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18 Jun 2009

Some people have sex dreams. Steamy dreams involving

Hollywood heartthrobs

ripped athletes or

gorgeous male supermodels.

I dream about

Yes, I dream about Oompa Loompas.

More specifically I had a dream last night where I started running the Disneyland half marathon in a cute pink skirt and top combo which was perfect with my Heidi Klum body and luscious blond hair (I am a proud brunette). I ended the race as Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate factory and it took six Oompa Loompas to roll me across the finish line.


22 Feb 2009

I would like to send out a big shout to the makers of Dreyer’s ice cream. Last night I ran into the local 7-11 after my workout desperate for water and mistakenly passed the freezer section. This little gem


called to me like a dockside hooker beckons sailors. Like so many sea-faring men before me I crumpled to it’s mysterious green charms.

And like many before me I was filled with regret and worry as I moved to get on the scale this morning. It took me an entire week to lose half a pound (don’t sing me that “gaining muscle” song I’m trying to dump my spare tire dammit!). I thought for sure I’d gained it back and I was seriously considering enveloping myself in the other half pint for consolation.

Instead I lost ANOTHER half pound. HZ is at her goal and I’m three pounds heavier.

I laughed uproariously (perhaps with a slightly wild and hysterical edge although I’d never admit it). And then ceremoniously walked the other half pint to the dumpster outside where even I, in my most desperate mint chocolate brownie moment would not stoop to dive.

Does this shit happen to anyone else?

18 Feb 2009

I went to the gym today.

Gorgeous isn’t it? Doesn’t it just look clean and lovely and make you want to go workout? This isn’t a gym it’s a health palace.

Too bad it’s not my health palace.

My gym looks more like:

Okay granted I took the picture while walking on the treadmill but it’s not too much of a stretch, blurring and all.

Why you ask?

Because the one picture I did NOT take was one of the guy next to me. The Walking Bog of Stench.

He reeked of stale cigarettes (like the smell was in his pores or something). AND He was wearing 4 layers of clothes in an effort to sweat off his weight. (It must have been working because there was a steam cloud of perspiration around him).

Thus the label of the bog of stench.

But I triumphed baby. Text I sent HZ at 6:01pm: “I’m not leaving until he does. I will not allow the bog of stench to defeat me.”

Thankfully he scuttled away about 20 mins into my 45 minute treadmill routine and oh GLORIOUS OXYGEN! And I am so proud of myself because let me tell you every fiber of my being was telling me to just say screw it and leave. But I toughed it out!

Let me just say that I will NEVER go to the world’s tiniest 24 hour fitness at 5:30pm ever again. Every cardio machine was taken. EVERY SINGLE ONE. and there was still a line of 2o people waiting for available machines. Crazy!

In the meantime I am certain that somewhere David Bowie is laughing at my pain.

For those of you who missed The Labyrinth movie reference you can also click HERE. It is 100% 80s muppet craziness.
9 Feb 2009

I had a houseguest this weekend. Now, under the best of circumstances I am a really crappy hostess. I am not a big entertainer so if you’ve made it to my house it’s because we are friends on some level. I further assume you must like me to put yourself at my hostessing mercy for a set amount of time. And I figure you know from my tshirt and jeans personality that I’m not about to pull on an apron and offer you homemade petit fours.

The rules at my house:

1) You want a beverage head for the fridge. You are free to consume anything in there and if you need a glass I expect you to forage in the cabinets. If you expect me to remember to ask you if you want anything you’re going to be waiting a really long time. I’m not intentionally rude it just doesn’t occur to me.

2) Food. I will offer what I have. You will not like it. I will take you to my favorite restaurant nearby which you will love because they have something for everyone. Plus, I will probably pay for both of us since I very rarely have houseguests. If you’re staying for more then one meal I will then drag you down all the aisles of the grocery store until we have enough stuff for your dining/snacking/drinking pleasure for the duration of your stay.

3) Shampoo/toothpaste/q-tips and other shit we all forget to pack when going away for a night or two. I have plenty of everything, feel free to use it. No, you don’t have to ask. No I am not offended if you raid my cabinets.

4) Your bed is clean because I wash it after every guest. I will however, forget to give you towels, so again feel free to raid the cabinet in the bathroom. Yes there are tons of towels. Pick a color, any color.

That’s it. The very simple rules. I’m a simple girl and as my friend you should know that and it shouldn’t surprise you.

That being said I’d like to finish up this post with things I wish I’d said to my guest this weekend.

1) When I told you “I have English muffins, eggs/whites and kraft singles, I’d be happy to make you an egg mcmuffin in the morning” and you answered “Oh my God that is SO MUCH FOOD!!!” Clearly I’m a fat chick so I don’t understand anorexia. Was it the Kraft single?

2) When we were at our workshop on day two with 48 other people and enough food to feed 150. I took a second mini-muffin and you said “*gasp* you’re taking TWO?” like I was depriving orphans of food. Should I have cut the second mini muffin in half?

And that was just a snippet. It was a pretty crazy weekend. I am SO glad it is over.

P.S. My blisters are FINALLY healed. I’m taking today off and tomorrow I’m back in action. WOOT!

Taken from Wikipedia:

 The DEFense readiness CONdition (DEFCON) is a measure of the activation and readiness level of the United States Armed Forces. It describes progressive postures for use between the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the commanders of unified commands. DEFCONs are matched to the situations of military severity. Standard peacetime protocol is DEFCON 5, descending in increasingly severe situations. DEFCON 1 represents expectation of actual imminent attack, and is not known to have ever been declared.

Let me tell you, the Surf City half marathon was about to see me go Defcon 1. Why you ask? Because after the race was over we were all told to look up our results online. Well, I looked mine up from the minute I got home Sunday and never got them. It was really sad seeing my name with all those blanks after it.

But then I thought, hey, I was one of the last hundred or so people to finish so they’d probably get to me late. Except everyone I spoke to on my walk was listed. *insert confused face*

So I emailed them Sunday night. No reponse.

I emailed them again today (because they ask for a 48 hour window):

I’m guessing since I haven’t received a response that there was some sort
of tag malfunction. I would still like my info posted since this is my
first ever race and I’d really like to brag to my friends. Although I don’t
know my starting time I know I passed the 3 mile marker and the 8 mile
marker alongside X I then moved forward around the
8.5 mile point and walked the rest of the course with Y.
I apologize for being a bother, thank you for understanding.

Their response?

Where did you send your first inquiry to? This is the first one I have seen
for your bib number. Did you have the d tag on your shoe in the shape of a
d? Did the chip get bent or damaged in any way? Let me know. Thanks

Call me paranoid but I read that as “um, who are you? we have no record of you.”

And unlike at the actual half marathon here I was at home sitting in my chair wondering if I was going to hyperventilate. Fortunately they came up with:

Race Results
Overall: 10680 out of 10783
Women: 6445 out of 6531
Age/Grade: 26.31% Place: 10705

I have never been so damn happy to be in the 26% percentile in my life. Seriously.

I happily await my magical medal of awesomeness.

13 Nov 2008

Okay yes, that image has nothing to do with this blog post, it was just totally gratuitous. You’re welcome.

My run today was quite jubilant as you might imagine. I am gleefully…yeah okay screw it.

So I ran. The good news is it was pretty decent. I didn’t feel like hell or anything. The bad news is I ran on a nature trail that a number of ambitious dog owners frequent with their fidos and rovers and all manner of other doggy creatures. Now normally this is a good thing (remember my blog about being a dog stalker), today notsomuch. I ran my podcast and was happily cooling down when a golden lab ran up to me and tried to sniff my ass. Kind of…awkward.

What was even stranger was that the dog didn’t have a collar or an owner either. And it kept trying to sniff my ass. Now I’ve been sniffed in other private places by dogs, I get that. But the ass was a new one.

**stop reading here if you’re of a particularly delicate constitution**

Okay let me tell you what I learned today. If a dog madly starts sniffing your ass one of two things happen.

1) You get freaked out a bit

2) You start to wonder if there might be a legitimate reason why the dog would be sniffing your hindquarters. Madly sniffing. I tell you it totally freaked me out. I mean, it didn’t feel like anything was wrong, ya know? 

**resume reading here**

Fido turned out to be Bailey, a beautiful and spunky two year old Golden Lab. He was identified by another dog walker as a dog path regular who is genius enough to jailbreak often and head for the nature trail. Brilliant! It ALSO turned out that Bailey was trained by an equally brilliant dog trainer who believes that good pets are taught with tasty rewards. Rewards like hot dog bits and other delightful treats. And all those treats?



wait for it…



wait for it…



All those treats are stored in a fanny pack.

Even after I got him home he wouldn’t stop sniffing my ass/fanny pack. I finally had to take it off and open it to show him there was no doggy treasure in there. Have you ever seen an otherwise total stranger of a dog look at you with an expression of total betrayal on his face?

Thus the need for Bondage-type inspiration. Incidentally, I will not be running nature trails in the near future.

How sad is it that I still feel guilty?