I realize I have been slacking when it comes to updating this blog. Part of me was being lazy and the other was a little embarrassed due to the Lifetime movie my life can be sometimes. But I’m over that now and am ready to get back to making fun of my life and the people in it.
And I think it is fitting to have my husband be my first victim.
Laker Fan
The other night we were watching the L.A. Laker game. We hate the Lakers (as most people do and should), so we like to watch and root against them. Since they were playing in L.A., the camera panned through the crowd showing some of the famous people in the stands (with captions, in case you didn‘t know who they were). We saw Adam Sandler, Jack Nickelson, and my personal favorite Leonardo DiCaprio. The last fan the cameraman showed was California’s First Lady, Maria Shriver.
“Maria Shriver, what was she in?” Scott asked.
“What?”
“What was Maria Shriver in? Was she in something I would have seen?” He asked with rising annoyance.
“Um, nothing. She is a reporter and a Kennedy and is married to Arnold Schwarzenegger, our governor,” I replied, giggling and shaking my head.
“Well excuse me for not keeping up with the Kennedys!”
“Dude, you just made the blog,” I smirked.
“No! Not the blog!”
Sorry honey.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Monday, October 12, 2009
Damn Funny
So my mother and I just spent 5 days together in Reno. She had a conference for work so I tagged along for some mother-daughter time. One afternoon we were in the hotel room watching TV and a commercial for the new movie “Couples Retreat” (which is damn funny by the way) came on. It was a scene in which all the couples are supposed to strip down to their underwear but one of the characters admits to not wearing any underwear.
“Is that what you call Guantanamo?” Mom asked once the commercial was over.
“What?”
“When you don’t where underwear, what is that called?” She asked.
“Um, you mean commando?” I asked, starting to laugh.
I still haven’t stopped laughing.
“Is that what you call Guantanamo?” Mom asked once the commercial was over.
“What?”
“When you don’t where underwear, what is that called?” She asked.
“Um, you mean commando?” I asked, starting to laugh.
I still haven’t stopped laughing.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
CPR Class
I have to maintain a CPR certification from the American Red Cross to be a certified personal trainer. So once a year I spend 4+ hours in a classroom rolling around on the floor with my classmates and Annie the dummy. And every year I am “pleasantly” surprised by what I see and hear in class.
This year’s observations/thoughts:
- I’m not sure how comfortable I would be to receiving CPR from a woman with a lip ring
- I’m not sure how comfortable I would be receiving CPR from anyone who has trouble passing the open book test required for certification
- Females over the age of eight should not have hair down to their ass (except for Chrystal Gail)
- I don’t think a 4 hour class really prepares me to save a life
Friday, September 25, 2009
Must Wear Socks
This morning I had to be up early to meet a client for a workout. I knew I was going to be up before my husband so I had laid out my clothes and bag the night before. I try not to be too “cutesy” when it comes to my training clothes but I was feeling frisky (as my husband would say). So I picked out black capris, a hot pink top, and matching black/hot pink tennis shoes that I had snagged on clearance at Payless. Since the shoes are primarily black I think they look better without socks, so opted to go foot commando for the morning.
As I walked to the car I was surprised at how chilly it was (thankfully I had grabbed a hoodie), but figured I would be in and out of the car pretty quick, so I would survive. It’s amazing how wrong I can be sometimes.
I was about a mile or two away from the apartment when I first noticed the signs of trouble. The “TRAC OFF” warning light quietly came on which got me thinking that a trip to the auto shop was going to be in order that day. It wasn’t until the car completely stopped working that I realized I was totally screwed.
My car came to a rest on the shoulder of the road, which wasn’t easy considering I had lost power steering along the way. After the initial shock wore off, I dug out my phone to call for help. A wife’s first call is usually to her husband, but my hubby was in bed and without a car so I knew he would be as helpful as my mother who lives 3000 miles away (and who is always my first call when I am in trouble). So I pulled out my insurance card, verified that I had roadside assistance, made a call, and began the 45 minute wait for a tow truck. Yes, that was a 45 freaking minute wait. So there I sat alone in a car with no heat…in the northwest…in October…before sunrise…with no socks. Needless to say, I was unhappy on so many levels.
An hour later when the tow truck rolled up, hypothermia had set in and taken three toes on each foot. The pain I felt was equaled only to the boredom on the tow truck drivers face once he climbed down from the truck’s cab and began hooking my car up to the tow. His enthusiasm for his career became even more evident when it came time for me to ride with him to the repair shop. Upon arrival in the cab I was greeted by two things: heat (thankfully) and ACDC. Both were on full blast.
The truck ride was a short one and before long I had dropped off the car and was walking the remaining blocks home. Once again I was reminded of my poor clothing choices and why I never go commando…even in my shoes.
As I walked to the car I was surprised at how chilly it was (thankfully I had grabbed a hoodie), but figured I would be in and out of the car pretty quick, so I would survive. It’s amazing how wrong I can be sometimes.
I was about a mile or two away from the apartment when I first noticed the signs of trouble. The “TRAC OFF” warning light quietly came on which got me thinking that a trip to the auto shop was going to be in order that day. It wasn’t until the car completely stopped working that I realized I was totally screwed.
My car came to a rest on the shoulder of the road, which wasn’t easy considering I had lost power steering along the way. After the initial shock wore off, I dug out my phone to call for help. A wife’s first call is usually to her husband, but my hubby was in bed and without a car so I knew he would be as helpful as my mother who lives 3000 miles away (and who is always my first call when I am in trouble). So I pulled out my insurance card, verified that I had roadside assistance, made a call, and began the 45 minute wait for a tow truck. Yes, that was a 45 freaking minute wait. So there I sat alone in a car with no heat…in the northwest…in October…before sunrise…with no socks. Needless to say, I was unhappy on so many levels.
An hour later when the tow truck rolled up, hypothermia had set in and taken three toes on each foot. The pain I felt was equaled only to the boredom on the tow truck drivers face once he climbed down from the truck’s cab and began hooking my car up to the tow. His enthusiasm for his career became even more evident when it came time for me to ride with him to the repair shop. Upon arrival in the cab I was greeted by two things: heat (thankfully) and ACDC. Both were on full blast.
The truck ride was a short one and before long I had dropped off the car and was walking the remaining blocks home. Once again I was reminded of my poor clothing choices and why I never go commando…even in my shoes.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Fairs & Festivals
Last weekend we went to the largest fair in the state of Washington, The Puyallup Fair (a.k.a. The Big Fantastic). I wasn’t sure what to expect from this two-week long affair that is held south of Seattle each year, but my husband was excited for the “fair food”. So I guess that is where I will begin.
The Food:
I have been to many fairs in my life, including church, city, county, and even a state. So I consider myself schooled in the culinary offerings that are available at these social gatherings. But then again, I have only gone to fairs in the Midwest…could the Northwest really be any different??
Well, yes, it can. The Puyallup was actually my second fair/festival that I attended this month. My first was Bremerton’s Annual Blackberry Festival which was pretty much what I expected…lots of food, music and booths, all coated in blackberries. So with two fairs under my belt I feel like I can honestly comment on the odd shit, I mean differences that I have encountered.
Elephant Ear—This is a giant piece of fried bread (resembling an ear?) covered in cinnamon and sugar
Teriyaki chicken and noodles—Who the hell eats Asian food at a fair? Slimy, slippery noodles do not seem like a great pick for fair food.
Cow chip—This may sound gross, but really this is just a giant chocolate chip cookie
Scones—I hate to repeat myself, but fair food? Really? A fucking scone? Maybe if we were in England and drinking tea.
Fried alligator on a stick—I assume this is self explanatory and my husband says it tastes like fishy chicken
Funnel cake toppings—I will admit that this is just a personal issue. I love funnel cakes. In my opinion they are a perfect food that does not need to be improved upon or added to. But these Northwesterners feel the need to slop on a bunch of crap (fruit), whipped cream, and flavored syrup. I guess I am just a purist at heart.
The People:
For the most part, I saw the same types of people at NW fairs as I have seen at Midwest fairs. For example, I spotted the “chippys” dressed in mini skirts and strappy sandals, love birds walking with thumbs in their honey’s back pockets, cowboys in boots and ten gallon hats, families with exhausted parents and sugar-fueled children, and teenagers…lots and lots of teenagers. I enjoyed the people watching, I must say.
The Rides
Okay, I got to be honest, I don’t trust fair rides. There is just something disarming about the fact that the ride that flips you upside-down was unloaded off a truck and constructed earlier that morning. But against my better judgment I was “encouraged” to ride these traveling death traps and lived to see another day. I really didn’t encounter any new or bizarre rides, but I will mention that if you have a bad neck, roller coasters and bumper cars are NOT suggested. Ouch.
The Food:
I have been to many fairs in my life, including church, city, county, and even a state. So I consider myself schooled in the culinary offerings that are available at these social gatherings. But then again, I have only gone to fairs in the Midwest…could the Northwest really be any different??
Well, yes, it can. The Puyallup was actually my second fair/festival that I attended this month. My first was Bremerton’s Annual Blackberry Festival which was pretty much what I expected…lots of food, music and booths, all coated in blackberries. So with two fairs under my belt I feel like I can honestly comment on the odd shit, I mean differences that I have encountered.
Elephant Ear—This is a giant piece of fried bread (resembling an ear?) covered in cinnamon and sugar
Teriyaki chicken and noodles—Who the hell eats Asian food at a fair? Slimy, slippery noodles do not seem like a great pick for fair food.
Cow chip—This may sound gross, but really this is just a giant chocolate chip cookie
Scones—I hate to repeat myself, but fair food? Really? A fucking scone? Maybe if we were in England and drinking tea.
Fried alligator on a stick—I assume this is self explanatory and my husband says it tastes like fishy chicken
Funnel cake toppings—I will admit that this is just a personal issue. I love funnel cakes. In my opinion they are a perfect food that does not need to be improved upon or added to. But these Northwesterners feel the need to slop on a bunch of crap (fruit), whipped cream, and flavored syrup. I guess I am just a purist at heart.
The People:
For the most part, I saw the same types of people at NW fairs as I have seen at Midwest fairs. For example, I spotted the “chippys” dressed in mini skirts and strappy sandals, love birds walking with thumbs in their honey’s back pockets, cowboys in boots and ten gallon hats, families with exhausted parents and sugar-fueled children, and teenagers…lots and lots of teenagers. I enjoyed the people watching, I must say.
The Rides
Okay, I got to be honest, I don’t trust fair rides. There is just something disarming about the fact that the ride that flips you upside-down was unloaded off a truck and constructed earlier that morning. But against my better judgment I was “encouraged” to ride these traveling death traps and lived to see another day. I really didn’t encounter any new or bizarre rides, but I will mention that if you have a bad neck, roller coasters and bumper cars are NOT suggested. Ouch.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Scaling back?
I weigh myself everyday.
Yes, even after losing the weight and keeping it off for almost six years, I cannot stop myself from stepping on the scale each morning before breakfast. And I would love to say that the number that appears doesn’t affect my day, but sadly it does. The lower the number, that happier I am.
Self-proclaimed experts seem to disagree when it comes to the scale subject. Some say weighing oneself everyday helps keep the weight at bay; others believe that facing the scale daily can do psychological harm. So what is a girl to do?
I have been wondering if I could go a week without weighing myself and if it would help me or hinder? I have gone a week before without stepping on a scale, but that is when I was on a seven-day cruise where watching my weight wasn’t a priority, or even feasible. And I won’t even tell you how much I gained during that stint.
I want to take my focus off of food. I want to go a day and not calculate the calories in my head or on paper. I’m not sure if stepping OFF the scale can help me do that, but it is worth a try. So I will weigh myself one last time this Monday morning and then I will see how long I can last.
Yes, even after losing the weight and keeping it off for almost six years, I cannot stop myself from stepping on the scale each morning before breakfast. And I would love to say that the number that appears doesn’t affect my day, but sadly it does. The lower the number, that happier I am.
Self-proclaimed experts seem to disagree when it comes to the scale subject. Some say weighing oneself everyday helps keep the weight at bay; others believe that facing the scale daily can do psychological harm. So what is a girl to do?
I have been wondering if I could go a week without weighing myself and if it would help me or hinder? I have gone a week before without stepping on a scale, but that is when I was on a seven-day cruise where watching my weight wasn’t a priority, or even feasible. And I won’t even tell you how much I gained during that stint.
I want to take my focus off of food. I want to go a day and not calculate the calories in my head or on paper. I’m not sure if stepping OFF the scale can help me do that, but it is worth a try. So I will weigh myself one last time this Monday morning and then I will see how long I can last.
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