter to get more stupider.

Sorry, that wasn't very nice. The "A" has changed me. My academic elitism shan't last long. (I say "shan't" now because I'm very intelligent.)

Alright, I'm going back into my school cave for Astronomy next so I bid you 'good morrow' (that's Shakespeare). He was a writer. From the 1500's. Romeo and Juliet? Oh, never mind. It's really difficult to have conversations outside the quad now.

LATE! (That's how college kids say goodbye.)

It's exhausting having to explain everything. 

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Back To School!

Watch out U of M. She's baaaaaack.

That's right. This fall I will be joining the other "returning students" (a.k.a.  kids who totally blew it back in the day and are now trying to claw their way back to finish their degree.) at my alma mater, The University Of Minnesota.

"But, Lynda. I can't believe you don't have your Bachelors degree. You have a flourishing career in advertising."

Yeah, that has nothing to do with being bright.

All you have to do to be a copywriter is watch a crapload of TV as a kid, be super insecure - making you very competitive, grow up in a "unique" family that inspires you to use humor as a coping skill, then have a baby at 18, which propels you into adulthood prematurely but eqips you with an indefatigable drive to provide. Easy peasy.

So why finish? And why now?

It's always nagged at me that I didn't finish. (Remember the insecurity piece?) Plus, I'm a senior (college, not citizen) for Christ's sake and every time I fill out some credit card form or loan application or something at the DMV and it asks about "degrees earned" giving you the choice of either "high school diploma" or "bachelors degree" and nothing in between, instead of drawing the middle finger over that section like I usually do, I can circle "bachelors degree". (No, I can't just circle it. I didn't actually earn it yet and I'm not going to lie. I may manipulate people into buying stuff they don't need for a living but I'm not a liar. Jeez.)

Okay, so there's a bigger reason I want to go back to school. I not only want to finish my degree but I want to earn a Masters. 

What? 

I KNOW! I'll be 60 by the time I finish. But I don't care.

Ultimately, I want to write books about nutrition. (In case you haven't noticed, I kind of geek out on that stuff. ) But unlike advertising, some careers require accreditation.

So one day, instead of shaming people into eating better as a layperson, I'll be shaming them as a Functional Diagnostic Nutritionist. Booya!

And since I'm so friggin' healthy, I'm gonna live to be 117, so I'd better damn well have something to do with my life...in addition to advertising, because I will always love advertising and do it forever.(That last part was for my clients.)

Anyway, my actual point in blogging about this is to tell you how hilarious it has been to get back into the mix, because colleges are designed for late teens and early twenty-somethings, not well-worn adult types.

When I was registering for an e-mail account at the U, the password secret-question-suggestions were as follows:

First car

Best friend

High school mascot

Sure, I can remember all these things, (my former drinking habit only ruined my short-term memory), but they aren't exactly relevant to my current life.

I recommended to my adviser that the secret-question-suggestions for returning students be tailored more appropriately to their lives, like so:

First spouse

Best friend with breast cancer

High school reunion hookup

She reminded me I was on academic probation.

The next day I got a packet in the mail addressed to "The parents of Lynda Crotty" encouraging them to purchase season tickets for Gopher sports on my behalf because, according to the brochure, "students who support their team, take their degree more seriously."

So THAT was my problem the last time?

I thought it was because I had a toddler to feed and I couldn't keep up with school and five jobs as an aerobics instructor. (Yep. Aerobics. Shut up.)

So I called my damn parents and I said, "Listen, you buy me those tickets or the next time you get hip surgery, I will not be changing your wound dressing. You've been warned."

I haven't seen the tickets yet.

If I blow it this time, I'll just have one more reason to hate myself...and them.

But a little more self-loathing will only strengthen my career in advertising.

Go Gophers!

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Sucks to be him

I read this story about a month ago but I couldn't let it go un-blogged-about. 

So there's this bear in Tennessee, right? And a couple of months ago he was dumpster diving for food when he got his head stuck in a plastic jar. 

At first, I'm sure the bear was like "Doi. I just shoved my head inside a jar." Then he was probably all, "Holy crap, I can't get this thing off." Then he was likely thinking, "Rachel is gonna kill me!" (Rachel would be the bear in the photo waiting for her food that is NEVER coming.) Then he probably felt some fear, followed by panic, followed by despair, and ultimately, acceptance.

Because this poor bear went for THREE WEEKS with a stupid plastic jar on his head, in the sweltering heat, not eating but drinking by dipping the jar into water, filling it to the point of drowning, then consuming the water fast enough to breathe again. 

The poor dear self-water-boarded for almost a month just to survive! (Rachel must be one, sweet roll in the cave.)

So three weeks, a hundred and seventeen civilian sightings and seventy five pounds later, a wildlife officer spotted and darted him.

They pried the jar off, pumped him full of fluids, got him up on his feet and sent him back into the wild. (Hopefully with some photos to prove to Rachel that his unlikely story was indeed the truth.)

The End

(Not so fast)

Did you seriously think I was going to let you get away without a passionate monologue on the evils of processed food?

What does this have to do with processed food?

Simple.

The only "food" that comes in those ginormous plastic jars are Red Vines, Cheese Puffs or Giant Pickles (that, frankly, Rachel was probably using for anything but eating while her poor, jar-headed beau was out of town.) 

Because when it comes to junk food, even wild animals only eat it when they're desperate, but we humans go to the gas station and stock our cupboards with it.

Why??????

It has become our nature. We don't even think about it. And if someone points it out, we snarl. (Like you're doing right now.) It's okay. I get it. It's not easy to make the shift to real food, but it's possible and I hope you will consider it.

I also hope that until you do, if you should buy any products that come in a big plastic jar, bottle, bucket or are tethered together with those plastic rings, you will cut the plastic to bits before recycling it. That alone could have saved this poor bear from three weeks of torture. Just like eliminating processed foods from your diet can save you from a lifetime of health problems. 

Okay, fine. I'm done. 

But the next time you go camping, if a deer kicks the crap out of you because it has a Mountain Dew bottle stuck up it's butt, don't come crying to me.

That's my way of saying, "I care."

Here's the article on the bear:
http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2011/jul/21/tennessee-black-bear-saved-jar-stuck-its-head/

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Hey you, don't be snootie, stick a camera up your bootie!

No, no, no. That's not what I mean.

Let your doctor do it.

YOU should never stick anything up your butt. No matter how far you are from home, how drunk you are, or how cute he is.

Are we clear? Okay.

So I just read an article on CNN.com about how the incidence of Colon Cancer is on the decline BECAUSE Colonoscopies are on the rise.

Yay!

However, Colon Cancer is still the second most common cancer in both men and women in the U.S. and results in about 50,000 deaths per year.

Boo!

Why? Because not everyone at risk is getting tested. 

Why? Because, as you may or may not have heard, Colonoscopies are actual, literal pains in the ass.

Not only is the procedure uncomfortable but the prep is too. But, as a wise doctor quoted in the CNN article notes, "So is dying young from a preventable disease."

What is young? Oh, forties (if you have a family history) or fifties-and-up if you don't.

So, what can you do?

Get screened, dude!

It's not that bad. (I had it done in my twenties for IBS junk.) Yeah, it sucked, but it wasn't as painful as giving birth. And back in the day, I had hangovers that made me want to kill myself. This was nothing compared to those.

So, have I sold you?

Good.

Bootie bravery rules!

Here is the CNN.com article. (Please read then get-er-dun!)

http://thechart.blogs.cnn.com/2011/07/05/colon-cancer-screening-saves-lives-but-more-need-to-do-it/

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Is it football season yet?

Hello, gorgeous.

This is our new quarterback, Minnesota.

Hiiiiiiii...

Even the Vikings know that when you're going through a rough patch, it helps to go buy something pretty.

His name is Christian Ponder.

He's 23.

He's from Texas. Or maybe Arizona. Who cares.

When he was in Kindergarten, his teacher told his parents he was so shy that she was worried he would get beat up.

Awwww.

Can he get any cuter?

He just did!

Well, I don't know jack about the gridiron, but I will be buying my first set of season tickets and I will be front and center come September...or is it August...can't it be June?

Maybe I'll just go drive really close to Winter Park, and "get a flat tire"... "in daisy dukes and a bikini top".

Gross. I'm 44.

Fine.

I'm totally getting a poster...and I'm making out with it...and I don't care what you say Tom Brady poster. It's over.

Skoll Vikings...(Sung like Marilyn Monroe sang Happy Birthday to JFK).

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

I'm so glad the world didn't end.

Because next months is chock-full of awesomeness.

1.) Jury duty.

2.) Annual exam.

3.) My tabs expire on my car.

4.) My AFTRA and SAG dues need to be renewed.(And I haven't booked a SAG job in like 8 years.)

5.) Numbers 3 and 4 mean less Banana Republic shopping, AND it's two of my friends' birthdays, AND father's day AND daddy's birthday. (I don't care for some of the people on that list but I need to cough up anyway.)

6.) I still haven't found the perfect nude shoe for summer.

7.) I hate summer.

8.) Hockey season is only 133 days away.

9.) I'm short. (I'm always irked about that, but the above list just adds to the pain.)

10.) Every garden center is out of basil.

11.) No, purple basil isn't the same. 

12.) I'm not bikini-age-appropriate but thinner than ever. #@$!

13.) Annual exam. (Yes, I listed it twice. I have a HUGE crush on my OBGYN, making it extra awkward.) 

Of course, there are many things to be excited about, happy about, and grateful for...but they aren't funny.

Okay, June. Bring it. 

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

This makes me happy to be alive.

I heard about this book on MPR last night and had to check my settings to make sure I was actually listening to MPR.

Yep.

Because the on-air guy said there was a new bedtime book called Go the F**k to Sleep.

Awwww.

(Not for kids, of course.)

It BLEEPED him on the F**k part but I knew what he said because I've thought it a million times.

This author is a genius. (And I haven't even read the book.) But the idea alone kills me. And the guy on the air read a passage from the book that was even more explative-riddled than the title. All woven into very traditional, bedtimey prose. Brilliant.

And whether or not you want to admit it, you have thought this as you tuck your darlings in at night. The day is done. You're done. Your eyebrows need tweezing. Top Chef is on and it's time to chill for a full 30 minutes before you pass out from exhaustion.

This book tells you, you're not alone. Because no matter how much you love your kids, (And no one loves their kids more than I do. Do not. Do not.)  it's work to be a parent (A good one, anyway.) and "me time" is an essential component of good parenting.

So get the book, kiss your babies goodnight, and if they want another glass of water, well, sucks to be them.

Mommy out.

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc