I can’t tell if my muscles are, like, giddy from activity or seizing from shock. Whatever the reason, my muscles are a-quiverin’ like Jell-O. My lovely friend Valerie let me use a guest pass to join her for a Body Pump class at the YMCA. She and I used to go to Body Pump every week together, and it was a grand ol’ time. Body Pump, for those of you who don’t know, is basically weight lifting to club music. It’s all about reps and toning muscle. It’s super fun, and I used to love going. But, after giving up my gym membership when I moved to the ‘burbs a few years ago, our weekly gym dates suffered, then stopped altogether. Sorry, Val! But tonight’s class, despite my shaky muscles and desperate sense of dehydration, was so awesome. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it. My body, though, is experiencing a violent reminder.
Here’s what I like about the Y. (I mentioned this back in November, but it's worth repeating.) It’s not uncommon to see people on the treadmills wearing jeans. No running shoes? No problem. Just wear those loafers you wore all day at work. No one cares if you look like crap. I preferred no makeup. No jewelry. People were lucky if I wore clean socks. Okay, so people didn’t make a habit of wiping down machines when they were done, and my friend Amy and I did have to formally submit a complaint about the dangerously bad B.O. this one guy always had, but whatevs. I can handle that, as long as there is an abundance of back issues of The New Yorker and plenty of people who have as little interest in chatting with each other as I do. Those are my people.
Geo (who is a total Gym Rat) asks me why I don’t just join a gym and quit complaining about not having a gym to go to. My response, which may as well be crocheted into a pillow, is always “Because I’m not spending $60 a month on a gym membership, when I could be spending it on groceries, gas, wine, and other staples.” I think I’m the last person on the face of the planet who doesn’t have a gym membership. The only time it’s glaringly obvious, though, is in the winter. Everyone goes to the gym because you can‘t do jack outside. But God, you’d think they were handing out Kate Spade bags filled with crack or something.
I held on to that like a Rebel Status for awhile, you know, refusing to conform. But now my body is just very angry at me for letting all my muscles atrophy for this long. Oddly enough, it doesn’t care that I’m taking a faux stand against the crazy high gym membership rates. For some reason, my muscles LIKE getting a work out. It’s almost like that’s what they’re for. I’m going to have to do something, because I am starting to agree with my body and I’m almost ready to give up my fake rage against the Machine that is Corporate Gyms.
Maybe there’s a way to compromise. Does anyone have a Thigh-Master I could borrow? Or maybe a Shake Weight? Or, hey, what about those giant machines that do 1,000 different exercises that also somehow slide under a bed? I could definitely use one of those. I tried to con my parents into giving me their elliptical machine, but it’s like the knew I wouldn’t use it for anything other than hanging wet clothes. We do have a pull-up bar in our house. The boys went through a phase when they all did P-90X, so they drilled a chin up bar in a door frame. I promised myself that I would use that thing everyday and one day be able to do 20 pull-ups, no problem. That was almost 3 years ago. I can do exactly one half of one pull up as of yet.
I’m definitely one of those suckers who, given the funds, would spend thousands of dollars trying to replicate a gym in the comfort of my own home thinking there‘s no WAY I wouldn‘t work out then. But then I would turn the gym into a wrapping paper room. And then it would become a second shoe closet. Talk about wasting money…stay away from me, Suzanne Somers!
It’s not even that I don’t LIKE working out. I actually do like it. I just also really like doing other things that, most of the time, seem way more appealing than going to the gym. Like napping. Or organizing my t-shirt drawer, or having a vodka tonic while reading blogs. Or, well, just not going to the gym. But I guess I’d like to not feel like I’m full of marshmallows anymore. Well, it seems there is only one choice: join a gym, or get a mallow-ectomy. Ugh. Decisions, decisions...
Showing posts with label La-Z Girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label La-Z Girl. Show all posts
Monday, January 17, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Oooh! FACE!
Okay, so do you guys remember yesterday when I was all haughty and proud of myself for neglecting tedious, but necessary, tasks around the house? I was all "Who CARES if I sit around on the couch all day? I'm not HURTING anyone, am I?" Well, color me pwned. This morning, back in full swing of a work week, I woke up when it was still dark out. I finished getting ready and was on my way out of my room so I turned off the light, then remembered I needed my purse. I started to feel around for it in the pitch black room, when I tripped on a pair of jeans tossed on the ground, and SLAMMED my face into my door. "Slammed" as in: Ran into it at full speed, square in the kisser. That's right, people. The person I ended up hurting by my laziness, was in fact, MYSELF. And consider it a lesson learned, because my face still hurts (Well it's KILLING ME!) and the developing egg above my eyebrow is just noticeable enough to make me clean my stupes room out of fear that it will happen again.
How totally appropriate, don't you think? I was all parading around on my high horse because I hadn't had ONE major accident in 2010, which is quite a feat when you're as clutzy as I am. Then BAM! Face in a door. And not even like the front or back of the door. No, my face went smack into the side - that one inch death trap. I felt like a Looney Tunes character, what with all the stars I was seeing.
As my friend Allyson helpfully pointed out though, at least my latest face injury is not the worst. A few years back, I tripped on one of those enormous IKEA bags on the floor of my room (Seriously?! When will I learn to just keep my room clean?!) and skidded my face on the carpet. I had HUGE rug burns on the right side of my face. It was all scabby and gross. Gnarlesville. When I left my job at a magazine shortly afterwards, the staff made a mock up of an issue, with my mangled face on the cover, giving a big ol' thumbs up. I still keep it in my room because, well, it's pretty hysterical.
I suppose I can track all this crazy face-violence back to when I was about 5 years old. I was at the pool. My mom was wrangling us five kids to get home, but of course I was dawdling, eating ants or something. My mom said "Pharon! Come on! We're LEAVING!" She wrapped an enormous towel around me and I padded after her as fast as I could. Kids? There is a reason they tell you not to run at the pool. My bare feet were no match for the slippery cement, and, duh, I slipped. I crashed down, face-first on the cement. My arms were wrapped in my towel, so I just toppled over. I ripped up my chin, and I still have a teeny scar to prove it.
So, I guess in the grand scheme of all my facial mishaps, this latest one isn't so bad. There's no blood, no need for stitches. Nah, it's actually pretty minor. But frazzle! It hurt so freaky bad. It was the kind of pain that it takes like 3 full seconds to actually register in your brain.
Besides spending the night cleaning my room, I also chugged like 4 glasses of milk. A girl can't have too much calcium when she needs to keep her face bones strong. And despite the promises I make to myself to be more careful, there's no telling what kind of risk I run by boldly wearing high heels in Minnesota icy winters. Though, in hindsight, none of my facial boo-boos have had anything to do with wearing heels. In fact, it's almost like when I DON'T wear heels, I leave myself open to the perils that lurk at ground level. Mix that with my natural lack of grace and we've got an accident waiting to happen, folks.
Hopefully I got my annual Injury out of the way. I'd consider it a win for me if the worst thing I have to deal with is a cartoony bonk on the face. And, this might be a neural hematoma talking, but it was pretty funny.
How totally appropriate, don't you think? I was all parading around on my high horse because I hadn't had ONE major accident in 2010, which is quite a feat when you're as clutzy as I am. Then BAM! Face in a door. And not even like the front or back of the door. No, my face went smack into the side - that one inch death trap. I felt like a Looney Tunes character, what with all the stars I was seeing.
As my friend Allyson helpfully pointed out though, at least my latest face injury is not the worst. A few years back, I tripped on one of those enormous IKEA bags on the floor of my room (Seriously?! When will I learn to just keep my room clean?!) and skidded my face on the carpet. I had HUGE rug burns on the right side of my face. It was all scabby and gross. Gnarlesville. When I left my job at a magazine shortly afterwards, the staff made a mock up of an issue, with my mangled face on the cover, giving a big ol' thumbs up. I still keep it in my room because, well, it's pretty hysterical.
I suppose I can track all this crazy face-violence back to when I was about 5 years old. I was at the pool. My mom was wrangling us five kids to get home, but of course I was dawdling, eating ants or something. My mom said "Pharon! Come on! We're LEAVING!" She wrapped an enormous towel around me and I padded after her as fast as I could. Kids? There is a reason they tell you not to run at the pool. My bare feet were no match for the slippery cement, and, duh, I slipped. I crashed down, face-first on the cement. My arms were wrapped in my towel, so I just toppled over. I ripped up my chin, and I still have a teeny scar to prove it.
So, I guess in the grand scheme of all my facial mishaps, this latest one isn't so bad. There's no blood, no need for stitches. Nah, it's actually pretty minor. But frazzle! It hurt so freaky bad. It was the kind of pain that it takes like 3 full seconds to actually register in your brain.
Besides spending the night cleaning my room, I also chugged like 4 glasses of milk. A girl can't have too much calcium when she needs to keep her face bones strong. And despite the promises I make to myself to be more careful, there's no telling what kind of risk I run by boldly wearing high heels in Minnesota icy winters. Though, in hindsight, none of my facial boo-boos have had anything to do with wearing heels. In fact, it's almost like when I DON'T wear heels, I leave myself open to the perils that lurk at ground level. Mix that with my natural lack of grace and we've got an accident waiting to happen, folks.
Hopefully I got my annual Injury out of the way. I'd consider it a win for me if the worst thing I have to deal with is a cartoony bonk on the face. And, this might be a neural hematoma talking, but it was pretty funny.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
La-Z Girl
I’m actually nervous to be back at work tomorrow. I spent the last TWO WEEKS off, and I only used my alarm clock like twice to wake up. I’m petrified that I will not wake up on time. I’m scared that I won’t have any clean clothes to wear, or that I’ll forget my iPod or my phone or something. Tomorrow it’s back to our regularly scheduled program of work, deadlines, showering, and grown up conversations. Also, I’m still pretty sure most companies haven’t adopted a Mandatory Siesta yet, so my schedule of 3 little naps throughout the day will suffer greatly.
The glaringly obvious theme of my staycation was straight up Laziness. That's right, folks. The jig is up. I was that terrible four-letter word: LAZY. There were a couple days that I legitimately felt guilty for spending the whole day in pajamas. I had some pretty ambitious plans for myself that included things like cleaning my room, doing laundry, and reading a couple books. I didn’t do any of it. So, a couple people made the annoying comment, “Haven’t you DONE anything today?” I wanted to be like, “Yes, I’ve done exactly what I absolutely CAN’T do during a typical work week. I’ve relaxed and accomplished nothing.” Why does this behavior get such a bad wrap? Tell me, people!
Think about it. We work hard Monday-Friday, juggle a social life and mundane activities like grocery shopping, fixing up the house, and all crazzap, all while looking forward to weekends that we pack full of “fun“ things we don‘t have time for during the week. Who decided it was such a bad thing to spend our precious time off doing NOTHING? I mean, it’s not like I exactly NEGLECTED anything all that serious. Sure my room is a pigsty, and I decided to buy new socks instead of just doing laundry, but so what? I watched movies, slept past 9 a.m. every day, painted my nails, spent way too much time on websites like Failblog and TMZ, and just because I’ve done all that from the same spot on my couch, I’m like a pariah.
It definitely didn’t help that most of my friends were out of town, or worked all day when I did some of my best lounging. There were days that I met up with a friend for lunch or drinks, or went shopping or whatever, but at the end of the day, I just felt worse about spending too much money. There really aren’t that many cool things to do in Minnesota in the winter that don’t require a credit card and 20% tip. When it comes right down to it, I’m making an economically responsible decision to do things like eat spoonfuls of peanut butter rather than go out for a nice dinner.
I’m just kind of dreading going back to work and explaining to people that for almost 14 days straight, I had a daily internal battle as to whether or not I’d brush my teeth in the morning. Or that I watched the same HBO movie three times because there’s just nothing on TV at 1 in the afternoon. Crazy fun, right?!
I guess I don’t really care what other people think. To each her own, right? The only thing, though, is I had big plans to go to a buttload of matinees all week. I never get to go to daytime movies, so I really wanted to catch up on that. I didn’t go to ONE, though. Geo and I kept planning on seeing Black Swan, but some random thing always thwarted our daytime movie plans. From having to stay home and wait for our new oven and refrigerator to be delivered, to me sleeping in past the 12:20 movie start time, we just kept not going.
When is our next holiday? Flag Day? Do we get that off? If we do, I’m definitely going to go to a movie THAT day. Plan big, people. Well, wish me luck tomorrow. I’ve already got my Bus Bag packed with a new desk calendar, my iPod charger, and my new umbrella, and I have my lunch all ready to go. It feels like I’m going to my first day of school. I’ve even got new boots to wear. I hope you guys have a great Monday, and keep sending in your movie entries for the Cheesy Movie Contest!! I was going to finalize the awesome t-shirt design this week, but obviously I didn’t get around to it. Trust that it’ll be worth it though! Good luck this week, people. Get out there and make me proud.
The glaringly obvious theme of my staycation was straight up Laziness. That's right, folks. The jig is up. I was that terrible four-letter word: LAZY. There were a couple days that I legitimately felt guilty for spending the whole day in pajamas. I had some pretty ambitious plans for myself that included things like cleaning my room, doing laundry, and reading a couple books. I didn’t do any of it. So, a couple people made the annoying comment, “Haven’t you DONE anything today?” I wanted to be like, “Yes, I’ve done exactly what I absolutely CAN’T do during a typical work week. I’ve relaxed and accomplished nothing.” Why does this behavior get such a bad wrap? Tell me, people!
Think about it. We work hard Monday-Friday, juggle a social life and mundane activities like grocery shopping, fixing up the house, and all crazzap, all while looking forward to weekends that we pack full of “fun“ things we don‘t have time for during the week. Who decided it was such a bad thing to spend our precious time off doing NOTHING? I mean, it’s not like I exactly NEGLECTED anything all that serious. Sure my room is a pigsty, and I decided to buy new socks instead of just doing laundry, but so what? I watched movies, slept past 9 a.m. every day, painted my nails, spent way too much time on websites like Failblog and TMZ, and just because I’ve done all that from the same spot on my couch, I’m like a pariah.
It definitely didn’t help that most of my friends were out of town, or worked all day when I did some of my best lounging. There were days that I met up with a friend for lunch or drinks, or went shopping or whatever, but at the end of the day, I just felt worse about spending too much money. There really aren’t that many cool things to do in Minnesota in the winter that don’t require a credit card and 20% tip. When it comes right down to it, I’m making an economically responsible decision to do things like eat spoonfuls of peanut butter rather than go out for a nice dinner.
I’m just kind of dreading going back to work and explaining to people that for almost 14 days straight, I had a daily internal battle as to whether or not I’d brush my teeth in the morning. Or that I watched the same HBO movie three times because there’s just nothing on TV at 1 in the afternoon. Crazy fun, right?!
I guess I don’t really care what other people think. To each her own, right? The only thing, though, is I had big plans to go to a buttload of matinees all week. I never get to go to daytime movies, so I really wanted to catch up on that. I didn’t go to ONE, though. Geo and I kept planning on seeing Black Swan, but some random thing always thwarted our daytime movie plans. From having to stay home and wait for our new oven and refrigerator to be delivered, to me sleeping in past the 12:20 movie start time, we just kept not going.
When is our next holiday? Flag Day? Do we get that off? If we do, I’m definitely going to go to a movie THAT day. Plan big, people. Well, wish me luck tomorrow. I’ve already got my Bus Bag packed with a new desk calendar, my iPod charger, and my new umbrella, and I have my lunch all ready to go. It feels like I’m going to my first day of school. I’ve even got new boots to wear. I hope you guys have a great Monday, and keep sending in your movie entries for the Cheesy Movie Contest!! I was going to finalize the awesome t-shirt design this week, but obviously I didn’t get around to it. Trust that it’ll be worth it though! Good luck this week, people. Get out there and make me proud.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Snow Place Like Home
I don’t think I need to tell anyone that, well, it snowed a little bit in Minnesota on Saturday. And by “a little bit”, I of course mean that it is Armageddon. On Saturday morning, I made the very genius decision to go to the grocery store. By then it had only snowed about 12 out of the total 20 inches. I thought to myself, as I lay in bed with grumbling stomach, “Should I go to the grocery store NOW or LATER? The answer should have been “anorexia”. It was way too dangerous for me to be driving. All that crazy snow was blowing around like the inside of a Dyson vacuum. After the most treacherous 2 hours of my driving career, I pulled up at home to park in front of my house. I got stuck. I had to have Geo come outside and dig and push me into a spot.
As soon as I crawled my way up to my front door and dragged the groceries inside, I swore I wasn’t going back out there for the whole rest of the weekend. Unfortunately, I forgot that I had parked my car on the wrong side of the street, and hours later I was back outside, digging my car out AGAIN to move it to the other side so the plows could get through. It took a snowblower, 2 fully grown men, 2 shovels, and some creative driving, but I got out (also? All-Wheel Drive is a total lie. Total. Bold-faced. Lie). Then we dug out Sanna’s car, and our other neighbors truck, and some strangers car down the road. We hauled probably 100 tons of snow, but I believe I lost 5 pounds in sweat, so I guess that was okay.
Besides all the shoveling and shivering and tire-spinning, I just holed up in various different pairs of sweatpants all weekend. At one point, I asked Geo if it disturbed him that I had so many pairs of sweatpants, and that I just kept wearing different pairs. Luckily for everyone involved, he said it did not. But I mean, what else was I going to do? I couldn’t go out, nobody could come over, and I figured I may as well be warm.
I was, however, excited for the Vikings game today. Sanna came up with a couple extra tickets, and Geo and I were going to brave the snow to scream at people and cheer on our boys. Then this happened: Metrodome Roof Caves In. Needless to say, there was no game. But I luckily had a fresh pair of Vikings sweatpants to get me through all the naps.
Then, because I had gone through so much to get to the grocery store, I decided I’d just cook all weekend. Sweet potato fries, cornbread from scratch, cookies, and so much more. Instead, I found myself googling “Why won’t my oven turn on?” and “What is a pilot light”? And “How can I tell if I have renter’s insurance?” No oven + no clue how to turn on over + fear of blowing myself up so close to Christmas = sloppy joes and peanut butter sandwiches all weekend. Flurrrg.
But my God! I felt suffocated all weekend. I like to choose to be lazy. When the choice is taken away from me, I get a headache and start having thoughts like “I think I could look really good in bangs.” Luckily, our scissors were too dull from me using them to cut pizza and using them as a hammer.
Going to work tomorrow will be a mixed blessing, then. I’ll get out of this hellhole, yes. But I don’t think I’m allowed to wear sweatpants to work. Or CAN I? No, no I can't.
Ugh. Okay, well, if you have a heart, the least you guys could do is cheer on the Vikings tomorrow night when they play their rescheduled game in Detroit. Minnesota is hurtin’ pretty bad, and they have no home field anymore. And we really just need the pick-me-up before Round 2 of Doomsday hits us this week.
Well, stay safe and warm, everyone!
As soon as I crawled my way up to my front door and dragged the groceries inside, I swore I wasn’t going back out there for the whole rest of the weekend. Unfortunately, I forgot that I had parked my car on the wrong side of the street, and hours later I was back outside, digging my car out AGAIN to move it to the other side so the plows could get through. It took a snowblower, 2 fully grown men, 2 shovels, and some creative driving, but I got out (also? All-Wheel Drive is a total lie. Total. Bold-faced. Lie). Then we dug out Sanna’s car, and our other neighbors truck, and some strangers car down the road. We hauled probably 100 tons of snow, but I believe I lost 5 pounds in sweat, so I guess that was okay.
Besides all the shoveling and shivering and tire-spinning, I just holed up in various different pairs of sweatpants all weekend. At one point, I asked Geo if it disturbed him that I had so many pairs of sweatpants, and that I just kept wearing different pairs. Luckily for everyone involved, he said it did not. But I mean, what else was I going to do? I couldn’t go out, nobody could come over, and I figured I may as well be warm.
I was, however, excited for the Vikings game today. Sanna came up with a couple extra tickets, and Geo and I were going to brave the snow to scream at people and cheer on our boys. Then this happened: Metrodome Roof Caves In. Needless to say, there was no game. But I luckily had a fresh pair of Vikings sweatpants to get me through all the naps.
Then, because I had gone through so much to get to the grocery store, I decided I’d just cook all weekend. Sweet potato fries, cornbread from scratch, cookies, and so much more. Instead, I found myself googling “Why won’t my oven turn on?” and “What is a pilot light”? And “How can I tell if I have renter’s insurance?” No oven + no clue how to turn on over + fear of blowing myself up so close to Christmas = sloppy joes and peanut butter sandwiches all weekend. Flurrrg.
But my God! I felt suffocated all weekend. I like to choose to be lazy. When the choice is taken away from me, I get a headache and start having thoughts like “I think I could look really good in bangs.” Luckily, our scissors were too dull from me using them to cut pizza and using them as a hammer.
Going to work tomorrow will be a mixed blessing, then. I’ll get out of this hellhole, yes. But I don’t think I’m allowed to wear sweatpants to work. Or CAN I? No, no I can't.
Ugh. Okay, well, if you have a heart, the least you guys could do is cheer on the Vikings tomorrow night when they play their rescheduled game in Detroit. Minnesota is hurtin’ pretty bad, and they have no home field anymore. And we really just need the pick-me-up before Round 2 of Doomsday hits us this week.
Well, stay safe and warm, everyone!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Dream On
I don’t even want to TALK about Mossgate 2010. No longer do I have the hopes of bumping into Randy Moss at the gas station and striking up a conversation and then being asked to hang out with him at the mall. He’s gone. And much like the first time he left us, it just makes me sick. Stupid coach and his stupid terrible coaching…
But, I digress. Okay, so you know how nothing is more boring than listening to someone recap a dream? Well, last night, I had a crazy dream and I want to tell you about it. In my dream, I ran a marathon. Like, it was a weekend-long type thing. And I didn’t even break a sweat. Right before I finished the race, though, I got bored and went to wait on the corner for a girl (who I don’t even like) to come pick me up and take me swimming. So, when I woke up this morning, I was like "Whew! What a workout!" But I had been doing nothing but laying down. I think I was almost sore.
Has anyone ever done a study of whether or not dreaming about working out has any effect on someone in real life? I mean, sometimes when you dream, you work out problems in your head and you think clearer the next day. So, does working out in your dreams have the same effect? ‘Cause that would really rule. That seems like such a typical "American" thing to ask…"Is there a way to sleep while working out?" Basically, I want to know what I’d need to do to workout without actually DOING anything. Ideas? And don’t suggest yoga. Yoga scares me. I listened to a dude fart allllllll the way through a yoga class, and I just don’t have the kind of stamina to last a whole class without laughing at that.
I used to belong to the YMCA by my old apartment. It was pretty ghetto, and I loved that place. It was stinky, and nobody washed down machines, but it just felt right to me. There were frequently people working out in jeans, and for the most part people just kind of minded their own business. I rarely ever saw the kind of person who "gets ready" to go work out. I hated that more than anything at the gym I belonged to before the Y. It was a snooty, snobby person’s club. I did NOT fit in there. I will never, for the life of me, understand how a woman can work out with her hair down wearing big hoop earrings and expect to get anything accomplished on the treadmill. Or why a ginormous muscle-head would toddle around a weight room flexing and drinking creatine. Don’t these people have jobs? I like to put on sweats and a tank, pop in my headphones, and stare blankly at an issue of People from September 2004 and then get home.
What I really need is to find someone who is less or equally as coordinated as me to take a kickboxing class together. Something about all that punching and kicking just really appeals to me. I have no doubt I could be good at that. Though, I also assume I’d be very good at break dancing, so who knows?
I just know that the winter doldrums are already kicking in, and my whole house is as cold as it is outside. So, I’m going to need to get out of here and get into a place where I can sweat my butt off. The question remains though: Is that place in my bed while I sleep, or in front of a punching bag? Please say bed, please say bed, please say bed….
But, I digress. Okay, so you know how nothing is more boring than listening to someone recap a dream? Well, last night, I had a crazy dream and I want to tell you about it. In my dream, I ran a marathon. Like, it was a weekend-long type thing. And I didn’t even break a sweat. Right before I finished the race, though, I got bored and went to wait on the corner for a girl (who I don’t even like) to come pick me up and take me swimming. So, when I woke up this morning, I was like "Whew! What a workout!" But I had been doing nothing but laying down. I think I was almost sore.
Has anyone ever done a study of whether or not dreaming about working out has any effect on someone in real life? I mean, sometimes when you dream, you work out problems in your head and you think clearer the next day. So, does working out in your dreams have the same effect? ‘Cause that would really rule. That seems like such a typical "American" thing to ask…"Is there a way to sleep while working out?" Basically, I want to know what I’d need to do to workout without actually DOING anything. Ideas? And don’t suggest yoga. Yoga scares me. I listened to a dude fart allllllll the way through a yoga class, and I just don’t have the kind of stamina to last a whole class without laughing at that.
I used to belong to the YMCA by my old apartment. It was pretty ghetto, and I loved that place. It was stinky, and nobody washed down machines, but it just felt right to me. There were frequently people working out in jeans, and for the most part people just kind of minded their own business. I rarely ever saw the kind of person who "gets ready" to go work out. I hated that more than anything at the gym I belonged to before the Y. It was a snooty, snobby person’s club. I did NOT fit in there. I will never, for the life of me, understand how a woman can work out with her hair down wearing big hoop earrings and expect to get anything accomplished on the treadmill. Or why a ginormous muscle-head would toddle around a weight room flexing and drinking creatine. Don’t these people have jobs? I like to put on sweats and a tank, pop in my headphones, and stare blankly at an issue of People from September 2004 and then get home.
What I really need is to find someone who is less or equally as coordinated as me to take a kickboxing class together. Something about all that punching and kicking just really appeals to me. I have no doubt I could be good at that. Though, I also assume I’d be very good at break dancing, so who knows?
I just know that the winter doldrums are already kicking in, and my whole house is as cold as it is outside. So, I’m going to need to get out of here and get into a place where I can sweat my butt off. The question remains though: Is that place in my bed while I sleep, or in front of a punching bag? Please say bed, please say bed, please say bed….
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Randumb
Brace yourselves. I have no idea what's about to come out of this blog...I’ve truly outdone myself in way of the Procrastination Department. I have not done any of the following things I needed to do tonight: Laundry, cleaning my room, writing my blog, running a few errands, making a nice balanced dinner. Instead, I’m curled up on the couch, watching TV, drinking some wine, and eating left over giant cookie cake from Geo‘s birthday. My roommate Tina and I did run ONE errand: Trader Joe’s for some wine. Other than that, I’m a piece of blahhhhh tonight. This will really hurt me tomorrow morning when I wake up, trip over 12 pairs of shoes on my way to find something to wear to work. I loathe those mornings. And yet, still I do no laundry, I clean no room.
However, Tina and I have just had a wonderful idea. We were just talking about having babies. As in, how little we actually know about having babies. Yeah, we really don’t know very much at all. Turns out? It sounds pretty disgusting. So, we decided to have another glass of wine and try and watch a live birth. Neither of us has seen one before. And with the news of Prinna having another baby in April, I feel like, as a good aunt, I should really know a little more about this. Maybe as a woman I should know more about this…
Um, okay. So….check that off the list of things I shouldn’t have done tonight.
Thursday nights are just weird. It’s like thisclose to Friday, and I’m already ready to sleep until 11 a.m. tomorrow. I get bad ideas on Thursday nights. I’m so much more impressionable. Did you guys know that in some European countries the work week is only 32 hours long? That would mean I’d be done today. And then I’d have more time for the very European-y things I’d no doubt partake in. You know, eating some bread at a roadside bistro, not going to the dentist, wearing kicky hats, and complaining about the obnoxious yanks, things like that. Meh, I’d probably procrastinate on those things too.
I’ve gone way off topic. I’m not quite sure what the topic even is. I’ve lost focus. This is what I get for procrastinating and not thinking this blog through. Now, it’s just a random mish mash of things. Oh well, it’s basically the weekend anyway, so let’s just call it a day, shall we? Random or not, I hope you have a great weekend!
However, Tina and I have just had a wonderful idea. We were just talking about having babies. As in, how little we actually know about having babies. Yeah, we really don’t know very much at all. Turns out? It sounds pretty disgusting. So, we decided to have another glass of wine and try and watch a live birth. Neither of us has seen one before. And with the news of Prinna having another baby in April, I feel like, as a good aunt, I should really know a little more about this. Maybe as a woman I should know more about this…
Um, okay. So….check that off the list of things I shouldn’t have done tonight.
Thursday nights are just weird. It’s like thisclose to Friday, and I’m already ready to sleep until 11 a.m. tomorrow. I get bad ideas on Thursday nights. I’m so much more impressionable. Did you guys know that in some European countries the work week is only 32 hours long? That would mean I’d be done today. And then I’d have more time for the very European-y things I’d no doubt partake in. You know, eating some bread at a roadside bistro, not going to the dentist, wearing kicky hats, and complaining about the obnoxious yanks, things like that. Meh, I’d probably procrastinate on those things too.
I’ve gone way off topic. I’m not quite sure what the topic even is. I’ve lost focus. This is what I get for procrastinating and not thinking this blog through. Now, it’s just a random mish mash of things. Oh well, it’s basically the weekend anyway, so let’s just call it a day, shall we? Random or not, I hope you have a great weekend!
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Totally Outrageous Party-Filled Weekend…or not
I’m not entirely stoked to go back to work tomorrow. It’s been a great weekend, with fantastic weather, and hours upon hours of free time and I‘m pretty sad to see it go. My big project this weekend, though, was planning my niece Annabelle’s 5th Birthday party. It was sort of a surprise party, because Prinna gave me the theme and Annabelle knew there was a party. But, for a 5 year old, walking into a house fully decorated and full of people is as surprised as you want to get. I thought there was a 50% chance she’d freak out when we all yelled “SURPRISE!” and start crying. Luckily that didn’t happen.
I love planning parties. I love decorating, buying supplies, adding little touches that no one notices but really pull everything together. Give me a budget, or better yet no budget at all, and I can plan the crap out of a party. For Annabelle’s, the theme was Fancy Nancy. It’s a children’s picture book about a little girl who likes everything to be sparkly, feathery, and well, Fancy. So, natch my mom and I bombarded Prinna’s house with feathers, glitter, balloons, and bright colors. My other niece Rachel and I made 2 gigantic banners that said “OOH LA LA” and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY FANCY ANNABELLE”! We dressed Annabelle up in a sparkly tutu, glitter make up, a tiara, and beads. She looked hilarious. I mean, adorable.
Now I’m just totally wiped out though. All that sugar, all that activity, and all those people just wore me out. I feel like I’m 100 years old and just got back from performing at a circus. Plus, kids parties are not good ideas for someone watching her girlish figure. Oh well, it was totally worth it.
Between the party planning with my mom, I spent my weekend doing nothing. I accomplished painting my nails, but then took a nap while they were still a bit wet and now have sheet marks on them. Accomplishment Fail. I slept on the couch one night because the house was empty and I was scared to be upstairs in a desolate house. Grown-Up Fail. I picked up my dirty purse from the dry cleaners. Pilgrim Cleaners Fail. And I had big plans of throwing a September-themed party at my house on Sunday night, but instead watched Star Wars while Geo slept on the couch next to me. Social Life Fail. Adding these all up would lead some people to think that this weekend was a failure. But sleeping late, enjoying my coffee on the porch during the beautiful mornings, catching up on DVR’d TV, and planning an adorably fun party are major successes in my book.
Labor Day: thanks for memories, pal. You were a welcome break that I shall remember fondly until Thanksgiving. My determination to spend this weekend not laboring was a beautiful success, and if I weren’t so exhausted from eating cupcakes, I’d pat myself on the back. And now, back to our regularly scheduled work week…
I love planning parties. I love decorating, buying supplies, adding little touches that no one notices but really pull everything together. Give me a budget, or better yet no budget at all, and I can plan the crap out of a party. For Annabelle’s, the theme was Fancy Nancy. It’s a children’s picture book about a little girl who likes everything to be sparkly, feathery, and well, Fancy. So, natch my mom and I bombarded Prinna’s house with feathers, glitter, balloons, and bright colors. My other niece Rachel and I made 2 gigantic banners that said “OOH LA LA” and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY FANCY ANNABELLE”! We dressed Annabelle up in a sparkly tutu, glitter make up, a tiara, and beads. She looked hilarious. I mean, adorable.
Now I’m just totally wiped out though. All that sugar, all that activity, and all those people just wore me out. I feel like I’m 100 years old and just got back from performing at a circus. Plus, kids parties are not good ideas for someone watching her girlish figure. Oh well, it was totally worth it.
Between the party planning with my mom, I spent my weekend doing nothing. I accomplished painting my nails, but then took a nap while they were still a bit wet and now have sheet marks on them. Accomplishment Fail. I slept on the couch one night because the house was empty and I was scared to be upstairs in a desolate house. Grown-Up Fail. I picked up my dirty purse from the dry cleaners. Pilgrim Cleaners Fail. And I had big plans of throwing a September-themed party at my house on Sunday night, but instead watched Star Wars while Geo slept on the couch next to me. Social Life Fail. Adding these all up would lead some people to think that this weekend was a failure. But sleeping late, enjoying my coffee on the porch during the beautiful mornings, catching up on DVR’d TV, and planning an adorably fun party are major successes in my book.
Labor Day: thanks for memories, pal. You were a welcome break that I shall remember fondly until Thanksgiving. My determination to spend this weekend not laboring was a beautiful success, and if I weren’t so exhausted from eating cupcakes, I’d pat myself on the back. And now, back to our regularly scheduled work week…
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Wednesday Winner
This Wednesday’s Winner is a toughie. I was stressed out all week, and I was just not a happy camper most days. I was not a fun person to be with. Geo did the best he could, and my girl friends gave 110%, but not even the proposition of a Happy Hour with Lana and Valerie could save my sour week, and Happy Hours ALWAYS cheer me up. Anyway, so I decided that this week, my Wednesday Winner is:
Yes people, my couch. My couch and I had a pretty steamy affair this week. We were inseparable. We ate together, we took a nap together, and Couch didn’t judge me when I watched a Lifetime movie marathon. I spilled some pink Crystal Light on it, and it washed right off. It was so forgiving.
This couch is an awesome couch. I bought it, along with it’s loveseat partner, 4 years ago with Perek and Mitch. We actually went shopping and picked them out together. Our first big decision as roommates, and it was a huge success. While I’m not exactly stoked about the taupe-y, brownie color, it’s stayed in excellent condition. Tens of thousands of houseguests have crashed on the couches, and still they hold their form. That reliability really came in handy this week.
So, Couch and I have been pretty tight this week. We’ve rekindled the love we haven’t shared since my pounding headache on New Years Day. Couch has seen me on my worst days. This week, it supported me when I kicked my stilettos off after work and plopped my feet up on it’s cushiony goodness, and held me up during the rough Vikings game.
It’s all I can think about at work, sometimes. Coming home after a very long, rough day at work and seeing that lovely Couch Face just made me smile this week. The pillows said to me “Come, Pharon, lay down your head and let me hear about your day.” The blanket asked me “What can I do to make you comfortable? I’ll go anywhere you want me to go.“ And the cushions whispered, “Oh, Pharon, I love you. You’re the best. Have you lost weight? You feel like you’ve lost weight. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll love you no matter what.” What a great friend Couch has been to me.
However, as difficult as it may be, I am realizing that I may need to take a little break from Couch. I’ve become too dependent. We’re becoming “that couple” who do everything together, and are rarely without one another. Sure it’s nice to have that one thing that you can really rely on, but one of these days, I’ll need to stand on my own two feet. But because of all it’s help and the time we spent together this week, I declare My Couch the Wednesday Winner. This week, there IS a prize. I have every intention of cleaning and vacuuming it after all it’s hard work. Who knows? Maybe I’ll buy it some new pillows to spruce it up. Well, as long as the pillows are super comfortable, and know what they’re in for.
Congrats, Couch!
Yes people, my couch. My couch and I had a pretty steamy affair this week. We were inseparable. We ate together, we took a nap together, and Couch didn’t judge me when I watched a Lifetime movie marathon. I spilled some pink Crystal Light on it, and it washed right off. It was so forgiving.
This couch is an awesome couch. I bought it, along with it’s loveseat partner, 4 years ago with Perek and Mitch. We actually went shopping and picked them out together. Our first big decision as roommates, and it was a huge success. While I’m not exactly stoked about the taupe-y, brownie color, it’s stayed in excellent condition. Tens of thousands of houseguests have crashed on the couches, and still they hold their form. That reliability really came in handy this week.
So, Couch and I have been pretty tight this week. We’ve rekindled the love we haven’t shared since my pounding headache on New Years Day. Couch has seen me on my worst days. This week, it supported me when I kicked my stilettos off after work and plopped my feet up on it’s cushiony goodness, and held me up during the rough Vikings game.
It’s all I can think about at work, sometimes. Coming home after a very long, rough day at work and seeing that lovely Couch Face just made me smile this week. The pillows said to me “Come, Pharon, lay down your head and let me hear about your day.” The blanket asked me “What can I do to make you comfortable? I’ll go anywhere you want me to go.“ And the cushions whispered, “Oh, Pharon, I love you. You’re the best. Have you lost weight? You feel like you’ve lost weight. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll love you no matter what.” What a great friend Couch has been to me.
However, as difficult as it may be, I am realizing that I may need to take a little break from Couch. I’ve become too dependent. We’re becoming “that couple” who do everything together, and are rarely without one another. Sure it’s nice to have that one thing that you can really rely on, but one of these days, I’ll need to stand on my own two feet. But because of all it’s help and the time we spent together this week, I declare My Couch the Wednesday Winner. This week, there IS a prize. I have every intention of cleaning and vacuuming it after all it’s hard work. Who knows? Maybe I’ll buy it some new pillows to spruce it up. Well, as long as the pillows are super comfortable, and know what they’re in for.
Congrats, Couch!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
P.T.Oh Yeah!
Here’s the difference between me and Sanna. I came home from Book Club tonight, and she says, “Did you know it’s only 6 hours from here to Iceland?” No, Sanna. No, I did NOT know that. “I’m thinking about going there to do some farming sometime.”
There is a strong possibility that she’ll do this, too. I, on the other hand, would NOT do this. I’m not exactly the “drop-everything-and-go-to-a-foreign-country” kind of girl. I am having a hard enough time deciding on what to do around here for the next two days. That’s right, folks. I’m officially taking my first two days off of the year! The world is my oyster. The possibilities are endless.
Example: Apparently there are all kinds of strange, melodramas on TV during the day. Soap operas, I believe they’re called. I’m thinking of maybe checking those out. I’ve also been curious to see what goes on inside Target during the weekdays. Instead of eating lunch at my desk in front of a computer, I might consider venturing out on the porch for a little picnic. And bring my computer. You know, get some stuff done.
Geo threw around a lot of ideas like “kayaking” and something called “going for a walk around the lakes”, so I may have to indulge him and participate in those things. But I’m mostly just looking forward to the sleep. That, however, brings more stress. Do I sleep in and enjoy it? Or do I wake up early and seize the day? Blurg, this is already harder than I thought.
Come to think of it, I have no business taking days off if I don’t even know what to do with them. I think I might actually be nervous. It is entirely possible that I could completely waste these days. What if I sleep until noon, watch TV until 5, and then have nothing to show for a whole two days spent away from work? I mean, yes, that does sound like a pretty ideal day for me. But having to tell everyone that THAT’S what my days off consisted of will only invite disparaging remarks like “Oh, but it was so nice out!” or “Can’t you just sleep during the weekend?” But these people would be, what I like to call, jerks.
But, because I’m such a people-pleaser, I suppose I’ll have to get out and enjoy the so-called beautiful weather. I’ll force myself to spend the hours upon hours of free time I have meandering around Uptown and popping in and out of shops, without worrying that they might be closing in the next 20 minutes. If I must, I must.
Or, hey, I might just jet off to Iceland. Word is, it’s only a 6-hour flight.
There is a strong possibility that she’ll do this, too. I, on the other hand, would NOT do this. I’m not exactly the “drop-everything-and-go-to-a-foreign-country” kind of girl. I am having a hard enough time deciding on what to do around here for the next two days. That’s right, folks. I’m officially taking my first two days off of the year! The world is my oyster. The possibilities are endless.
Example: Apparently there are all kinds of strange, melodramas on TV during the day. Soap operas, I believe they’re called. I’m thinking of maybe checking those out. I’ve also been curious to see what goes on inside Target during the weekdays. Instead of eating lunch at my desk in front of a computer, I might consider venturing out on the porch for a little picnic. And bring my computer. You know, get some stuff done.
Geo threw around a lot of ideas like “kayaking” and something called “going for a walk around the lakes”, so I may have to indulge him and participate in those things. But I’m mostly just looking forward to the sleep. That, however, brings more stress. Do I sleep in and enjoy it? Or do I wake up early and seize the day? Blurg, this is already harder than I thought.
Come to think of it, I have no business taking days off if I don’t even know what to do with them. I think I might actually be nervous. It is entirely possible that I could completely waste these days. What if I sleep until noon, watch TV until 5, and then have nothing to show for a whole two days spent away from work? I mean, yes, that does sound like a pretty ideal day for me. But having to tell everyone that THAT’S what my days off consisted of will only invite disparaging remarks like “Oh, but it was so nice out!” or “Can’t you just sleep during the weekend?” But these people would be, what I like to call, jerks.
But, because I’m such a people-pleaser, I suppose I’ll have to get out and enjoy the so-called beautiful weather. I’ll force myself to spend the hours upon hours of free time I have meandering around Uptown and popping in and out of shops, without worrying that they might be closing in the next 20 minutes. If I must, I must.
Or, hey, I might just jet off to Iceland. Word is, it’s only a 6-hour flight.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Nullabye
I am NOT a good napper. There are days that all I can think of is drifting off for a quick nap, maybe enjoying a short dream, and waking up refreshed. But the reality is this. If I’m tired enough to fall asleep during the day, it ain’t gonna be pretty.
Typically, I’ll nod off on the couch while sitting up, head thrown back, mouth wide open, and snoring. Snoring in a way that can only be described as, well, unladylike. And when I wake up, there’s no content smile, a cat-like stretch and a dewy, glowing face. No. I wake up horribly confused, unaware of what time it is, with mascara smeared down one side of my face and pillow marks denting my cheeks. And I’m cranky.
Apparently, this is nothing new. I asked my mom today if she remembers me being a good napper when I was a baby. First, she laughed pretty hard. Then she said, "No. I don't remember you ever napping. You always got by on minimal sleep." My poor parents. I was the 4th out of 5 kids and never napped? I was never quiet and calm enough to just lay down and give my parents a break? Well, what a treat I must have been...
I feel like a disappointment in a way. I come from a long line of professional nappers. My mom can close her eyes for 10 minutes, wake up immediately, and re-wallpaper a bathroom. My sisters are exactly the same. My dad is like a soldier. His eyes are closed, he may let out a deep snore, but his foot is constantly tapping to the music on the TV. He‘s pretty much existing in two conscious states at once. We have a picture of my older brother sleeping while he‘s standing up when he was an actual soldier in the Army. Seriously. Standing Up. And we’ve got a million pictures of my little brother napping in places like under a bed and on a stair. They're among the elite leaders of the world who just get it. (Smart People Nap)
As I write this, I’m fighting back the yawns. There’s a cool breeze in the room, I’ve got my perfect Nap Blanket (a very light, small, down blanket) across my lap, and the room is just starting to get dark. It’s too early to call it a night, and it’s definitely too late for an hour-long nap. And this might be the sleepiness talking, but I’m pretty sure this is the most exhausting catch-22 in the history of time. Life can be so cruel.
Typically, I’ll nod off on the couch while sitting up, head thrown back, mouth wide open, and snoring. Snoring in a way that can only be described as, well, unladylike. And when I wake up, there’s no content smile, a cat-like stretch and a dewy, glowing face. No. I wake up horribly confused, unaware of what time it is, with mascara smeared down one side of my face and pillow marks denting my cheeks. And I’m cranky.
Apparently, this is nothing new. I asked my mom today if she remembers me being a good napper when I was a baby. First, she laughed pretty hard. Then she said, "No. I don't remember you ever napping. You always got by on minimal sleep." My poor parents. I was the 4th out of 5 kids and never napped? I was never quiet and calm enough to just lay down and give my parents a break? Well, what a treat I must have been...
I feel like a disappointment in a way. I come from a long line of professional nappers. My mom can close her eyes for 10 minutes, wake up immediately, and re-wallpaper a bathroom. My sisters are exactly the same. My dad is like a soldier. His eyes are closed, he may let out a deep snore, but his foot is constantly tapping to the music on the TV. He‘s pretty much existing in two conscious states at once. We have a picture of my older brother sleeping while he‘s standing up when he was an actual soldier in the Army. Seriously. Standing Up. And we’ve got a million pictures of my little brother napping in places like under a bed and on a stair. They're among the elite leaders of the world who just get it. (Smart People Nap)
As I write this, I’m fighting back the yawns. There’s a cool breeze in the room, I’ve got my perfect Nap Blanket (a very light, small, down blanket) across my lap, and the room is just starting to get dark. It’s too early to call it a night, and it’s definitely too late for an hour-long nap. And this might be the sleepiness talking, but I’m pretty sure this is the most exhausting catch-22 in the history of time. Life can be so cruel.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)