Creating a blog takes all the fun out of creating a blog.

So, this is happening. I made a blog. I'll admit there is a fairly specific reason why I chose this point in time to start blogging, but we'll get to that later. Aside from the looming mystery reason, I mostly realized that I've got a bum hippocampus and I'd like to actually remember the better portion of my life. Thus, a blog was born.

This is young [loosely parented?] Allie
not making good life choices.
HANG UP AND DRIVE, YOU LUNATIC.

Plus, now that I've been a gainfully employed, functioning member of society for three years, I should probably start doing things like "making better decisions," and "planning for the future," and "stop drinking Monster." I figure, what better way to hold myself accountable than posting my potential-successes/imminent-failures for the whole world (or 3 to 5 of my Twitter friends) to see? It's not a niche blog ("Left-handed Texan Juggalos!") nor does it have a wildly popular theme ("Rustic Budget Weddings!"), but it's my little place to ramble and - like all my favorite hobbies - I can do it from my couch.

You know what they don't tell you about creating a blog? That you will spend countless hours desperately trying to come up with the most clever, intelligent, mind-blowing blog name the world has ever heard. The best part is: even if you do come up with something great, it's all but guaranteed that the Blogger URL will already be gone. Bye bye, brilliance. Just for kicks, let's run through what my thought process was like:

• How about something Wisconsin-related? The Mitten? This will only make sense in WI (and that dilapidated oven mitt to our east) and everyone else will think I have a knitting blog. 
• If you give a girl a blog - too children's booky.
• Does this blog make me look self-absorbed? - too many words.
• Don't judge me. - a serious contender and I'm not writing it off just yet.
• Two hoots & a holler - this was probably taken by an apple farmer with two pet owls.
• Kiln It! - too pottery-related. Oh, and I guess it's too similar to my brother's motorcycle club's blog, Killin-It. (I get royalties for the link or something, right, Danny?)
• And so it vegan - too... um... vegan. We'll address that later.
• What do other people name their blogs? After further research, I've found that most popular blogs sound like Andy Dwyer bands with a cutesy twist. Whimsy Kitten, Sweet Bean Treetop, or Glitter Box Duckling. Didn't bother checking their availability, because I'm sure those were all snatched up eons ago.

All I wanted was something that acknowledged my current big-girl motto (do things you think you can't do) and hinted at the fact that I'm not here to take myself seriously. Days later, in a fit of desperation, I ended up choosing the last thing I thought of. So a pig flies into a bar. Get it? The pig flies (inspiration to achieve the impossible!) into a bar (LOL, JOKES)... Yeah, well, settling for mediocrity seems like the better choice at 10pm on a Sunday night and "PLACEHOLDER TEXT" seemed obvious, so it stays for now. Don't get attached.


Also, I like thinking of a happy, flying, presumably adorable pigs, so I remember why I'm not eating them anymore. Oh. Yeah... I got so distracted with blog names that I almost forgot to make my big announcement:
When the sun rises on Monday, September 23, Scott and I will be starting a 30-day vegan challenge. 
Now, let's pause and let that sink in. Allie (whose food pyramid is just one big wheel of cheese) and Scott (who quite literally loves pizza more than some people love their own children) are going vegan. I'll be the first to admit that I have no idea what Day 31 will hold - maybe we'll feel so great that we won't revert... or maybe we'll celebrate over 60 pans of lasagna - but no matter what happens, I'll be happy if we've committed entirely for a whole month.

I've meal-planned for the week. I've ordered PeaPod (because I was too depressed after today's Packer game to go grocery shopping). I even threw out all the offending foods (tonight you feast, city raccoons). So now that our fridge solely contains ketchup, beer, and almost-expired tortilla shells, there's no turning back. Since this blog is a reflection of my life, the next 30 days will likely consist of recipes I've inevitably botched, honest portrayals of whatever results we do or don't see, and several long-distance love letters to dairy products.

Now, as the sun sets on our final day of gluttony, I'd like to dedicate this slow jam to my first true love: cheese. While our split is indeed unnatural (you belong to me, I belong to you), I fear we were blindly and knowingly engaging in a moribund relationship. Goodbye, delicious friend.