When your body lets you falsely believe you’re a rock star!

Many, many weeks ago I resigned myself to not attending a running event that I had been training for with Lady G.  I hurt my back part way into training in a way that I never had before (coincidently I hurt myself putting on a pair of shorts, which I keep telling people are evil and not flattering.  No one listens to me.  Especially in the heat of the summer!  Mind you the back went out AFTER running 16 kilometers so there’s that.)   After the back injury I resigned myself to attending the event just to cheer on my running partner and enjoy a cold beverage post race.  So with this decision made I, of course, stopping training.  Heck, my back was sore for weeks and there was no way I would be able to put in the miles needed to get it done in the time that was left.  Then a miracle of sorts happened.  I was sitting at work minding my own business when a person at the desk beside me started happily explaining her weekend half marathon experience and how awesome it was.  I looked over and thought “what?”  (use your imagination here please).  To which she finishes up the conversation by explaining that she “walked” the entire half marathon (what? Turned into a “Ohhh, I get it”.)  Well, if this wasn’t an eye opener for me.  I decided right then that I would walk that damn 21.5 kilometers if I had to.  Heck, I was going there anyway to cheer on The Gazelle.  So with this new found power I tell my running partner that she is going to have to wait many, many hours for me to finish and prepare myself for “The Great Walk”.  We arrive on race day with completely differing emotions.  One excited and a bit nervous, the other laid back and worried that we would be wandering the city looking for the parking garage where the car was (because neither of us could remember where we had parked).   Gazelle and I started and ran together for a couple of minutes then she was off to the races!  I ended up having the best run of my life!  I had no mental pressure on myself at all and managed to run, pain free, for almost the entire 21.5.  It was amazing………….  Until a couple hours after the finish.  My body took this opportunity, this one time only, to fake me out and not send me all the warning signs that come with running a stupid ass long distance without putting in the training.  As we got up to leave the after race/beer party, I found myself almost to the point of not being able to walk.  This pain and  the fact that the damn car was miles and miles away almost sent me to the brink of madness.  It was all I could do to keep walking.  (In hindsight I should have just finished the race and kept running right to the damn car!)  I am quite used to the odd ache or pain from running longer distances.  The pain usually sticks around for a day or two and is nothing that a couple of Advil or a good glass of whiskey won’t take care of.  Well…. this was different.  I got up the next morning to get ready for work and my feet were broken!  Well, they felt broken.  Seems I have bruised them so badly from the serious lack of training (and running with a layer of summer party bubble) that as I sit here five days later I wonder if they will ever feel normal again.   Despite the broken feet I am so happy to add this to the list of “crazy shit I have done” for many reasons.  It was awesome to be with Lady Gazelle for her first “official” half marathon and the race itself was so amazing.  The route, the view, the music along the way, my new found running super powers and the pride of not dying on the race course all add up to one hell of a day! 

Moving Box of Germs

The current life shattering problem right now is not the American election,  the current drug crisis or even climate change.  What the most relevant issue for all working women is how to find damn dress shoes that you can wear all day at work AND look good in!  It’s not rocket science people.  Develop a damn shoe that has the same comfort of flip flops but make our legs look fantastic!  Why is this so hard for the shoe maker people?  I could, again, be a gajillionaire if I could develop and market a memory foam pump.  Why do all the current  memory foam type of dress shoes look like they belong on a 72 year old?   I suppose you are now wondering how the shoe issue has absolutely anything to do with the title of this post.  Now that I work in a germ infested building of fun, I have to confess to yet another quirk that I have successfully been able to hide up until now.  I will not under any circumstances get into an elevator with people.  Mostly people with germs and since I cannot convince all people to perform proper hand hygiene or wear a damn mask before boarding, I will painfully take the stairs.  This avoidance of the Moving Box of Germs has made my life difficult in that the coffee shop that I must attend daily for sanity reasons is on the first floor.  I am on the third.  If there happens to be a meeting of sorts or other businessy type thing this usually takes place on the first floor where upon I need to then walk up and down the stairs, most times making multiple trips.  All this would be no bother at all if I could just find an extremely attractive pair of shoes that provide the comfort of a slipper.  I will be heading out this weekend to do some shoe comfort research because it will be a cold day in you know where before I put on a pair of Naturalizers!  (Or as my Mom mistakenly calls them:  Neutralizers.  What?)

Reader Update.....

Went to aforementioned mall.  It was nuts.  Managed to find a parking space quite easily upon arrival but the 1,700 people who came in after me could not.  You would think going to this mall was like a necessary trip to the emergency room the way people were acting in the parking lot!  There were fist fights and car bumping accidents all to get your car in a space to shop!  Yes, the police had to be called.  Many, many times.  The youngest money sucker and I made several trips back to the vehicle and had fun watching the people stalk us in their cars waiting for us to leave. (Who in their right mind would follow a little kid to a car thinking he was done shopping for the day is beyond me!  That is how desperate these people were!)    Keep in mind there are apparently 6,000 parking spots.  This, to me, is a staggering amount of parking spaces.  Let’s just assume each car has more than one person in it (because it is a serious drive away from any of the major towns/cities so one would assume the cars would be full of people wanting to hit the new, heavily advertised mall).  Do the math people!  That many parking stalls multiplied by the potential two or more persons per car.  Goodness that’s a lot of humans in one place trying to give away their money!

The mall itself?  Holy crap.  It was kinda cool and this coming from someone who no longer loves shopping.  There was a lot to look at (the mall AND the people watching) and some of the stores were not just retail stores, they were experiences).  There was a very serious lack of places to eat.  Only two restaurants managed to get their crap together for the opening weekend and be ready.  There was a food court of course but who wants to stand in line forever to get food just to realize you will never find an empty table with which to eat.  There was an amazing indoor skateboard park that was very impressive (especially since the Money Sucker spent almost the entire time skating and not bugging me to buy him stuff (I call that a win Mall People).

The mall did, however, get so busy that you could barely walk around without getting bumped by stupid people.  There should be strict rules about stopping dead and using your phone.  PULL OVER PEOPLE.  Don’t get me started on how stupid people are with standing in an open fricken doorway on their phones blocking the entrances!  They should make the mall a no phone zone dammit!  So many stupid people. 

I did think many, many times while wandering around that I sure could use a bloody drink and a quiet place to sit down.  Just in the opening weekend alone my martini bar would have made enough money to keep me living comfortably for quite some time!  That and a standing yearly reservation at the Betty Ford clinic (and maybe Jenny Craig). 

 

You Read It Here.... Again.

I know I have mentioned this brilliant idea in the past but this weekend the idea popped into my head again and the more I think about it, the more it sounds like the best idea ever.  Keep in mind, if anyone comes up with the capital and the necessary liquor license and copies my brilliant idea, I will be suing.  You read it here first (or in this case years ago and now, again).  There is a new mall opening up in a crazy, out of the way location that keeps getting so much media attention for apparently being the biggest mall ever (this I seriously doubt) and because they put the damn thing out in the sticks and cannot believe that the stores are having difficulty finding staff!  Maybe if someone with half a brain in their head said at the start of this little adventure “Hey, would you like to work part time for minimum wage and have to take the bus for almost an hour to get here for your four hour shift?”  Clearly, no one would say yes to this.  So now they have all these unfilled positions because the stores only want to hire part time, pay crappy wages and offer no benefits.  Hmmm, great business plan….  Opps, apologies…. Went off in a completely unrelated direction.  Back to my brilliant plan!  I, along with a few of my crazy friends (they have no choice in the matter, they are joining me!) will be opening up a martini bar in the mall.  Could you imagine?  Not only will this be great for the stay at home moms (Day drinking?  Yes!), Dudes who get dragged to the mall by their wives/girlfriends but also those of us who just hate shopping and would prefer to be at the mall, any mall tipsy.  The stores will love and support us (serious spending the drunker the customer), the cab companies will have to open up a special “mall only” branch to get people to and fro and me and my people?  We will be filthy rich!  I would, of course, make up special martini’s for each season (the best one being “Back To School-tini”).  It will be like all the craft beer locations that are popping up everywhere but with martinis and delicious snacks!  Who doesn’t love a martini?  Now to obtain the ever elusive liquor license and find a location in the mall next to a daycare!  Already counting my imaginary money!

The Gym - Where No One Knows My Name

I always said I would never, ever join a gym.  There are too many steroid monkeys strutting around and it is a serious workout hazard trying to dodge all the big floaty egos.  I am also extremely self conscious about looking like a gumby when I work out and I have a tendency to put on my workout gear inside out.  Both of which are not really an issue when you run by yourself or with a very kind running partner.

Alas, I realized quite quickly into this working far, far away thing that with the long work day and the even longer commute, there are days I just cannot (or don't want) to run or work out by the time I get home.  This is a big problem during the sport seasons where I get home from work, cram a cracker in my gullet and get back in the damn car to some athletic endeavor that is not mine.  So I reluctantly joined the gym at work.  Super convenient.  I have an hour long lunch break that I was just using as a hour long nap time in my car so the gym, it turns out, is a way better use of my time.  I sorta thought the gym at work might be full of just regular old nice people who all work together.  I.  Was.  Wrong.  Holy crap.  This gym may not be full of roid monkeys like most gyms but in three entire months of attending not one single person has expressed any interest in being friendly (and yes, I do smile at them to see if they are friendly gym creatures) but nothing, not even a slight nod.  What is with these people?  Are they to important to be nice to others?  Are they so into focusing on their workout that they are incapable of friendly overtures?   (Side Bar:  I was a little worried that it might just be me and they could see right through my crazy but I noticed that none of them talk to each other either, even in the changing room.  Nothing.  Not a word!)  Despite the gym snobs I continue to go as often as I can talk myself into it (even though I hate every single minute and many of the minutes afterwards during the annoying "after sweat" when I am sitting at my desk trying to NOT pass out from over heating!).  I will also continue to smile at the Gym Snobs until I wear one of them down and they suddenly decide that they are either sick of me smiling like an idiot at them or they get a freaking personality. Whichever comes first!

GoatGate - The Next Crisis

Yup, you read that right.  GoatGate.  I am currently in the midst of a very large "disagreement" with Hawkgirl regarding the visiting of actual, live goats on my next visit to her home.   I started out being quite open to the idea of visiting the goats (coincidently, none of Hawkgirls family want to go with her to the "goat farm".  Should have been my first clue that something was amiss!) I really had this vision of being safely on the other side of a fence and admiring the goats from afar.  Alas, I was so wrong.  So, so wrong.  Apparently, Hawkgirl wants to "snuggle" with the goats!  What the hell?  Goats are:  smelly, bitey and grossly unpredictable creatures whom, I assume, eat anything!  They are land seagulls.  After explaining to Ms. Hawk that I had no interest in Googling goat bite medical procedures and post-goat visit hand hygiene protocol, she promptly informed me that she was re-evaluating our friendship (because clearly she loves all things animal and I love all things not smelly and bitey!)  I did, throughout the entire conversation have "I will not visit goats Sam I Am, not in a house, not with a mouse, not in a......" well you get it.  As soon as I was informed that I needed to pack old clothing on my vacation, I again protested.  What the hell?  No one wants to pack old clothing with the intention of getting dirty on their vacation (unless, of course, you dig that kinda thing, which is ridiculous!)

 IF Goatgate comes to a peaceful end I will report back.  IF I end up in the emergency room of the tiny hospital in Hawkgirls home town you can BET you will be hearing about it.  

This is NOT a PET!!!!

Advice From Hawkgirl

About two weeks into this whole working with real people thing, Hawkgirl decided to send me some advice about working in an office.  Rules to live by:

• Get flu shot (maybe a few other shots as well) (I figured she put this first because of my general dislike of germs and bodily fluids).
• Wear comfy shoes to and from work and leave a box under your desk with work shoes and comfy shoes so that you can change often.  (Side note: saves on storage space at home AND you are free to purchase new shoes and husbands will never know).
• Comfy clothes are a must.  Any kind of pants with stretch and a longer shirt in case of bloating throughout the day!  

The comfy shoes and clothing thing has definitely been an issue.  What fits in the morning does not necessarily fit in the afternoon after eating lunch and definitely becomes an issue if you are stuck sitting in traffic for an hour on your commute home!   I have two pairs of shoes that essentially go with every outfit stashed in my desk and a pair of runners so I don’t have to pack runners back and forth (for the gym, another story that is!).  When Hawkgirl sent this advice I assumed she meant shoe box with a couple of pairs of shoes.  She, however, was referring to a bankers box full of shoes for every season and every possible outfit.  She did send a picture that I was going to post with this but I don’t want to become the agent for potential marital therapy between the Hawk and her husband.   Not going to go there.

On another note, I met with some of my old co-workers from my last position and they were very curious as to my level of crazy about my new commute, working with people and germs.  I think I reassured them that I was still holding my own and had yet to run out of the building screaming.  So far.  First outbreak of some animal flu and I am ordering a hazmat suit on EBay.  

Goodbye My Mudder Friend

“Hey… how was Mudder this year?”  I am at a serious loss of words when it comes to this answer.  I have all kinds of swear words and exclamations of stupidity but honestly I cannot eloquently explain what an incredibly bad idea it is for old people (like me) to attempt Tough Mudder.  The course this year was muddier and definitely more challenging and, from what I could see, there were many more people walking around with injuries (except for one fella who broke his knee, all injured parties kept on plugging through the 20 km of pure hell).  It took about ten minutes after the start before I firmly decided that this would forever be my last Mudder.  I tried to embrace the experience and all that crap but after being in freezing cold water, knee high mud, blood sucking killer mosquitos and on and off rain for over five hours I lost my ability to be positive about enjoying anything.  Some idiot on the course started talking about a hot tub and that was all I could think of for at least two hours.   Why couldn’t they have an obstacle with a bloody hot tub?  Or warm, furry blankets?  Of course it did not help my situation at all that I fell off the back side of the Balls To The Wall obstacle and hurt myself (coincidentally this was the same place the fella broke his knee in within seconds of my fall so I do feel very grateful I just wounded my back and all my internal organs and did not break any bones.  Always something to be grateful for!)    Yes, I did finish (although I had to skip a few of the obstacles after my Humpty Dumpty off the wall) and that in itself is a huge accomplishment however my Muddering days are officially over.  Next year I am going to help coach.  That seems like a better idea for me.  Warm coat, dry clothing and beverages!  Sounds more like my activity level.

Run Like a Girl and Sotally Tober Fudder Muckers

The time has come to admit the next degree of insanity of which I begrudgingly am subjecting myself to.  The first is a 11 kilometer trail run up a crazy ass mountain, around what I assume is a lake, with Lady Gazelle.  I have never been to said Lake nor have I run the type of elevation that is said to be forthcoming.   Full disclosure here - I hate running hills.  Even the slightest bump in the road causes my body to drain of energy and I want to throw up/curl up in the fetal position on the side of the trail/road.  Of course, over the last few months whenever Lady Gazelle suggested we start hill training so we were prepared for the insane elevation we have to look forward to I, being a crafty mind twister, said something to the effect of "Oh, yes we should do that.  What a fantastic idea.  Great training plan." Etc. Etc.  all the while thinking "You must be effing nuts.  If you really want me to train on hills you are going to have to cave woman like drag me by my hair kicking and screaming because I will only participate in that activity while tipsy/drunken (hmmm, hill training plan is coming together in my head nicely now.  Run to pub on hill, drink, run down hill and back to pub.  It's like a running incentive plan.  I am writing the proposal to Lady G next!).  Regardless of what happens in this run next week I plan to fully enjoy the experience and have an awesome time with Lady G.  I am sure we will have many laughs, even if we end up eating a ton of disgusting mountain bugs along the way.

What you may ask is the Sotally Tober Fudder Muckers?  That is the sweet, inventive name the group of young people decided for the team this year for Tough Mudder.  Yes, I know you are already saying out loud "but you said you would never do that shit again?"  You are right.  I was coerced and badgered into joining again.  Why? I have no idea.  It's not like I was the life of the party last year running around after the race doing shots and dancing on the table.  In all reality after we all sat in the hot tub nursing our weary bodies I went back to my room, had poutine from Zogs and a few drinks and maybe cried a little.  (Not to mention both my legs cramping up to the point of thinking maybe I needed to call an ambulance.  Turns out running an obstacle course for hours and hours, sitting in a hot tub and then partaking in beverages is okay as long as you add some water in there somewhere.  Apparently being pelted with hail and rain does not qualify as hydration.  Who knew?)  I have already decided that this will be my last kick at the Mudder can because I am getting to freaking old for this nonsense and I have new adventures to see to.  I hope to accomplish and/or attempt some of the obstacles I could not do last year because of the rain/hail (Artic Enema - this means you!)  and maybe enjoy the whole experience more now that I know what to expect.

I will, as always, report back on the spectacular events of each day for no other reason than to let you know that if your running partner or kid ever come up with a hair brained idea to do something athletic way, way out of your comfort zone you can remember this and say "oh, hell no" with dignified confidence!

Co-worker Adjustment Period

A couple of weeks into the new job and I have adjusted to getting up way, way before the birds,  attempting to look like a normal human being and spending many hours locked up in an office.  I have managed to find things to amuse myself other than iv bagging coffee into my veins.  Who has NOT adjusted is my one ex-coworker who has now decided that if I am not going to be around all day long to meet his every need, he is going to show me and forgo the litter box and do his business in all other areas of the house.  Its kinda like coming home to your own special easter egg hunt but its not bloody easter and the eggs are cat business number two (on a side note the whole house smells as well!). I have threatened to leave him in a cat diaper all day long but he just gives me a look like "just try it lady".  I could just see the result of that.  There would be cat diaper and cat crap all over the house when I got home!  For now the score is Ex-CatCo-Worker - 1, Me - 0.

The Hermit Goes Out Into The World

Well, you will all be happy to hear that I am no longer lounging around in my pajamas all day eating bon bons.  I have officially started a job that requires I actually leave the house!  There are real living people at my new office that I need to make eye contact with and communicate with.  It has been a bit challenging but I am getting used to it.  Best part so far is watching the different personalities of the people I now work with comingle.  I have the luxury of just hanging back and watching the power personality struggles happen.  I am also keeping myself completely neutral on all aspects of office politics/drama and hope to keep it that way.  I am learning a lot so my brain is happy.  Biggest challenge so far?  Finding my damn car in the parking lot after hours and hours of being locked up inside!  The second day I literally walked around hitting the lock button on my car so it would beep if I got near it!  I was beside myself.  When I got home the youngest money sucker told me to just take a picture of the number on the parking spot after I got out of my car in the morning.  Kid has moments of brilliance, however fleeting.  I did this for a week or so and now I have just decided that taking out my phone that early in the morning is way too much work so I just park the damn car in the same row every day.  That way I am not wandering around looking at numbers and if my car is NOT in that row then someone “borrowed” it forever.  It is way too early to tell how this working outside of the house social experiment is going to go but on the plus side the location I work at has a Starbucks AND a sleep clinic.  Maybe I can get some help with the insomnia and if all else fails I can always move my desk into the Starbucks!

To Many Witty Titles - See Subtitles Below........

The "Running Rookie"

I am calling Lady Gazelle the "running rookie" here, this one time only for a chuckle, because this lady is no rookie.  She is a genuine athlete.  She does all types of athletic crazy shit like ride a bike for hours and hours (sore sit bones? yes?) and swim (yes, swim! Crazy as that is the woman willingly puts on a bathing suit and goes in actual water to exercise!  Swimming to me is strictly a matter of surviving if I ever find myself in water larger than a puddle.  I don't even call it "swimming"  I call it "get me the heck outta here before my hair gets wet".)  So me: Uncoordinated running turtle.  Lady Gazelle: Triathlete super freak.  It's just a matter of time before she pats me on the head at the beginning of the run and continues on with the other, long legged, accomplished runners.  Anyway, I am telling my rookie story because this may be the one and only time I can call her this and it was a funny story to tell over beers the night of the run......

Last weekend I left the route up to Gazelle.  We were scheduled to run one more kilometer than the week before so 11 long, arduous kilometers. My brain was so completely focused on just getting through 11 that when I was so informed that the route she had planned could take us over that I pretty much said "this body is stopping at 11"  (I literally could visualize myself, mid trail, stopping and pitching a three year old, all out legs flaying, arm swinging, hissy fit).  My partner so informed me that I was welcome to stop at 11 but I was still going to need to get my fat ass off the trail and back to the vehicle so I better just suck it up and get it done.   Well I'll be a monkeys uncle.  The honeymoon is over.  Gazelle is turning into a bossy, "gonna put hills in this route" running freak!  Well, we got it done.  Some parts being harder than others - like the freaking mountain ranges we had to climb.  We finished with a distance of 12.5 kilometers.  Lesson learned:  Never let the Overly Enthusiastic Running Rookie pick the route.  Side bar: Running sucks.  Finishing a run is the most amazing thing ever!

I Am Sure There Are Worse Things To Obsess Over??

I may or may not have a few "quirks" that I will completely deny if asked about.  Okay, I don't actually give a fat flyer if people know about some of them.  One of my quirks is my teeth.  Yes, If I could stand to look inside peoples mouths I would have become a dentist or an orthodontist.  Problem with this career was clearly the teeth are attached to people and I don't want to particularly have to deal with the people attached to the teeth.  If one could take the teeth out and leave them in a lab for me to fix and make pretty, I am all in.  That and don't forget that I am not all that much a fan of any type of bodily fluid.  Saliva qualifies as bodily fluid so this career got the red slash right away.  Anyway, back to my issue.  I am one of those freaks who love to go to the dentist for a cleaning (not for all that scraping shit, just for the clean teeth!)  If I could, I would get my teeth cleaned once a month.  I quite possibly over-brush my teeth because I can't stand furry teeth.  This blither leads me to last night.  I take the youngest to one of his gagillion practices and go into the arena to watch a bit of a game when I think to myself - "Damn, I have a piece of popcorn husk stuck in my tooth.  Damn that's a big piece of popcorn."  (Side note: I had popcorn for dinner, so alarm bells were not ringing.  YET).  I start walking to the ladies room and pulled the popcorn piece out and almost lost my mind!  I was standing in the lobby of the arena holding half of my freaking tooth!  In my hand!  I then, as you can imagine started freaking out!  My tooth!  What the hell.  Is the dentist working at 9:00 at night?  Can I Google him and find out where he lives?  Oh crap.  Well, it turns out half the crown I had on that tooth decided to leave and now I have exposed tooth roots and a screaming headache.  It was a perilous night and a panic call to the dentist this morning!  Thank goodness they squeezed me in this afternoon or I would be popping Ativan like M & M's.   Now to spend the day not eating or breathing in any cold air.  Goodness.....

Still to come......

Me working with actual humans, starting on Monday.
No one knows how this adventure is going to go!
and
Team Sotally Tober Fudder Muckers - you can only imagine....

Running - Because I am to spazzy to do any other workout activity!

My new running partner - before the injury!

A few months back I decided to break out of my hermit shell and join a local running club.  I realized that I was spending way, way to much time working and running by myself and I figured it was only a matter of time before I stopped leaving the house all together.  So outside I went to run with strangers.  Total strangers.  Talk about stepping outside my comfort zone!  When it comes to running, I tend to lean towards wanting to be alone so I can talk myself out of running the entire time (and curse.  A lot).  I am not going to sugar coat this adventure, the first few weeks of this run club I felt like a fish outta water.  Everyone seemed to be grouped up already and they did not seem to be accepting any new people into their elite running club.  Alas, by week three I met a running friend (who coincidently felt exactly the same way about the non-entry into the running clan).  I knew we were going to get along just fine when I asked her, about ten minutes after meeting her, if she was going to do the long run on Sunday.  Her reply: "No, I might be to hung over to run".  Well, bless her heart!   I aptly named my new running partner The Gazelle, soon after to be re-named The Wounded Gazelle.  A few weeks into the mileage adventure Gazelle injured her leg and while we never want our friends to be on the injury list, this turned out to be a bonus for me.  The Wounded Gazelle's injury pace was just perfect for me (she has legs ten miles long and I run on turtle stumps) so, it seemed, we got along just fine on the road too!  Now that my wild friend is recovered I swear I can see her struggling to keep turtle pace so I am going to have to find a way to run faster - or just meet her at the end of every run.   Now it seems, in a couple of months, we are going to run a 11km trail race around a lake somewhere that may or may not involve dirt.  Huh, funny what happens when you get out of the house.

Me - On a Trail Run

The Worlds Most Knowledgable Esthetician

A couple of weeks back a good friend and I booked appointments for much needed pedicures.  Much needed by her because the beeotch was going on a Mexican vacation shortly after (no jealousy here!) and I because all the miles I have put in running are completely destroying my feet!  This adventure is always one of the most exciting yearly activities for me.  Not only do we leave the spa with beautiful toes but we then proceed directly to a martini serving establishment which, in the past, has required us to call one of our off-spring to come get us because we won't drive under the influence of vodka!   This year was no different however it did include the introduction of the Most Knowledgeable Esthetician EVER......

Shortly after arriving at said spa, as per usual custom, the nail lady asks how short you want your nails.  I proceed to say "as short as possible so they don't turn black when I run".  To which starts a litany of unwanted exercise/shoe/nutrition/health advice!  Starting with "you know exercise isn't that good for you.  You are not going to lose weight exercising.  You should just change your diet."  Momma say what?  Hmmm.  First off, who said anything about running to lose weight?  Did I tell you I was on Weight Watchers?  No.  She then proceeded to tell me that she exercised in the past and it was super bad for her body and once she started eating better and NOT exercising that's when she lost weight.  Seriously.  I looked over at my friend in the next chair with her quiet, "not getting all up in your business" esthetician and she looked at me like "do you effing believe this?"  I couldn't.  All I really wanted to do was spend my time enjoying a nice glass of wine and having someone else paint my damn toes!  Well if Miss IKnowEverything doesn't then proceed to tell me that a.  I shouldn't run on pavement b.  I should buy shoes a size bigger and put cushiony insoles in them c. I should also put cotton balls in the toes of my one size bigger shoes so my toes don't get crushed and d. I am really fat (totally making this one up, but I can't lie, she did seem to be implying I was fat!).

Right at the start of this little adventure my soon to be sporting a suntan friend decided to intervene in order to prevent me from going from zero to "I am going to fuck you up with words lady" and took it upon herself to counter pretty much everything Miss University Degree in Everything had to say!  (This is what a good friend she is.  She took the liberty of intellectual knowledge slamming this lady so I could essentially check out mentally.  Possibly because she was soon to be sitting on a beach drinking all sorts of tequila and I would be sitting here in the rain, crying.)

The night turned out to be awesome.  Martinis, pretty blue toes and great company.  Oh and a story to tell.  Nothing wrong with all that!

(PS - Every single female type person I have told about this adventure gets extremely pissed off.  Mostly because the spa we went to is one of the most costly and one would expect better, more respectful service than that and one of the best parts of the pedicure experience is to relax and get a little pampered, NOT defend yourself and walk out feeling fat!)

Vegetables, Back Fat & A Wake Up Call

My good friend Hawkgirl suggested last week that I watch the movie Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead.  Well, if that isn't a sign from my friend that perhaps the storage of winter fat I am sporting might be reaching epic proportions!  I watched said movie and then promptly watched the next movie Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead 2 (creative name?).  If those movies don't make you, at the very least, run to the produce market and buy some shit ass kale, I don't know what will!  I mean really, every single one of us knows that our bodies run better on healthy food but vegetables?  Yuck.  There are very few vegetables that I would just die to eat!  My death row meal will absolutely NOT have a single vegetable in it (because what the hell, ya leavin anyway!)  So Hawkgirl and I start a vegetable experiment: Replace one meal a day with a smoothie/juice a day that consists of mostly vegetables with the grand plan of working our way up to two a day.  Three days in I am completely SOLD on this vegetable/fruit eating crap and have proceeded to two smoothies a day!  This is the best way to punch vegetables in without actually eating/tasting them!  By day four my oldest money sucker thought I had ingested six cups of espresso for breakfast, I had that much energy!  I even think that, come summer, I might just replace beer/wine/spirits with a kale infused vodka laced beverage!  Everyone will sit around judging the crap out of me and thinking I am one pair of Birkinstocks away from Veganville, all the while wondering why I am so wasted!  Win.  Bloody.  Win.

I will report back long term findings of this experiment. 

(PS - If I EVER suggest to any of you that I might want to live on a farm and grow my own vegetables PLEASE stage an intervention.  That would be crossing way over the line because hello - dirt!)

(PSS - Just in case you wondered what my death row meal would be, right now it would be poutine at Zogs in Whistler at 2:00 am.)

Fries and Running - A Message to Mr. Fitness Freak

A short time ago a fit friend of mine posted this ridiculousness on Facebook:

Well, jokes on you Fitness Freak, if this was meant to be a deterrent to eating french fries you would be all sorts of wrong!  When I saw this post I almost cried!  All I have to do is run just a hair under six kilometers to have, what appears to be, a large fries!  I am in!!!!  Lesson learned Mr. I Am So Fit, next time you post stuff to get people to stop eating bad food take a look at your audience because oh baby I am going to start a new workout routine by running my fat ass right down to the McDonalds! 

In Case You Ever Doubted My Sanity

Just as a small aside to the other wonderful things I have to write.  Here is a little glimpse into what may or may not go on in my head at any given time......

It was Christmas Eve and a group of family members were on their way to come and celebrate the season with us (in kid speak this means "open presents a day early" and in adult speak this means "another excuse to eat shitty food and drink beverages").  It was decided early in the planning stages that this would be an appetizer night since we were all due to be eating the carb mother load the very next day.  Of course no appetizer night is the same without a trip to Costco for extra large boxes of frozen regret.  This is where it was decided that breaded calamari might be fun (Seriously, can you all read between the lines on this one?  Who makes their own breaded calamari?  That shit has to be fried beside the french fries and mac and cheese balls for the optimum amount of grease and artery hardening properties!)  Well if I don't read the fine print on the box (see pic below) just before loading them in the oven and see the most magical, happy rhyming words I have ever seen!  This made my entire night!   Say it with me:

Rings & Tentacles!

Isn't that the funniest thing you have ever read/said out loud! I must have said this amazing phrase a million times over the next few days.  Every time someone asked me a question I added a "Rings & Tentacles" to my answer (In my head of course.  If it had been out loud I would be writing this from a padded room.  Obviously.)  I actually found myself singing this phrase over and over.  If I ever take up meditation this will be my Ohmmmm phrase, which in hindsight might not be a good idea because I can't help but laugh every time I say it!  Might just name my next cats Rings (who will obviously have stripes) and Tentacles (physical properties of this cat are currently eluding me, mostly because when I hear the word tentacles I, of course, think octopus so....)

Anyway, watch for a Rings & Tentacles Day.  It could happen.

ACTUAL box of calamari!

Which were gross.  If you want to kill

yourself eating this stuff

go to a restaurant.  Might just as well

order the fried mac and cheese

balls too!  No wait!

EAT VEGETABLES

Follow me on Twitter??? WTF?

To begin with, I am the first person who trashed Twitter because I saw the steady decline of our youth becoming unable to form sentences into meaningful paragraphs.  And for this I blamed Twitter.  Guess what?  I went shopping today for a pair of new running pants (running? Yes, that story to follow) (and upon re-reading this I realized how seriously messed up it is to start talking about Twitter then go directly to shopping for running pants.  Who can't string a bunch of sentences together now!)  Back to the shopping: because I am getting tired of doing laundry every second day since I only really have two pair of decent pants to run in.  After trying on 7 pairs of running pants all the while trying to NOT look in the mirror I sat down and almost cried.  Stupid winter fat.  Then it occurred to me.  Maybe one of my friends would want to know this information on a timely basis so we can drown our sorrows in wine and cake.  (Or in my case wine and/or beer, cake and/or sandwiches.  LOVE sandwiches!)  Anyway, I thought it would be a super fun challenge for this old, fat gal to try and link up the little blue bird to my blog.  I did it!  Bite me all you young, grammatically challenged skinny people.  

An Adventure in Babysitting - AKA: Why I am no longer a qualified daycare provider.

This past Christmas break I had the privilege to help my favourite niece with a little babysitting.  Her daycare decided to shut down for a few days over Christmas and she needed a bit of help with the watching of her beautiful four year old wipper snapper.  I signed on for two days.  Two FULL days.  I am not talking about four hour stints here.  Two, entire full work days (plus travel time=long, long days).  I figured how hard could it be?  She's a cute little girl.  Don't they just colour all day and watch Frozen?  I immediately told the Old Boy and the Youngest Money Sucker they had to help.  Old Boy was in as long as he could convince her to sit and watch golf/hockey/any other sport with him and the Youngest Money Sucker pretty much said "Hell no! I will be in my room."  Nice.  The first day came and I quickly realized that I was so unqualified to watch girl type people.  Within the first 45 minutes I was begging the other family members to take a one hour "answer the four year olds questions" shift.  My reasoning was that if we each took a shift answering the endless stream of ridiculous questions, then the others could take a break (therefore preventing all of us from going insane at the same time).  Never in my life have I met a person who talked that much and asked that many questions!  Boys may be dirty and a little dumb but Holy Hannah they are much quieter!  (In hindsight maybe they are a little dumber because they don't ask a million and a half questions?  Huh.  I'm however sticking with puberty completely destroying their grey matter.  That's my theory.)

After the first full day of child minding I realized that colouring and movie watching was not this little person's cup of tea.  For heavens sake she never stopped moving OR talking for more than one entire full minute.  I was mentally exhausted.  Not only did she exude endless amounts of energy, she also was an extremely smooth manipulator (thank goodness for texting or I would have clearly let her eat all the candy and chocolate that she told me her mom let her eat "all the time" within the first two minutes of arriving!)  I still had another full day.  Oh holy crap.

Day two arrives and I think I am much more prepared.  My helpers however have flown the coop and found important "errands" they needed to run.  Jerks.  I think I am super creative and take her to the library which, as it turns out, emits another litany of questions I did not see coming.  After the library we do lunch then beautiful, wonderful nap time.  My niece lets me in on a little napping secret so I tell her that she just needs to take a teeny, tiny nap but I won't start the "nap timer" until she is asleep (my niece is a genius) to which I leave the room only to listen to her talk to herself for over an hour.  Non-stop jabbering. To. Herself.  How can one small  person have that much to say? 

Fun side of this story is that during her nap jabber time I texted the oldest money sucker (who was on the same floor as Chatty Cathy) and asked him if he still thought his little brother was all that bad.  I got a resounding "Oh Hell No".  That was the first win of the day.  The second win was me reminding the oldest how vitally important BIRTH CONTROL is.  He concurred.  Lessons learned for everyone!!!!!

The Travesty and various other words to describe the current situation.

Before I start blithering on and on about the injustices of my world an update on the youngest money suckers health:

Kid is fine.  Grumpy and moving a lot slower than is his norm but the first surgery went well and the young lad is bouncing back rather quickly.  We did have some interesting moments during our hospital stay (I say "our" because I stayed there the entire time.  It was the most brutal three days I can clearly recall.)  The most heart wrenching was being on a floor filled with babies and children who have had surgery.  It is the saddest thing I can imagine and the nurses who work there are absolute saints.  Every single nurse we came across during our time there was amazing.  It is however, the absolute worst place to heal.  Rest and sleep are non-existent.  By day three I told the kid to get dressed and look normal because if we had to spend one more night in that place I was going to kill someone (that and the "parent bathroom" looked like it had NEVER been cleaned and the entire time we were there, there was a urine sample in the parent shower which confused the heck out of me because a. why was a parent of a child in Childrens' Hospital giving a urine sample? and b. who is responsible for cleaning that damn bathroom?  I would bet money if I went back there today, over two weeks later, that bottle of pee would still be there!  Gross.)  One small surgery left for the lad in a few weeks and then hopefully he (and his defective kidney) will be good to go on to many great adventures!  (On a more hilarious note the boy has been uncomfortably peeing blood since the surgery, which is entirely normal until the stent gets removed from his kidney.  This has however, provided me with an opportunity to tell him that is what could happen to him and his wizzer if he doesn't protect himself during "relations".  So much fun embarrassing your kids.  It's clearly why we have them.  Right?)

Back to me - Now that the boy has recovered enough to go back to school, I am going to make myself an appointment with the Crazy Doctor because clearly, honestly this is the path I am travelling.  Take today for example: I did my usual on line job search, sent out a few resumes, made banana bread, cleaned the kitchen, took out the recycling bins, emptied the dishwasher, cleaned the litter box and then, while waiting for the banana bread to come out of the oven, found myself sewing up a hole in the kids shirt.  It was at this point where I looked up and said out loud "What the fuck!".  When did I become Susy Homemaker?  I don't sew!  That was the last straw.  I almost grabbed a beer out of the fridge just to counteract the Pink Work I had just done.  Sewing.  Come on, really?  I need help.  Or a job.  Whichever comes first. 

Just Not Funny......

I am not delivering on my previous funny post promises (see below), I am however just checking in for those friends who are out of town and read this first before "catching up".  If my surgery and job loss were not enough to make me just a little twitchy on the edges, now the youngest money sucker has to have his own surgery.  All I have to say right now is there is not a single, bloody thing I can think of that is funny and/or sarcastic about a kid having surgery.  It just sucks.  Plain and simple.  I will, hopefully, find something funny at the end of the current situation tunnel and post accordingly  OR I may re-resume my drunk blogging.  One has to have goals, however twisted.