Thursday, January 31, 2013

Ten Things Thursday!!

1 – I got a scam diet email the other day and the subject line read, “How’s that NY’s resolution working out for you?” – which clearly assumes I’m failing and I suck at keeping whatever my NY resolution was. Normally I delete such reedick-ulous-ness BUT I couldn’t resist so I emailed them back and said, “Pretty f*cking great, spank you very much. I’m the epitome of health since January 1st, you asshat. Well, minus that one tiny little Starburst binge.”

2 – When I was working out downstairs the other night, Banana found a spider on the ceiling and went dramatically nutso (I have no idea where she gets that.) I told her to go get her Dad to save her from the terrifying tiny spider because Mama wasn’t getting off the treadmill. She went and got him and I figured he’d tell her to calm down and that’d be it.

Next thing you know – here he comes – being dragged by her little hand and he kills the spider. She says, “Daddy, you’re my hero.” They went back upstairs and I thought to myself – THAT – was just the definition of a father. A spider killer. A hero. Every single little girl or boy on Earth deserves that kind of faith and trust in their Dad. It’s a simple spider killing – but not so simple to the girl on the treadmill who never had that for herself.

3 – You guys are never going to believe this but I think Podunk has something that big cities have already. It’s called FOD – Fitness On Demand. Have you ever heard of it? I guess it’s the newest, latest trend for gyms. It’s kind of a computer-y thing on the outside wall of a room and it allows you to pick from TONS of types of workouts. Yoga, abs, light, medium, heavy, zumba, and duration and instructor and everything. You punch in what you want – walk in the room – a big screen lowers – and viola! Instant fitness of any kind on demand. No waiting for instructors. No extra cost. Kind of cool, huh?

4 – I can’t stop eating Starbursts. I cannot wait until the mother heifers are all gone. And no – I cannot simply give them away or throw them away. I cannot even believe you’d suggest such a thing.

5 – Do any of you watch Jerseylicious? Um. I’m addicted. The higher the hair, the closer you are to Heaven. Enough said.

6 – Rambo weighed in today. He lost 10.5 pounds in January! I told him when he hit his first 10 pounds, he’d get a reward. And dammit, now I have to follow through on that. No – I will not tell you what the reward is. This is a family show. Kind of.

7 – My kids are old enough now that they don’t really have enough toys to warrant having a toy box anymore. I’m not sure whether to be happy or cry about that. They are also old enough to know if our door is closed, we are probably doing the horizontal mombo and knowing that they know that drives me crazy. They are old enough to know what it is and therefore, we have to be careful. I am absolutely positive I want to cry about this. It sucks donkey balls.

8 – I have to work a full 8 hours this Saturday doing an audit for one of the PT jobs. I have to be in a room with 2 auditors (aka stranger danger) for a whole day. I’m covered in hives just typing that. Jesus Cripes (that’s the son of Gosh by the way) – why must I be tortured so? Thank God they pay me out the ass to do such a thing. It is the only consolation. Dreaming of the mounds of shoes I can buy with that money.

9 – For the first time in my life, I need a new car but I don’t want a new car. Cars are dumb. I mean they are necessary to get me where I want to go but I’m so over paying for them. I used to think I had to have a brand new SUV because it’s a status symbol in our town and I was a follower but now? Dumb. I seriously want to drive my current SUV until it dies. I’ve owned it longer than any other car I’ve ever had because I usually trade often…until my mindset changed and I cared less about cars. Rambo – being the annoyingly over-caring husband that he is - says I either have to get new tires or get a new car. Ugh. I want neither.

10 – Valentine’s Day is coming and Rambo already has my present because he won’t shut up about it. He’s such a child when it comes to gifts. He runs around singing, “I got your gift already.” So now I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to get the boy. I mean there’s the ‘ol standy gifts – like lingerie and stuff – but I want something unique and fun and special. The man deserves gold on a platter. He called me skinny last night when I jumped into bed. I may or may not have cried like a baby. Don’t judge. Just give me some cool ideas, mkay?  (Please do not tell me to buy a star and name it after him.)

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

I'm in love with Wendy.

Have you guys heard of Wendy? 

She's a famous Weight Watcher chick-a-rooni. 

Let me tell you about Wendy just in case I'm confusing the hell out of you (God knows I never do that.).

Everyone knows that on Weight Watcher's, you have a points limit that you eat towards daily. 

There's this little known secret on WW called Wendy's Plan.  You can google the exact details of the plan but I'll summarize.  Let's say your WW daily points value is 25.  Miss Wendy would say that you need to change things up and trick your body by eating 25 points for 2 days, then maybe 20 points for 1 day and then go up to 30 points the next day.  The point is to not stay at 25 every single day. 

The theory is that your body will think you are withholding food from it if you stay at the same calorie range every single day and it will hold on to the weight UNLESS all of a sudden you overfeed it just a bit.

Some people SWEAR by Wendy's plan. 

I never f*cking swear at I'm not sure about Miss Wendy.

However.....a few years ago when I did the BFL (Body For Life) plan...he sort of has the same principle. 

Let me say this.  I *never* followed the BFL eating plan.  NOT AT ALL.  I followed his workout plan to a T.  For 10 weeks, I never swayed once from the workout plan.  I had detailed workout sheets and documentation and it got me to goal weight fast.  I had never felt better. 

Again though - for me - the workouts allowed me to eat pretty much whatever I wanted.  I mean I didn't eat crap but I ate more than I should have.  I followed ONE part of his diet plan and that was to have one cheat day a week.  One day a week literally anything you wanted to eat was considered okay. 

I sure as hell did that.  I mean heck.  Sorry.  There's that damn swearing again. 

I took that cheat day and went nuts, yet I always lost weight every week. 

Hmmm....this body trickery stuff Mr. BFL and Miss Wendy have got going on may just work.

I have another point to make here. 

It is that blogging ruins everything.  It is a massive jinx for those of you who didn't know.

Case in point - do you guys remember me bragging yesterday about how I had literally stayed within my calorie range every day of this year and that Starburst were all I needed for a treat?

One of you should have yelled bullshit on that one.  I mean bull crap.

Yah.  Wanna know how many Starbursts I ate yesterday? 

I can't tell you - because I lost count.

I remember picking up my 7th one and literally out loud in my office, I said to myself, "Self - this is called a binge because you can't stop even if you wanted to."  And then I promptly ate at least a dozen more.

Gosh darn damn you brag blogging.  Gosh darn you. 

Then I felt sick.  Shocker, huh?  Then I realized I'm either a none at all or eat the whole bag of candy kind of girl.  I can't have a whole bag in my desk drawer and some day not lose all control and binge on it.

And yes, that realization sucks donkey balls.

With that said, I still managed to stay under 2000 calories somehow.  Because of the binge, I said the hell with it and didn't work out either.  And I felt sick remember?

So I overeat for the first time in 29 days by going over by 800 calories and I don't work out and today - I dropped another 1.5 pounds to my lowest of the year. 

WHAT THE F*CK?  Oh shit, I forgot I don't swear again.

This is lame-o folks.  Just lame-o. 

Who the hell do Mr. BFL and Miss Wendy think they are? 

Experts or something?

The morale of the story is:  Never brag blog.  It'll backfire on your ass.  I mean butt


Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Operation "Kick Sheniqua's Ass" Update

Time for my weekly fitness/weight loss recap.

Sheniqua (the name I’ve given my “love handles”) hates Tuesdays because these Tuesday weigh-ins and updates just make it official that she’s slowly getting smaller and smaller. Dare I say that Drazil, my lovely inner demon, may be on his way out too. Only time will tell.

Okay, let’s get started.

I lost another pound this week!!

That makes 6.5 for the year so far and only 24.5 left to go to goal! I’m almost positive the loss is more than that because my legs are seriously sore from all the working out and I’m sure they’re holding water.

For the year, I’ve logged just about 54 miles and have 24 workouts in. Lately I’ve been getting back to doing more running than walking and started doing sprint work again. Against all reason, I have even gotten on the mother heifer machine from Satan regularly…the elliptical.

My food has been on point and planned out like nobody’s business. On Sunday nights, Rambo and I pretend we’re chefs and make an assembly line of 10 containers. I make the chicken and rice while he makes veggies and gravy. When it’s all done we measure and weigh the chicken, rice, and gravy and make each container a 300 calorie meal for lunch each day.

I’m back into eating hard boiled eggs and cottage cheese for breakfast protein. Starbursts are still working to fill my chocolate cravings after a meal. Fruits like raspberries, apples and pineapples are the only things I snack on.

When we go out to eat, we do the best we can….like instead of eating and ordering a large fry each – we share just one and order waters. It’s amazing how easy it can be if we make that choice and stick with it and do it together.

Speaking of doing it together, Rambo is kicking ass and taking names too. Even after full days of manual labor hauling hogs and washing the entire semi trailer – he still comes home and does the elliptical and lifts weights. He’s 1 pound away from having lost 10 pounds and I’m so proud of him.

I’m actually having a hard time getting enough calories in. I know that sounds completely assanine. The thing is that I’m eating a lot of protein so I’m not exactly hungry and the snacks I eat are low calorie. I’m not starving myself at all. I’m eating 3 meals and 2 snacks a day and I even added in ½ can of Mt. Dew in my day as a treat now that I know it’s not an addiction anymore.

I should probably eat after my workout but I’m usually drenched in sweat and exhausted and the last thing I want to do is eat. I’ll figure it out.

I’m just shocked I haven’t had any full on binges yet. I mean every single day of this year has been healthy and on calorie point. That’s shocking. Just freaking shocking.
Maybe the old athlete in me is still in there, huh?

Remember how our neighbors worked out with us each night? The husband worked out with Rambo and the wife worked out with me? Last week the girl called and said she needed a break. In her second week, she gained 3 lbs and so did he. I feel bad about it but I can’t force them….and they said they’ll get back to it in February. We’ll see. Rambo and I are on our own for now but the social anxiety freak in me kind of likes it that way.

I still have a friend that I used to work with that still emails me her daily workout and meal plan and I respond back with mine. That’s a great accountability factor for me.

I cleaned out my shoe/clothes closet this weekend and took before and after pictures to show you!
I’ll try to post them this week.

Thanks for listening to my boring fitness/health stuff! I appreciate it very much!

I’ll go back to farting some exciting gumdrops tomorrow, I promise!

Monday, January 28, 2013

What do you believe?

I didn’t go to church this weekend as usual. It could be because I didn’t wake up until 11am on Sunday or because I never go to church but who’s to say? It’s not really because I have some huge reason like someone thought yesterday when they asked me, “If you don’t believe in going to church on Sundays, then what do you believe in?”

Well, I’ll tell you heifer….just because you asked.

I don’t believe that people who go to church every single weekend have a better chance at going to heaven than anyone else. I know a lot of those people and let’s just say…church ain’t helping them.

I believe that there is such a thing as too much glitter but there can never be too much sparkle or bling.

I believe any man that I love should remember our first date anniversary, our wedding anniversary and my birthday and his kid’s birthdays. I don’t believe that “I’m a man” is a valid excuse to forget these things. They are important. Make an effort dudes. (for the record – Rambo knows all of these - without ever being reminded. He takes a vacation day for every one of these days so that he doesn’t have to work on them.)

I believe that blood doesn’t make you my family. Being called family is a privilege, not a right.

I believe that there is a big difference between being incapable of showing love and being unwilling to show love. I believe it’s a choice.

I believe in rising above bad experiences and hurtful childhoods instead of using them as an excuse to act like an idiot as an adult.

I believe in working hard, making sacrifices and not being a burden on society unless it’s necessary. I don’t believe in hand outs. I don’t believe the government owes me anything and I don’t believe in receiving entitlements that I haven’t earned.

I believe in the Second Amendment – even if that includes assault rifles. And yes, we own quite a few of them.

I believe in daily naps whenever possible. 

I believe that a woman can never have enough shoes, purses or clothes. It’s just not possible.

I believe in breaking cycles and always reaching for better and doing more.

I believe everyone should fart gumdrops once in their life and spend a day in Care Bear Land. Trust me, it’s bliss.

I believe in sleeping in the same bed as my husband until one of us dies.

I believe good marriages are full of good sex.

I believe that after death – we live on. I can’t believe anything but that.

I believe people make mistakes…a lot of them. But I believe in forgiveness – of myself and of others.

I don’t believe that you should be allowed to have 10 kids – if you expect me to pay for them.

I believe that sex has become less about intimacy and emotions and love and more about feeling good in the moment even if it means regretting it later. I believe that sex with everything that moves has become damn near acceptable.

I believe in the death penalty. And I believe most of the people Rambo babysits daily shouldn’t be alive.

I believe in making my kids work and do chores and not handing them everything unless they earn it. I believe in discipline and consequences and I believe that my kids should get to make their own decisions about their own beliefs.

I believe in a God that loves me – even if I don’t go to church every Sunday.

What do you believe in?

Friday, January 25, 2013

Behind the panic...

Do you ever watch those missing person shows where a man or woman just suddenly disappears?
No trace whatsoever and the family is left reeling in despair. Well, I do.
Those shows intrigue me…and scare me too - if I’m being honest.

Usually when the family members are interviewed – they always say things like:

Mary ALWAYS answered her cell phone. Always.

Mary NEVER would have left the children. Never.

Mary NEVER would have gone anywhere like that without calling us first. Never.

Mary ALWAYS called me every day before she went to bed. Always.


Those statements are true…which is why the family knows that something is usually wrong.
Something sinister has probably happened.

Humans are habit creatures. We take the same route home every day. We have a morning routine we rarely stray from. We have daily, weekly and sometimes hourly tasks we do without fail. We put our makeup on in a certain order. We go to bed a certain way watching a certain show.

If you’re like Rambo and I, we even have a certain we that we say I love you to each other.
It’s habit and routine and you can count on it.

What the hell am I getting at? Nothing, really. Other than I realized that it’s damn scary when you need someone and they aren’t there and routine and history tells you that they should be.

I’ve felt this so many times, it isn’t funny. When Rambo was over the road and I couldn’t reach him about the second or third time – panic set in – bad. Fear would take over and I’d imagine his semi in a ditch and him never coming home. If it went on for hours – I’d end up calling his boss.

Because the fact of the matter was, he ALWAYS picked up his phone in the semi. Always.

That never ended when Rambo went into prison work. It probably only intensified. Rambo emails me all day long for his entire shift. When I get to work – an email is already waiting for me. Always.

If he’s taking a prisoner to a hospital or to another prison – then he texts me at every stop to tell me how he’s doing and where he’s at.

It’s comforting.

In the 15 years that he has been in corrections – there have been a few days when I haven’t heard from him.

 Panic like I’ve never known sets in then. After a certain amount of hours, I call the Lieutenant and ask where Sgt. Rambo is and the Lt. tells me which unit Rambo is on. Then he’ll say, “Do you want to talk to him?”

I say nope. I just needed to know he was okay. The Lt. just laughs…because he knows the terror I was feeling and he’s happy to have taken it away for me. He knows exactly why I called.

I have a point, I swear.

Last night for some reason, Watermelon was done with basketball practice and she called my phone, the home phone and Rambo’s phone and we didn’t answer. We were working out with the TV up way too loud. She called multiple times.

Finally, Banana realized my phone was ringing upstairs so she brought it down to me.
I saw that my mom had called.

I called her back.

My Dad answered.

My Dad does not answer phones or call anyone. Ever. It makes him too anxious.

I was caught off guard by his voice and for a second, I panicked that something had happened to my mom. I said, “Dad, did Mom call me?”

He went on to say that Watermelon called them because she couldn’t get a hold of us and that they tried themselves a lot of times to reach us.

He was borderline angry and on the edge of panic.
He was scared to death something had happened to us.

Because we ALWAYS answer our phones and we NEVER leave our kid stranded at the school.

It all got straightened out but afterwards I felt bad for my Dad. I haven’t talked to him in weeks or seen him though he’s only a mile away but behind the panic in his voice is the fact that he’d never recover if he lost me.

I matter to him. He worries about me. He wouldn’t panic if he didn’t give a damn.

He may never be able to say that out loud or voice those words in person…but I’m thankful that I can hear them behind the panic.

I think years ago, I probably just would have been defensive at his angry tone.
But now I see it wasn’t anger.
It was love.

It may have been in an odd container vs. how the rest of the world shows and talks about love –
but it was there just the same.

I needed to record that here so I can come back and
remember this in times when doubt of that love creeps in.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Pooping double standards.

I cannot believe I forgot to tell you guys this. Maybe it’s because it was awful enough to experience and therefore, nearly traumatic to re-live here. But re-live it I will – just for you guys.
Never question my love for you again, mkay?

Alright….sooo…you know how I hate P words – mainly the big one…POOP.
I hate the act of it, doing it, thinking of everyone doing it, ALL of it.

If a magic fairy asked me if I could have a choice between never pooping again and never having a period again – I’d pick the pooping. Hands freaking down.

Because I hate the POOP and everything associated with it – it haunts me.
Follows me around. Taunts me at every turn.

Even at formal board meetings.

Enter Monday night’s meeting.

We are all sitting at our places waiting for one more guy. He has a spot next to me. He comes in – takes his coat off – and doesn’t sit down. He kind of whispers to me….OMG – my stomach is in knots!

I want to say, “ WHY THE F*CK ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS???” but I think inside I know.
And now I’m scared.

He says to everyone, “Go ahead and start the meeting. I have to use the restroom.”

Rambo says, “No problem. We can wait.”

To which this guy says, “Nope. Don’t wait.”

Which is code for “I’m not peeing. I’m going to be longer than a few seconds. I’M GOING TO TAKE A LARGE CRAP! Go on without me.”

Instant hives for me, spank you very much.
I seriously contemplated crying.

I thought of screaming, "Wake up!  We're not just going to sit here while he poops, are we?  Well, are we?"
But none of them even gave his pooping a second thought.  Because they all have penises.

Now listen – you have to understand we are in an old town hall building. Like smells like mold, has documents from the 1800s in it, has mint green walls and one tiny bathroom.
Literally – I can turn in my chair and touch the restroom door.

The restroom door where behind it a respected business man is pooping.
While I pretend to focus on a meeting.
While I try not to cry and gag and run screaming from the room.

Now Rambo knows of my hate for poop so he’s doing his best not to look at me because if he does he’s going to bust a gut laughing his ass off. I hate him.

It is not bad enough that all day I have to literally HEAR men exploding in the bathroom outside my office at work but NOW? At official board meetings too?

In an OLD building – with a toilet only feet from me – s
urrounded by OLD, NON-SOUNDPROOFED walls.

I cannot deal.
I swear to you I was praying to God to not let me have to HEAR a fellow board member while he crapped at a board meeting I was presiding over.

I prayed that Rambo would never stop talking so that it would make the SOUNDS un-hearable.

So far, so good. I heard nothing.

Smelling? Now that’s a whole different thing. I can't even bring myself to discuss it.

I still can’t get over it. I just can’t.
Rambo is still giving me “shit” about it. He thinks it’s hysterical.

I do not.

I had to smell a board member’s crap.
I don’t understand this double standard for men.
They sleep with a million women and we call them a stud while we get called sluts and I can live with that but this pooping double standard – is enough to drive me cray-cray.

Can you literally imagine if a woman walked into to a boardroom – or me – and set my stuff down and said, “Hold up boys. I’ve got a turtle-head poking out and I’ve gotta drop the kids off at the pool. Don’t mind me or the stench…go on without me. I’ll be alright in there.”

Imagine the looks. The disrespect. The grossed-out-ness at me. The I-can-no-longer-look-at-you-as-a-woman-anymore thoughts. They would never forget that I did that….

It’s fine because no woman would ever do that. I think anyway. I have a friend on my FB that literally puts things in her status like, “I took a good dump today and it felt so good.”

Excuse me???? Are you serious? Women should not use the word dump nor should they announce when they do it. Your HUSBAND reads that. Do you think it makes him want to sleep with you? When you tell me you’re having marriage issues and you think he’s not attracted to you – um – duh.
Quit pooping.

Wait. No. Don’t stop pooping.
Just stop talking about it!

Please if you could – feel sorry for me for a moment. Okay?
Thank you.

Lastly – I want to report that I told Banana, the 7 year old with the attitude of a blind crotchety 90 year old woman with no legs – to pick her two tiny socks up off the floor.

I told her once and all I got was a really loud, “UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!”

So I told her again and then I got, “YOU ARE THE MEANEST MOM IN THE WHOLE WORLD!” as she picked them up and threw them in her room.

Hmmm. Asking someone to pick up their socks is mean.
Did you guys know that?

I was too tired to even fight. I just said,
“You just wait. Later on I’m going to ask you to put your fork in the sink. Get ready.”

Jesus balls. Where the hell is the Calgon?

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Raw dog and hives do NOT play nice together.

What do you get when you mix raw dog and a girl with major social anxiety?

You don’t want to know.

Seriously. You just don’t.

Remember I had an appreciation party to go to for the Village work that Rambo and I do? Remember how I said that they serve “raw dog” there? That would be RAW hamburger topped with RAW onions on top of RAW saltine crackers. Oh wait – the crackers aren’t really raw. You get the point. The shit ain’t cooked!

Well – they should also serve calamine lotion is what I say. The drive to the place is literally about 2 miles from my house and at mile #1 – my stomach started hurting. I said to Rambo, “Oh God – it hurts” as I plastered a smile on my face and walked in to the event.

Which was a room full of?


Only men.

I kid you not – I was the ONLY woman there….the whole night. I suppose if I was single and looking for a date – I’d have been in heaven in a room full of firemen, police officers and board members….minus the fact that about 75% of them are all sporting canes and hearing aids. Since I am, in fact, not single – it was just weird. I’m sure no one noticed that I was the only chick there BUT I did. I felt out of place to say the least.

Did I also mention my stomach hurt? And that all around me – grown men were eating raw ground beef?
Oh and that I was covered in hives?

Also that I lost my ever-loving mind and wore a damn wool sweater that was thick enough to keep an Eskimo warm and therefore – I was so hot I wanted to DIE.

Do you wanna know theee absolute BEST thing about being the only woman at an event?

When you want to throw up, shit your pants, itch the hives on your boobs or rip your sweater off so you can stop sweating for a millisecond – you can. In your very own bathroom. Without any worry that another woman will even walk in on you.

Ah, bliss.

Uninterrupted diarrhea followed by uninhibited hive scratching.

Jesus balls.

I’m a hot mess. Hot – literally – in fact…thanks to the wool sweater.

When the basketball game came on the big screen and the poker tables came out and they told me there was no dessert – I knew it was time to take my leave. Thankfully, Rambo agreed.

Now that it’s over - can I just say they should have served me prime rib laced in 24kt gold? I say this because last night I had my second board meeting of the week and I technically only went to this one to support Rambo. It was fun in that I got to officially nominate him for the Mayor position but not so fun in that there was yelling, raised voices, arguing, confusion, accusations and even resignations.

Politics suck donkey dicks sometimes.

I woke up with a migraine. Again.

I didn’t sleep at all. Again.

The meeting made me sick to my stomach. Again.

I should just live in a bathroom. I swear.

For the first time in the years that Rambo has served, he said to me, “I don’t know if this is worth it.”

For the first time in the years that I have served, I wondered if he was right.

The night wasn't a total bust. 
After the board meeting from hell, I did 63 minutes on the treadmill and Rambo did the elliptical. 
No excuses, right?

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Operation "Kick Sheniqua's Ass" Update....

Well it’s weigh-in day in Care Bear Land and the results are in.

I lost another 1.5 pounds.

Let’s recap for the year, shall we?

1/8 - loss of 2

1/15 - loss of 2

1/22 – loss of 1.5

For a total loss of 5.5 for the year! I was down 6 yesterday but yesterday isn’t my official weigh-in day (dammit). No worries though – I’ll get it next week.

The good:

I have continued to track my food every single day. I have stayed at or under 1400 calories a day.

I have worked out a total of 17 days of 21 and have logged over 36 miles so far. (I have decided to make my mile goal for the YEAR > 400 miles. I can so do it!)

I have cut soda from my diet as my drink of choice and made it an occasional treat instead. I drink craploads of water when I used to drink NONE.

I am eating fruits and veggies every day when I used to eat NONE.

The bad:

I have had a migraine 6 out of the last 8 days…which sucks major donkey balls. I am eating better than ever and working out almost daily and still they come. They are stress induced. January is rough at the part time jobs by themselves but when you add in that Rambo’s 2 PT jobs co-incide with mine and we sit on the same boards and serve the same villages – well – it’s a double whammy where stress is concerned. So much passion, politics, elections, audits, taxes and time - are too much for my brain sometimes. Beyond that, if Rambo isn’t doing Village work or at the prison – he’s in the semi. We love our jobs and we signed up for all of them but sometimes it’s tough….but worth it.

New things I’m doing lately:

- Eating cottage cheese…good source of protein and low cal

- Eating grapefruit by cutting it in half and digging it out with a spoon. It takes forever so I feel like I’m eating for a long time (mind games are acceptable during weight loss)

- Every time I’m done eating I feel like I want something sweet but if I go to chocolate – I’m going to want more and more and overeat it and probably binge. Soooo this week I’m eating Starburst. One chew has 20 calories and one or two is enough to stop the sweet craving after I eat thing I go through.

- Tanning – yes, I know it’s terrible for me but mentally – it’s good for me. It helps my mood and I swear to God it makes my fat look “less” and it’s free (well, except for the electricity)…and it makes me warm in this Godforsaken winter.

Things I am proud of:

Yesterday the maintenance man came in my office and dropped two Milky Way candy bars on my desk. He keeps an entire drawer full of candy in his office and he said, “You haven’t been by lately for candy.” I said, “Um duh – I have 25 pounds to lose! Stop bringing me candy – you food pusher!”

He replied with, “Shut up and eat the Milky Ways” as he walked away.

I ate one and the other one is still sitting in my desk drawer – along with a large, full bag of Starburst.

I’m not sure I have ever, ever done such a thing. If I have candy – no matter how big a bag of it – I eat it. ALL.


Me and the fam ate at Pizza Hut this weekend again and all 4 of us ordered WATER. Then we only ordered 5 breadsticks instead of a family order. Then me and Watermelon ordered THIN crust and I only ate 1.5 pieces. Rambo ordered his own little personal pan and that was it. SCORE. Major.



I went to the gas station to buy my kids each a treat. Normally Rambo is a sucker and buys them king size but I bought regular size for them AND I did not buy myself anything. Holy shitballs, right?


Despite having lots of migraines – I worked out anyway. I refuse to let them be an excuse to not get healthier.


I made an appointment for a recheck with my doctor regarding my general health and meds. Rambo is going to go with me since going to any doc causes such anxiety for me. I used to be on 5 medications to prevent migraines and I have since gone off of all of them (I had the same amount of migraines on them as I do now). My doc needs to know that and know why and help me figure out what’s best for the future.


My neighbor friend hasn’t been able to work out with me all week – but I did it anyway!!


To say I want this and that I’m on a roll is an understatement.

It’s a fact.

Rambo’s weigh-in is Thursday and he’s closing in on an 8 lb loss. Stay tuned!

Monday, January 21, 2013

Life Lessons from The Wizard of Oz.

Oh The Wizard of Oz. 

Who doesn't love it, right?

Well - beyond loving it - I think we can learn a lot from it. 

Such as:

Moving on to life lessons...

That's all I got.

I hope this helped.

You're welcome (except for the scary monkey picture).

The End.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

I had broccoli for breakfast. Can we have sex?

Well, well, well…guess whose weigh in day is today? RAMBO’S! Mine is Tuesday and his is Thursday.

The little heifer is down 6 pounds. He’s pretty proud of himself and he should be. Last night he lifted weights with the neighbor and then went back downstairs later to do cardio. I nearly passed out in shock. Two a day?? From my boy? Wowser.

This morning he is doing an armed escort and taking some inmates to other prisons and the hospital so instead of emailing me he’s been texting me inappropriate things all morning.

It always amazes me how Rambo can turn any conversation – like a weigh-in - into a sex proposition.

Let me show you. This was our convo.

How is my baby doll this morning? Wanna know how my weigh in went?


Down 5.5 lbs this week. (he lost .5 the first week).

I’m so proud of you. Holy crap!

I’m proud of you too. You’re going to look so hot on my Harley this summer.

I’ll have to hold your hand constantly so all the girls know you’re mine.

I’ll be too busy kicking all the guy’s asses for looking at you to notice other girls.

Haha! You’re funny.

Can we have sex tonight after I work out?

Wait. What?? Dude – focus. You’re armed with guns, batons and tasers sitting next to a gang member. FOCUS.

That’s not what I really said. I can’t type here what I really said. You’re just gonna have to let your little minds wander.

Moving back to the topic at hand – which if you recall was weight loss and fitness....I have a few questions.

My dear, fellow-tattoo loving friend Mizfit posted recently about how to become a morning worker-outer. God bless her muscle-filled soul but that girl gets up at 4am every day to work out…and I’ve asked her for a good year how she does it. I know Robyn and Cat do morning workouts. Anyone else?

How the hell do you do it without yawning all the way through it? I did it ONE time – and I couldn’t stop yawning AND I could only go in slow motion. I felt like it was worthless because I had no “spunk” that early. Does that go away with time?

Rambo gets up at 4am and my ultimate goal is to get up with him and work out….sigh.

Also, in other equally as boring news – this week when I was pre-prepping my meals, I opened a bag of broccoli in one of those steamed bags…only to find that it wasn’t really broccoli but the stalks with no tops. I counted like 3 tops. The rest was the stalk part. UH-NOY-ING. I was pissed.

Until this morning, when I ate said broccoli stalks and figured out that I like them. I guess now I have to unshank the makers of the broccoli that I promised to shank earlier.

Speaking of – another question. This morning I ate the damn broccoli stalks because I forgot to bring my breakfast….so I did the only smart thing any chick with a raging appetite would do. I ate my lunch so I wouldn’t eat my arm off. Then I got to thinking about all the people that do this on purpose. You know – eat their lunch or biggest meal of the day for breakfast.

I’ve heard it’s best because you’ll burn it off all day rather than eating a large supper and then going to bed. Do any of you do that? I know some people consider their entire diet by the order of the way they eat. Meaning that’s the diet they are on – the one where you eat a large meal for breakfast and they get smaller as the day goes on. How do you feel about that? Ever done it? Believe in it?

Although the stupid broccoli stalks were good – it felt dumb. Like I was worried someone might walk in my office and see me eating chicken, brown rice and broccoli – for breakfast - and I’d have to explain myself like I got caught smoking meth or something. Isn’t that weird?

Apparently it’s a crime to eat broccoli for breakfast in Care Bear Land. However, pizza is totally fine. In case you were wondering.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Turd laying and raw dog.

Mom – come here. He laid a turd on my rug!!!!

THAT is the first thing I heard in my house this morning. A little girl’s voice – yelling at the top of her lungs….as she ran into my room. Arms waving, legs kicking and eyes bugging out!
No – I have no idea where she gets such drama.

It was catastrophic. Tragic to say the least.

You’d think the cat dropped a literal nuclear bomb in my kid’s room.

So yah, we have cats. Two. In the way of cats, they are pretty great. They don’t throw up or have hairballs or pee anywhere but in their litter box. Except for today. One little dried up turd on my kid’s rug.

And yah – you know me and poop. Jesus.
No one on God’s green Earth should have to think about, look at or clean up poop before noon.
Like ever.

However, I can admit that this time wasn’t so bad. It was small and dried up and I removed it. No mess. I actually laughed my ass off at Banana’s choice of words….the cat “laid” a turd.
You know – like chickens lay eggs?

Other than that – my exciting over the top life has been pretty boring. Let me clarify that I am not complaining. I love it that way. And since Rambo was putting in an 18 hour day yesterday, I decided that laying on the couch wouldn’t be very nice or productive and the guilt might actually kill me….so I worked out.

I had every excuse not to. The neighbor girl couldn’t come over to work out as usual so I was on my own….which is usually never good. BUT I had the 2nd half of Biggest Loser to watch so I headed downstairs.

It ended up being a night where the workout felt good and easy and refreshing and most of all? Powerful. I did tabata sprint drills up to 6mph. For me that’s like speeding because my legs are pretty short. I was a sweaty mess. I had plans to tan afterwards but I was too hot to think about stepping in that human oven. I was pretty proud of myself when I was done.

I stayed completely on my food plan other than I ended way under my calorie goal (1400) at 1000 calories. I have NO idea why and it certainly wasn’t on purpose. Sometimes I work out so hard that I just lose my appetite and I think that’s what happened last night. Sprints are no joke when 2 weeks ago the only thing I sprinted was the area between the couch and the refrigerator.

I pre-packed lunches, pre-picked out Banana’s outfit, went through her backpack, did the bath thing, tracked my food and workout and cleaned up the house a bit. Still doing the organized, pre-planning thing that I hope to continue throughout the year. EVERYTHING feels better if I do a little each night instead of letting it pile up.

Who knew right?

Oh - get this. Rambo has this weekend off which makes me so excited I could pee my pants…but that’s not my point. Each year the cities we work for put on an appreciation supper for their workers. Rambo and I both get to go since both our PT jobs are for the city. Do you know what they serve there every year? That people eat up like it’s gold on a platter?


Jesus balls – it’s hard to read that, type that or say that. It sounds soooo terrible and it looks – well – RAW. It’s raw hamburger mixed with onions I think and you put it on a Saltine cracker. I nearly vomit every time I look at it. Have you ever had raw dog? I feel like if I eat raw beef – I’ll end up with worms or have explosive diarrhea at the very least. How can that be safe, I ask you? Eww. Eww. Eww.

So there you have it. Raw dog and cats who lay turds.

No – I will not trade lives with you. Mine is just too damn fabulous to give up. 

I seriously can't believe you even asked.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Tuesday Tidbits...complete with farted gumdrops.

-I farted gumdrops this morning. And let me just say it’s been a long time since anything resembling shugah came out of this ass. Here’s why. Tuesdays are weigh in days for me and I’m down another 2 pounds. Go me, right? I might even spend the entire day lounging around in Care Bear Land…after I work out of course.

-I don’t often think about what Rambo realllly does at work at the prison so it comes out in my dreams. I had a horrible dream last night about the prison and Rambo being tortured and then they killed him in front of me. I woke up screaming. Gawd – I hate those.

-Speaking of Rambo, this morning I got in my car and our wedding song started playing. Awww. He had set the CD to start when I got in. I got to work and there was an email from him with a not so subtle, “How was your ride in to work today lover?” Yes dear…I heard it. Thank you. He’s so proud of himself.

-Rambo injured his knee hauling hogs the other day and even went to the doctor for it. However, he hasn’t missed a single workout. He is done drinking soda too when he used to drink probably at least a 6 pack a day. I’m so proud of him.

-PETA. What do you think of that organization? I no likey. In regards to hogs anyway. One of the other drivers had a pig who wouldn’t move for him so he gently grabbed its ear and moved its head about 60 degrees to the left so that he could maneuver the pig out the door of the trailer. That move – that gentle pull of the ear – got him kicked out of that plant for 1 month. He cannot haul hogs for 30 days because of that “cruelty”. Mind you – 30 seconds later – that pig was shot in the head. UGH. Because this guy can’t haul hogs for 30 days, Rambo got up at 4am to work a full shift at the prison and the minute he is out he’ll get in the semi and drive 6 hours to haul hogs. He won’t be back home until close to 11pm. Thank you, PETA. Please suck my left TITA.

-I no longer drink soda. Day 14 of the New Year and the addiction is broken. Holy shitballs, right? No – this does not mean that I don’t crave it 24/7 or still wish I had an IV drip of constant streaming Mt. Dew.

-I have worked out 13 times this year for a total of 513 minutes and 3291.5 calories. Again on Sunday night, I pre-cooked enough meals for Rambo and I for the week. 4oz of chicken, brown rice, veggies and a small dip of low cal gravy. All packed up and ready to grab each morning. We are seriously kicking ass. This weekend we went to Pizza Hut as a family. Rambo and I ordered SALADS before our pizza came! Did you fall off your chair? I mean, did you? Hence – both he and I only had 1 pc of pizza. And we ordered water. Probably never ever in all of our lives has that happened. Like ever. (Thank you Taylor Swift.)

-I wore fishnet stockings to work yesterday with a dress. The thing is that they were thigh high fishnet stockings with intricate lace at the tops. I felt like I was hiding some dirty little whore-ish secret all damn day just because my fishnets ended at the tops of my thighs instead of at my belly button. It made me laugh all day at how dumb I can be sometimes.

-I want to end by saying that no less than 5 people have stopped to tell me they love my Valentine’s tree. The “love tree" as it has been dubbed by the romantics. By the sarcastic folks – it is the “VD tree” (venereal disease you know? I work with some really mature people. LOL) So far – all the commenters of the love tree have been MEN. Yup. No lie. Men are really just all gooey and squishy in the middle. They can’t even try to hide it. I’m on to them.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Death. Can you talk about it?

Do you ever take a look back at your past and wonder what the heck you have to show for it?

Not in the way of cars and houses or pairs of boots in your closet.

Do you ever let yourself think about your own mortality? Your own death.

I do. Death used to be such a taboo subject but now people pre-pick out their OWN flowers, their OWN music and their OWN casket. And to top if off – they PRE-PAY for all of that….before they are ever dead.

People in my town pre-pay and pick out their cemetery plot AND their headstones – while they are alive. My own parents have their names etched on headstones CURRENTLYand they are alive.

If seeing a living person’s name on a headstone doesn’t freak you out – nothing much will. A couple letters etched in stone can feel like a physical knife in your heart if you aren’t prepared for it.

How do you feel about that? Do you plan to plan your own funeral? Pick out your songs and flowers?
Pre-pay for it? Design your own headstone?

Do you wonder who will come? I do. I wonder if I’ll get to know when I’m dying. Will it be tragic and sudden and I won’t get to know or will it be a medical diagnosis and I’ll have time to prepare?

Will I be able to make peace with death if I’m allowed to prepare for it?

I wonder if I touched any lives. Will something I said to someone in my life stay with them forever?
Will I be missed?

I also wonder what it’ll feel like to be gone for centuries. When my kid’s kid’s kid’s are gone and passed away and no one in the living world has ever seen my face or met me or heard my voice – what does that mean for my spirit?

What will it be like to be literally a name on a leaf in a family tree in some old book people rarely look at?

Will it matter – because hopefully by that time – every single person I love will be with me again.

Do you ever let yourself really think about if your time was tomorrow? I mean people talk about it living like today is your last all the time – but think about it – how many people do you know that really do that?

I wonder if I’ll regret. Will I wish I had done more, been more, said more…loved more?

I suppose some of it sounds egotistical but really – everyone wants to be loved and missed when they are gone. By many.

I’ve shut out a lot of people. Driven some away. Pushed others right out of my life. I’ve apologized for years for being me and I’ve tried to change myself at my core to please others.

But today I don’t do that anymore. I try to celebrate the true me and let the chips fall where they may.

I have no idea if that’s right or wrong….or if when I’m gone that I’ll have left any kind of impression or mark on this world.  I simply hope so.

I know that I still can’t bring myself to buy a cemetery plot where I’ll be buried some day.
For some reason – that’s just too much. Too morbid. Too final.

I do, however, wonder if in 10 or so years, I’ll find myself with Rambo planning my funeral and his.

Does it matter – when I’ll be dead anyway?

I have no idea. I do know that knowing my last days have my final touch on them does seem intriguing. And the times where I’ve witnessed everything being done and paid for have been amazing for those left grieving. To not have to pick flowers and songs and caskets or pay for it – is a true blessing and allows those grieving – to simply grieve.

I want that for who I leave behind.

And I think I want that whole “celebrate life” theme. I think I’d like lots of balloons.

Bright ass flowers of every kind…from my own garden.

I want a pink or purple casket with teal lining. I want a picture of my girls and Rambo in that casket with me forever and the teddy bear Rambo gave me 20 years ago that I can’t sleep without.

I want to be buried in my most favorite, cutest, most comfiest PJs. No stuffy suit, thank you.

Part of pre-planning or thinking about it makes it a little less scary for me because I’ll be honest – some days it scares me to pieces. I just can’t comprehend it or understand it or wrap my head around the cycle of life sometimes.

But I can plan a party and hope the guests remember me when the party is over.

I know other people in my life who refuse to speak of their own death or do any planning.
They simply cannot. Not ever.

I get that and respect that.

How do you feel about it? Have you been to pre-planned and pre-paid for funerals? Been to any “celebrations of life” vs. funerals?

Do you think about how you’ll feel looking back? Will you regret or be at peace? Can you even talk about it now – while you are living?

I know this topic is pretty morbid for a Monday morning but this is what happens when I suffer from late night insomnia and my deep thinking takes over while I pray for sleep.

Lucky you guys, huh?

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Ten Things Thursday!

1 – I used to sit in my Skittle-filled bathtub and pretend that I was a princess and scream out orders to my non-existent servants to get out my pent up stress. No one listened so now I just work out. It seems all around more practical and quieter. That’s right – day 10 of 2013 and I’m still on plan. Can I get an amen, please?

2- Did you know that working out and eating healthy stuff like apples can make pooping happen regularly? This pisses me off. I do not like to make the poopy. Dammit.

3- Why the hell is makeup so expensive? Honest to God – I don’t get it. I’m about ready to start making my own eyeliner using my kid’s crayons. Most of this shit is powder and wax and some color, right? It should be made with gold for what it costs. Or maybe I should buy less. There’s a thought.

4-The flu epidemic scares me. Almost as much as people who wear white socks with black Jesus sandals. In the winter.

5-Have you ever thought a mole was a zit and after you’ve nearly scratched the area completely off your body – you realize it’s a mole and then you live in constant fear that you’ve just given yourself skin cancer? No? Fine. Neither have I.

6 – It is officially time for winter to be over. I will tell you why. Today I spent half the afternoon drawing up our new outdoor area, the bathroom remodel plans and the new garage specs. All of these things cannot take place until it’s at least Spring. Also I bought a new pair of sneakers. First time ever that I’ve bought a pair of Pumas….but they are pink so you know…I had to have them. They will look WAY cuter if I wear them in the Spring. I’m sure of it.

7-Today someone received a shipment of chocolate covered strawberries from a friend. They look like they came straight from the Food Network. I chose a strawberry covered in white chocolate with chocolate drizzle over it. And yes – this IS acceptable on my diet. Did you miss the part about the fact that it’s a strawberry? Full of antioxidants and shit. Kind of like me.

8-Did you feel the Earth shake lately? Things feel a little “odd”? Well – um – that’s because I haven’t had a Mountain Dew in days. Yes – you heard me right. Duh-ays. Some may say I’m taking this getting healthy thing a bit too far and I’d usually agree…except I’ve seen me naked. You’re welcome for that lovely image.

9-I bought Rambo two dog tags for Cmas. One has skulls on it and one has the NFL team on it that he likes. Seriously – I ask you. Is there anything hotter than a man with tattoos lifting weights wearing dog tags? I think not.

10-Last night I was watching a sitcom at 7pm with Banana and a man and a woman were taking each other’s clothes off and breathing heavy. They stopped there but it lasted long enough for Banana to ask me, “Why are they making noise and breathing so heavy, Mom?” I told her they both had just finished running a marathon. Her attention span is too tiny to question my answer so we moved right on her saying, “I think both of my legs are broken because they hurt, Mom.” Thank God for tiny attention spans.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Want more followers? Do NOT do any of these things.

Do any of you read The Daily Tay? She’s hilarious so you totally should.

You know how some of the big, successful bloggers give out tips on how to become a better blogger? Wellll – Miss Creative (aka Tay) – decided to do a list of things she doesn’t do and probably should do regarding blogging. I loved it and because I’m a follower and not a leader and I seem to possess no brain cells to come up with a blogging topic on my own…..Ima copying her. So there.

These are definitely not to do tips people. These are things you should NOT do. These are the things that *I* personally do wrong in the world of blogging. Maybe that makes me unique or stupid. You can be the judge.

1. Just like Miss Tay – my #1 thing that I do wrong is “selfies”. Pictures of myself. I don’t do ‘em. Mostly because it’s really hard for me to look at myself so I have no idea why on Earth anyone else would want to do it.

I don’t completely suck at fashion and I don’t have 18 warts on my nose and I’m not even as old as dirt yet - but taking self-portraits just seems cray-cray for ME. I don’t know where the fashion bloggers and such find the time for these pictures.

Also – I do not nor will I ever carry a camera in my pocket and my cell phone doesn’t even have the internet so that tells you how much I carry my phone too. Oh, and there’s another big reason I don’t do selfies….which leads me to #2.

2. Um….mistake #2 that I make is that I’m completely ANONYMOUS. Actually, anyone with a brain in my real life could figure out who I am but for the most part I don’t share my name or my kid’s names or pics. Few people in my real life even know that I blog.

I don’t even have a major reason for being ANON other than when I first started this blog I talked a lot about the people in my office in good fun but I didn’t want them to ever be hurt or see it. I guess I do have a major reason now that I think about it. I never, ever wanted to filter my words for fear of someone reading them. For shit’s sake – EVERYTHING in my life is filtered enough! I wanted to write with wild abandon!

However, in blog world, I think ANON blogs just aren’t as nice as public ones. There’s less of a personal connection and I don’t think followers prefer it. But it is what it is. And if I want to talk about the VP shitting his pants at work or how great my very own vagina is – well – I can.

3. Pictures. I mean beyond the self-portraits. I just don’t take them. In real life or blog life. I haven’t had a professional family picture taken of my family – ever. It’s pathetic. I’m fairly certain I will regret my non-picture-taking ways when I’m 80 but for now – it’s who I am. I don’t think that I have ever taken a picture of something I’ve eaten either – mostly because I’m shoveling it in too fast to ever take a picture of it. I’ve heard that readers of blogs LOVE posts with pictures. So I guess I should say I’m sorry. I put a pic up once in a while. Does that count?

4. Using mysterious coded names. I doubt very much that anyone likes popping into my blog who hasn’t read it before because they have to wonder who the hell Rambo is. What in Satan’s name is a Drazil? Who names their kids Watermelon and Banana? What the F is CareBear Land? They probably want to scream,
Ah, sue me. It’s why God invented “About Me” pages.

5. Giveaways and reviews. I'm pretty sure all the really good bloggers do lots of these.  Which is to say that I think in all my years of blogging, I’ve done one actual real review and no giveaways. Yup – just call me generous or lazy. Sure, I’ve been asked but it just feels fake-ish to me when I write it. And I have to be honest – if I see a post with a review or giveaway – I skip over it and rarely enter or read it. Unless it’s for purses or shoes and I’m guaranteed to win.

6. Facebook and Twitter. I don’t link my blog to my personal FB account (part of being anon you know?) and I don’t twat or twit or whatever. I don’t even chirp. Not even a little. I’m fairly certain big bloggers gain massive amounts of readers by using social media to their advantage but again I say – when do these people have time? I also say they are just plain smarter than me.
I think I suck at time management because if someone told me today that I had to be on Twitter I think I’d stick my head up my own ass in revolt. Did I mention I don’t even have the internet on my phone? I’m anti-social for God’s sake – why on Earth would I want to be available to everyone 24/7? That’s just crazy talk.

7. Sponsors and ads. I’m pretty sure this is another way that good bloggers gain more followers and moolah. Again – no time to manage such a thing. And I have to admit that I’m very afraid of obsessing over or making money off my blog. I’m afraid it’ll feel like a job then and let’s face it – everything in my life already feels like a job. Even peeing. And breathing.

8. I get political. Once in a while I go off on a political tangent and get completely carried away. It’s something I’m passionate about so I never regret it. I am however, fairly positive that talking politics is a major NO NO in blogland. I get that - so mostly I just talk about sex. An intimate and personal thing such as sex is totally acceptable to talk about in great detail – but never, ever broach the subject of politics. Mkay?

So that’s all I can think of for now. I’m pretty sure I break a lot of other blogging rules but up in CareBear Land no one gives a shit about rules. That’s the mysterious code word for where I live. Because living in reality just isn’t fun. And there’s no Mountain Dew. Duh.

How about you?  Got any blogging tips to share?  Clearly...I could use some help.  Please and thank you.