My slippers are trying to kill me

Reasons I Love Bally Total Fitness

1. The "Does this machine work?" game

2. You don't feel self conscious around the out-of-shape trainers

3. Black men in sunglasses, Latino men in jeans and work boots, Italian men in gold

4. No need to hit the showers-just stand under one of the leaks in the ceiling

5. Short wait time for free weights- full range of motion? Bah!

6. Wide variety of choices for music-just stand next to someone singing along with an iPod

7. A grunt and a clang of metal will signal when a set is finished

8. Environmentally conscious- the same towel is used to clean sinks, mirrors, spills and equipment

9. Extra cardio walking around gym looking for matching set of dumbbells

10. Uninhibited overweight seniors in the locker room-you go girl!

Bored on Lincoln's Birthday

Squirrel Away! To keep squirrels from eating your plants sprinkle your plants with cayenne pepper . The cayenne pepper doesn't hurt the plant and the squirrels won't come near it.

What if the squirrels are from Mexico? Now Manny, don't get your tail feathers in a tizzy-the only "plants" I grow are dandelions and skunk cabbage, so you're not missing out on anything. And the wacky tabaccy is still yours for the usual rate.

S'mores?

One of the greatest compliments in recent memory:
KS: walking into school in a long black jacket with the hood on, and high heeled black boots
Butch gym teacher: Hey, you look all Tomb Raider today.

This weekend was amazing, amazing enough that we titled it The Weekend of Food and Sex, '08. Fine, not the snazziest title in the world, but living it was awesome. We finally rolled out of bed to grab something to eat at 1:30 PM. The restaurant owner recognized the beau and complimented him on his show. I'm not someone who is impressed with celebrity (annoyed, usually), but I must admit it's cool that Mr. C is known in his city and surrounding towns. He dubs it "slightly famous"-he's done just enough stuff to be recognized by the locals, but not anything major enough to cause a fan rush. When we first met, I didn't even think about it, but today I got a kick out of the owner shaking his hand and chatting, and the pleasure it brought Mr. C. Admittedly, after this weekend, someone could have kicked me in the knee, and I would have smiled serenely. (We even, like, communicated and stuff-initiated by him, of course.)

Back when I started a blog, I thought I could post freely, then made the mistake of letting the boyfriend at the time "find" it. I've given no such clues or hints to the beau on this new space (quite ahamed of the shit I post, actually), but when I was rambling yesterday, he interrupted and asked, "Did you say 'bowza'?" I hadn't, but became paranoid that he had somehow found this because I had written "bowza" in a recent post. I'm not concerned about anything I've written about him in particular, just that any suspicion he has that I'm loony will be confirmed.

I like pleasure spiked with pain

A Buddhist biker took pictures of my bare ass. Bowzah!

Kappa Delta Pie

Figuring, what the hell, I just read my Yahoo horoscope. They offer one's Chinese horoscope as well, and again, I figured what the hell. Turns out it's basically the same, just r's where the l's should be.

Ah, an approved personal day in order to attend a meeting on my son's post-high school planning. He gave me a run down of where he would like to apply. He mentioned a local college as a safe school, the one I ended up attending after, ahem, having him rather young. "If you really want to apply there, go ahead, but it doesn't have the major you want, and, quite frankly, you can still attend even without applying during your senior year. Where do you really want to go?"
Georgetown, Tufts, Yale...
"YALE??? Why???" "I have a better chance of getting into Yale than Harvard."
"Honey, if you want to go to Harvard, apply to Harvard! Don't hold yourself back! Dream big! If it's Harvard you want, go for it!"

Damn, I still party occasionally in New Haven, and Good Lord, I wouldn't want to run into him when I'm all drunk and trying to pick up college girls.

Stuck Up American Bitch

I guess I've always been sort of a food snob. My dad's a chef and my mom is an excellent cook. My pediatrician once asked me what my favorite food was when I was 5 or 6, and was quite taken aback when I responded with broccoli quiche. Even though we were poor for quite a few years when my siblings and I were children, when my mom made macaroni and cheese with velveeta, she still started with a buerre blanc and added a pinch of dill before serving. And when my son was a toddler and we were on food stamps for a few months, I somehow managed to add freshly ground black pepper to the Ramen noodles.

Which brings me to chain restaurants. I secretly loathe them, but go along with family and friends for the social aspect of dining out. My son and I ate at Chili's last night, and I thought I would branch out from my ususal chicken tacos (no cheese or sour cream-not due to snobbery, but rather for the safety of family and friends) to chili and a salad. Holy crap. If I wanted a plate of white iceberg and a bowl of upchucked dogfood, I would go visit Great Aunt Matilda. Granted, I probably haven't noticed the poor food quality there in the past because I'm usually blind drunk by the time the entree arrives, but due to the company I was keeping, I was stone cold sober when the goo and cabbage stalks arrived.

Lesson learned: Drink more. A LOT more.

I'll walk right out into a brand new day

While watching Uma crying and laughing in a fetal postion on the floor of the bathroom, I realized it had been just a year since I had seen him last, and the emotions conveyed ran through my body, leaving me as exhausted as she must have felt after that scene.

I wish I had known the five point palm exploding heart technique.