If you can't stand the heat, get out of my blog

I told you I was going to post about how I bend it like Bikram in hot yoga. I desperately want to claim I thought of the phrase bend it like Bikram, but I didn't. I read it on the internets somewhere. Anyway, it would be a lie because I don't quite bend it. I sort of stretch and reach it and suffer through it and often just give up and lay down during it. What I love about hot yoga is that even when you've exhausted yourself and have to lay down during class you're still burning tons of calories. Where else can you work out like that? I challenge you to think of a place where you simply lie down on your back and get a work out. Actually, no, don't tell me. I don't need to know about your naughty business. The point is hot yoga, although torturous and miserable, is a fantastic way to work out. It's the best detox too. However, there are a few things it's not good for, such as people with fantastic sense of smell (me), people who don't want to hear other people fart (me), people who are grossed out easily - especially when it comes to other people's sweat and emissions (me) and people who generally prefer laying in a vegetative state watching reruns of The Hills to exercise (again, me). So I'll be honest, these things keep me from going sometimes. I get scared I'm going to have to work out next to Stinky McFartsalot, Missy Idon'twashmymat or Bikeshorts McGee. I'm not a fan of these people. What I am a fan of though is feeling great and hot yoga really makes you feel good (afterward). So if you've never done it, give it a try. If you have, leave me a comment and tell me some things you love and some things you hate about it. I'll bet we're not so different me and you.

Stass McGrass

Stacie told me the other day she reads my blog daily and thoroughly enjoys it. I was really happy to hear that. I didn't really expect people to tune in very often, let alone daily. Suffice to say Stacie is my biggest fan. As a thank you to my loyal friend I'm going to tell you a few things I love about her. If you leave comments and read my blog a lot maybe I'll post something nice about you too.

1. Stacie's nickname is Stass. Some people call her Stace but I reject this. Everybody named Stacie is called Stace at some point in their lives, right? How many Stacie's do you know that go by Stass? That's right, one. And this is one of the reasons I love her, a kick ass nickname.

2. When Stass was a kid she had a pet squirrel that scratched her back while she fed him peanuts over her shoulder. The best part, the squirrel's name was Snidely Whiplash. I don't even need to elaborate here.

3. Somebody with a pet squirrel named Snidely Whiplash could only be the offspring of a race car driver and a sky diver. Coolness abounds.

4. Stacie is the only person that would laugh if I ask her "what handouts?". See? If you're not Stacie, you're not laughing.

5. Our junior year of high school Stacie convinced me to go up to some girl and tell her I was going to kick her ass. This was completely asinine of course because I could not (and cannot) kick anybody's ass seeing as how I am 4'11'' and can't even open a bottle of Gatorade. Regardless, with the confidence of Stacie having my back I walked up to this girl and told her I was going to "regulate" and some other silly things. A few years later Stacie and I ran into this girl at Time Out and had a good laugh.

I know you all have your own crazy ass stories about Stacie. Feel free to comment.

Wii Fitness? yes please

Let me preface this post by telling you how good I am at Wii bowling. My best is a 243, pretty good, right? I rarely bowl under 200 and my Mii looks hella good. I always* beat Dan by bringing what I like to call "the fury". Beware "the fury" if you ever bowl against me on Wii; real bowling, not so much. I bowl better than Obama though, and probably Hilary too. Anyway, now you know my secret power and how much I enjoy the Wii. So Wii is coming out with a new game/system thing called Wii Fitness. The article I read online today says it facilitates such activities as yoga and push ups. That's a random ass combination but I'll go with it, must be a zany Japanese thing. They are always coming up with all sorts of wacky stuff like Pokemon and sushi. So I am somewhat interested in obtaining this Wii Fitness and trying it out for myself. I hope it contains more features than yoga and push ups though, maybe a little kickboxing or Pilates would be good. I guess wii'll see (queue after-joke drum sequence). Dan if you're reading this don't forget my birthday is July 1st. love you.
*always=usually

Home, sweet, whatever...

Dan and I have been looking for a house the past few months. We have been really adamant that we want a flat fenced yard, 2 car garage and a good location (preferably Kirkland). So naturally we bought a condo in Kenmore. There's this little obstacle we've been facing called money. The obstacle is that we don't have much and people selling their houses want a lot. So we found a nice condo complex that has been "remodeled" or "converted" or whatever you want to call it, and put in an offer. It's been a few weeks and we've now officially bargained our meager, yet surprisingly valuable souls to the devil, started dealing drugs on holidays and weekends and signed a contract to name our first born Wells Fargo Remax Ross; but the condo is ours. Hooray. Perhaps in a few years we can afford furniture. Until then, little Wells Fargo will have to sleep in the bathtub.

Tag, I'm it

Shelby my friend who can't wink has tagged me and apparently I'm "it". So as "it" I am supposed to follow these simple rules:

1) you link back to the person who tagged you.

Ok, here is the link to Shelby's blog that I heart very much.

2) post these rules on your blog.

Done

3) share six unimportant things about yourself.

See below

4) tag six random people at the end of your entry.

Oh no, I don't know 6 people who blog, ok, I'll see what I can do.

5) let the tagged people know by leaving a comment on their blogs

Working on it....

Here are my six random facts:

1.) One of my dreams is to see Radiohead live. They are coming to town on August 20th and I am so bummed it's a Wednesday night. Also, I don't have any friends that heart Radiohead as much as I do. I'm debating going by myself big nerd style.

2.) I can't watch people kiss or brush their teeth on TV. It grosses me out big time.

3.) I have a coworker whose hair is the exact same shape as Darth Vader's helmet. It used to be funny but now it just makes me mad. She is the coworker addressed in my first entry. I despise her helmet hair and her son Luke.

4.) I really need a tan.

5.) Dan has been trying to get me to ski and play golf for a couple of years now. I have tried but I really suck at both.

6.) I bend it like Bikram in hot yoga. I'll probably post about it soon.

I am searching for someone to tag, I'll get back to you...

Project Fear Moment of Survivor Spaces

I have this idea for a new reality show. You get all the reality show hosts together and pit them against each other in challenges. So you would have Allison Sweeney the host of The Biggest Loser, Hiede Klum host of Project Runway, Paige Davis the wacky shaggy haired monster in my recurring nightmare and host of Trading Spaces, Jeff Probst graduate of Bellevue High and host of Survivor, Joe Rogan of Fear Factor, Mark Whalberg from such gems as The Bachelor and probably the worst reality show ever - Moment of Truth and the list goes on and on.
Obviously Joe Rogan would win every event except the smarmy yet charming grimace/smile combo throw down which would clearly go to Jeff Probst. The speed painting challenge may go to Paige Davis but I'll bet Rogan is a whiz with a paint roller. The only thing Allison Sweeney would win is the how to pretend you're sad that you just sent a fat person home contest. The participants would be voted off by their fellow contestants in a grandiose tribal torch bearing, flower giving, spider eating ceremony and the person who gets kicked off is told the most jarring send-off in reality show history: You are out and you are not the biggest loser but you are the weakest link goodbye and the tribe has spoken and said you're a liar and by the way you're fired see you later decorator p.s. you can't have this rose.
What do you think? You would watch it, right?

picture pages, picture pages, time to do your picture pages...

I have been reading your blogs lately and I've noticed you all have lots of great pictures. I have very few pictures and that's kind of bumming me out. So I've decided to post some pictures and break up the monotony of those damn boring ass words I love to post so much. Here you go:

This is my dog Lola. For awhile we thought she might be a Schnoodle (half Schnauzer - half Poodle) but now we're pretty sure she's pure Schnauzer. A few weeks ago they switched her at the groomers and gave Dan back the wrong dog. He actually left with Luna, the identical Mini Schnauzer. It was a mess. Lola loves to chew dirty socks. Her new favorite hobby is stealing the socks off my niece Carolina's feet. This is Carolina:

I am in love with her. Notice that she is in my mother's arms. My mom has not put her down since the minute she was born. For real, she has been holding her for 3 months and 2 days. We are expecting to surgically separate them on Carolina's 18th birthday. Carolina throws up a lot. I am told that most babies throw up a lot but I'm not inclined to believe it. If I did I would never have children of my own. So let's pretend Carolina is some kind of vomiting freak child and most kids don't actually reveal the contents of their stomachs until they are 14 and drink an entire Strawberry Fields Boones and three Busch Ices and throw up all over their friend's parent's carpet in which case I don't have to deal with it. Humor me.

I don't have a clever transition into the next picture so here it is:

This is our bungalow in Bora Bora. We went there for our honeymoon and it was freakin amazing. If you ever get the chance I would highly recommend going there. Be aware that a drink costs $25 at any hotel. Don't fret, you can go to the grocery store and get Tahiti Drink, possibly the best liquid concoction ever devised by man. It's fruit punch and alcohol mixed in a handy carton. You must know the fruit punch is fresh juice from Bora Bora's vast array of tropical fruits. The alcohol, um, I'm not so sure what exactly the alcohol is, but trust me, it is delicious. Flights leave from LA daily, don't try to finagle any upgrades because you're on your honeymoon. So is everybody else.

That concludes my picture post. I hope you enjoyed the break between the bothersome text.

oh the shame

I've been hesitant to post anything because I don't want to have to tell you about my weekend.

I did a very bad thing. It was so innocent though, it crept up on me. I didn't even notice it sneaking up, getting cozy, brushing back my hair, whispering in my ear, "Lit, you know you want to, come on, don't deny it". So before I could rationalize, think, resist - before I could do anything it was upon me. Cheese. There, now you know. I'm so ashamed. I totally went on a cheese bender this weekend.

It started on Friday at my co-worker's 40th birthday/conference room pizza party. My job was to bring the drinks. I had a brilliant plan to buy some 2 liters of pop in the morning before work. At the same time I would pick up something dairy-free for lunch. After singing Happy Birthday I would leave to "run an errand" but really go back to my desk and be good and eat my dairy free lunch and maybe blog about how my co-worker is really 42 but I'm just playing along. Things went horribly wrong at the grocery store. The 2 liters were beyond my reach on the top shelf.  It was 10 to 7 in the morning so there really wasn't anybody in the aisle to help me. I considered just buying 12 packs of cans but I wouldn't be able to carry them. So I went out to the bakery section and asked this guy if he would help me. It really wasn't a big deal, he was totally nice and came and got me 2 liters of Coke, 2 liters of Diet Coke, 2 liters of Dr. Pepper and 2 liters of Sprite. I put them in my canvas tote (because I heart Mother Nature and don't insult her by using plastic bags) and paid for my bevy of sodas and went to work. In the commotion of practically being a little person and getting sidetracked by my freakishly short legs I totally forgot to buy a healthy lunch.

Obviously my genius plan to avoid the pizza failed. I was so hungry at noon that I sang Happy Birthday and then proceeded to gorge myself on 2 slices of pizza and 1 slice of cake. I'm only human. So the dairy-free plan was ruined and the rest of my weekend consisted of consuming mass amounts of cheesy goodness. I even ordered mozzarella sticks at Lucky 7 on Saturday night. You know what, they were delicious, and I don't regret eating them. 

I have yet to re-kick the dairy habit and get on the wagon, so to speak. I just ate a Girl Scout cookie, and it was damn good. Thin Mint, in case you're wondering. I've decided that a life without dairy is not worth living. How can you possibly avoid cheese? It's nonsense. I don't know what I was thinking. Moderation, that's the key.  Not so much mozzarella sticks though. That was probably overdoing it.

welcome back my friend

I'm not one to let the weather affect my feelings. When you live in Seattle you can't really call in sick and spend the day in bed watching movies when it rains. If you did, you'd lose your job and your muscles would atrophy. You'd be an unemployed vegetable who's really good at movie trivia. I've never claimed to have SAD and I don't go tanning to enhance my vitamin D absorption. I don't jet off to Arizona for spring training or spend a few weeks in Palm Springs, and that's usually fine. This year though, this year has been kind of rough in the weather department. There were those few mandatory teaser sunny days in February. Usually it's cold for awhile after that and then it gradually turns to spring. But when it was supposed to be gradually turning we got, surprise...snow.

So even though I'm all tough and weather resistant I started to get a little mad. I mean, come on, snow?! Are you fucking kidding me? For months now I've been cold. I mean all the time, I'm cold when I wake up, I'm cold all day in my shitty cubicle, I'm cold in my apartment and then I'm cold when I get into bed again. There are a few minutes when I'm not cold and those are the glorious few minutes I spend in the shower. So I suffer through all those crappy short ass grey misty freezing days and then everybody makes a big deal out of the first day of spring and we all get excited and go buy shorts and then we wake up and it's fucking snowing outside. For real? In my frustration I have abandoned all use of commas - forgive me.

So today, today was good. I went outside at lunch and it was sunny, and kind of warm. I'll take that as a good sign that maybe someday soon I will not spend the entire day in icy misery. I say welcome back to the sun, stay awhile, we need you.

this is a post about puke

If you are as grossed out by vomit as I am by loud gum chewing I advise you to quit reading. I’m going to tell you about my niece Carolina ejecting an entire meal of formula onto my sweatshirt on Saturday. This stuff she “eats” smells so foul in its pre-ingested state that I don’t even want to have to describe what it smells like the second time around. I’m also going to tell you about Dan’s stomach flu incident that landed us in the ER yesterday. Let’s just say the bath mat and the shower curtain are currently soaking in the washing machine. There was a throw-up chucking alien hiding in Dan's stomach yesterday. Every time Dan moved the little fucker would fire it up.

I’m grossing myself out so I’m going to wrap this one up. Just a friendly warning: the ER doc, Dr. McSlowasfuck, says there is a stomach virus going around. Wash your hands.

put the gum down and no one gets hurt

Dear Cubicle Neighbor,

What new information can I tell you about cubicles that hasn't already been said? Cubicles are small, yes, obviously. Cubicles are drab, boring, lifeless caves of despair; this much we know. Our cubicles rival any teeny working spaces I've ever seen, on TV or otherwise, with their 12 foot gray padded walls and "privacy doors" that make the "entrance" a mere crack through which we squeeze. However, as awful as most cubicles may be, there is one thing most offices don't have that I get the displeasure of experiencing every day. Cubicle Neighbor, I speak of your gum chewing.

Every time I hear you open your desk drawer I get a shiver if disgust from head to toe, top to bottom, my body retracts in the certain misery that will soon greet me. I hear you unwrapping your gum and I get the urge to bolt, to "shut this bitch down" as my good friend Kristi often says. As soon as the gum enters your mouth I cringe and cover my ears. For the next 45 minutes I am forced to suffer through your awful, smacking, wet, chewing gum noises. Forgive the cliche; your gum is nails and your teeth, well, they're the chalkboard Cubicle Neighbor.

I really, really wish you could just shut your damn trap and chew your gum as if you were a normal person. I really wish my back didn't face the "entrance" of my cubicle so I could wear headphones and not have to worry about people sneaking up on me and catching me using the Internet while I'm supposed to be working. I really wish there was a gum ban in our office, except for me, because I like chewing gum after lunch.

Please, please Cubicle Neighbor, be mindful of the exasperating noises that escape your mouth. We are not 2, but 6 people sharing a very small space. What used to be a storage closet is now our work area; I hope you can appreciate how each little smacking noise affects us all.

Thank you for your time in considering my feelings. I hope you will take my words to heart and discontinue all use of gum.

Sincerely,
Me

PS - Please cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze, please stop clearing your throat every 2 minutes and the x in faux suede is silent. thanks.

time to pray

My friends Amy and Taylor are engaged and will be married in August. As if this wasn't stressful enough, Taylor has this majorly HUGE and IMPORTANT test he's taking tomorrow and Saturday. I think the test is to become a certified financial planner (correct me if I'm wrong Aimes). The testing process was a series of small tests followed by one BIG one that will take up most of the day tomorrow and all damn day on Saturday. From what I hear Taylor has been studying his skinny ass off and Amy has been praying like she's never prayed before.
I really love these two; they are a blast to have around and they are two of the hardest working people that I know. They know how to work their assess off and, more importantly, they know how to party their asses right back on.
So if you read this today please say a prayer for Taylor. I personally am wishing him strength, mental focus, lots of patience with himself the next two days and a little bit of luck (which can't hurt) I am also sending lots of positive energy his way. Good luck Taylor, we know you will do great! I can't wait to celebrate in May when you get the results.

dairy free me

My inability to run any substantial distance has me second guessing my diet. The sluggishness has to come from somewhere, right? I drink plenty of water, get more than enough sleep and eat lots of fruit and veggies so I am left with one heartbreaking conclusion. It's time to say goodbye to my beloved dairy. This is no surprise, I was diagnosed with a debilitating and potentially fatal dairy allergy about 3 years ago (I am exaggerating; the only side effect to my dairy consumption is lethargy, occasional digestive discomfort of which I will not elaborate and a big ass). Since then I haven't been able to effectively banish dairy from my life; especially cheese which I love SO much. As my gut gets bigger and my chin starts to duplicate I am forced to face reality. So I have put the kibosh on the dairy starting today. There were left over scalloped potatoes from Easter, obviously those had to be consumed last night. So today is day 1.

I present to you my lunch:








See? No dairy. You probably can't tell from the picture but there is no cheese in my sandwich. The chips are plain (and baked, go health).

It will be really hard to not eat dairy. My goal is to last until May 11th, the day of the race. This means no quesadillas, no grilled cheese, no burritos, no cheesy hash browns on weekend mornings, no blue cheese stuffed olives, no pizza, not even simple delicious cheese and crackers. If giving up all that wasn't bad enough I also have to say goodbye to butter, cream cheese, sour cream and dairy creamer for my coffee. I will be honest with you; I don't know if I can do it. If I slip up I'll let you know. Until then I'll be eating carrots and drinking soy milk like a stinky spinning hippie.

Run Forest!

I don't know what got into me when I decided to train for a 5K. Kristi  and I were at sushi one night and she said she would like to train for something, you know, like assign herself some goal so she doesn't just feel like a hamster on the wheel. I'm paraphrasing, she didn't say it like that. For some reason, I agreed. I went home and looked up the next 5K in our area and emailed her the info. I even found us an 8 week running program titled "the couch to 5K in 8 weeks" or something really appealing that made me think I could actually succeed. So now I'm gasping through week 2 and I'm already $120 in (let's, of course I had to get new shoes). I've already registered and told Dan and my family so there's no quitting. 

I am delusional. I am harboring illusions that I'm this guy (minus the mental retardation):

I am no Gump. I can't just run across the country on a whim. Nobody is going to give me some kind of scholarship for my previously undiscovered athletic abilities. In junior high our PE teacher Mr. Murphy would make us run the Murphy Mile 3 times a week. Those days had me cowering in the corner trying to concoct some mysterious ailment or trying to pass off some falsified note from my parents saying running was against our religion. I went to Catholic school by the way, so yeah, maybe I am retarded.

I suppose 6 weeks from now I'll find out what I can really do. 3 miles is not a long distance for some people but it's just about a marathon to me. I will keep you posted on my progress. In the meantime I'll be out looking for a truckload of adolescent inbred hillbilly Alabamans to chase me and throw rocks. Maybe that will work.

T.G.I. go F yourself

What is up with my coworkers' obsession with the day of the week? I asked someone this morning a simple "how are you?" and the reply was "it's Friday". OK, seriously? I get what you're trying to say but come on, "it's Friday" is not an acceptable answer to "how are you?". Why do people let the week days control their emotions? Do you really feel like shit because it's Monday? Are you really doing ok because Wednesday is hump day which is almost Friday? I understand Monday through Friday are a knuckle dragging marathon through Satan's lair but do you really need to remind me what day it is every time I ask you a question? Please, stop and think. That's the problem; people don't want to think, or care about things. "It's Friday" is just a simple answer to get rid of me, to get me out of your hair. You don't really care how I am; I don't really care how you are. That much is established, but please, let's leave the days of the week out of it. I own a calendar, and a pair of eyes. Thanks for your consideration and have a great weekend.

30 for 30

Did you know this month is 30 for 30 at participating Seattle area restaurants? I just found out; I'm pretty upset I've let this deal pass for 19 days already. It used to be 25 for 25. That is, 25 participating restaurants offer a 3 course menu for only 25 bucks. Dan and I went to The Barking Frog and The Third Floor Fish Cafe. Both were really good and it was a great chance to try some places we wouldn't otherwise patronize. Let's, money is tight and we can't exactly dine our way around the town these days. So now, without my participation (or my consent) the deal has changed to 30 for 30. I'm not mad at it though; it's a pleasant surprise to wrap up a month which was otherwise uneventful.

Click here to check out who's offering what. I'll let you know if we take advantage of these last few days to defraud the public into thinking we can afford a nice meal out.

black velvet, if you please

Last night Dan's friend Ryan took us out to an amazing dinner at the Met. In the spirit of St. Patrick's Day we drank a round of Black Velvets. This is the first time I've heard of mixing Guinness with champagne. I have to say, it is delicious. It was the perfect drink for the occasion now that I think about it. The dinner was a wedding gift from Ryan so the mix of the two was quite approriate.

When we first got there I ordered a Snake Bite, thinking I'd get Guinness and cider, but I got some crazy whiskey drink instead. It wasn't so bad, but I was still pretty dissapointed that I didn't get what I ordered. So it was a really nice surprise how good the Black Velvet turned out. I highly reccomend this drink, put it in heavy rotation on your schedule. Let's be honest, I don't go out that much but next time I do chances are good you'll find me enjoying a sweet frothy Black Velvet.

the vice is right

Here's an addiction I can feel good about: Erin's Low Saturated Fat Popcorn. I can't stop eating this stuff. My former office mate Marcy got me hooked; now a trip to QFC isn't complete without a bag of this salty goodness. It's not so bad though, unlike meth or crack, Erin's popcorn is free of harmful chemicals. It's way cheaper than a yearlong membership to the Emperor's Club VIP and there's no risk of any federal investigations. I don't even have to pay in cash to cover my tracks. Let's be honest here, this is a vice worth holding on to.

I cannot advice so please stop asking

Dear Coworker,

I am not so fond of you. It's not because you demand the impossible (lower prices, earlier deliveries, quality at an affordable price, interest in your children/birthday/marital problem/stomach ailment/son's college entrance requirements/dog/car troubles). No, it's not those things. What I'm referring to here is the horrendous grammar that pollutes the messages in my inbox. I get this hastily written garbage daily. Before you hit send, read your email. I'd wager a hefty sum that you'll be as repulsed as I am once you realize how you look when you send me this steamy load of words.

This is the one. This is the mistake grinds my insides: "please advice". I let this one go for a long time. I understand that Microsoft bungled this one when they programmed spell check. Let's be honest though, this is not a difficult mistake to recognize. I assume you have been educated, and I assume at some point during your education you learned the parts of speech. Apparently I have made an ass of you, as well as myself. Here is a refresher, and I don't want to have to tell you again.

Advise = verb, advice = noun. It is not possible to advice. So quit asking me to do so. I cannot advice, even if you say please. I can't advice if the shoe is blue or yellow. I can't advice if the price is 4 dollars or 3. I am willing to ignore the various other grammatical errors in your emails if you just cut it out with this "advice" nonsense. I'll ignore your lack of knowlege concerning the use of elipses (i.e. "Hi Team....... ...... ....... ....). I'll even ignore your obnoxious use of the word "team" as a greeting in all of your emails (not grammatically incorrect but annoying nonetheless). Please, take my advice to heart. We will both be better people.

Sincerely,

Me