On Thursday afternoon, the call that I've been anticipating all summer finally came. My wedding dress had arrived in the store and was ready for me to try on.
I immediately went into a bit of a panic. You see, I purchased my dress in December of 2009. Its been a VERY long time since I've seen it, and even longer since I last tried it on. I was nervous, to say the least. What if I no longer liked the style? Or the color? Or, and this was my biggest fear, what if my body size had increased drastically since I was measured back in December? What if the darn thing didn't fit? What if I looked *gulp* fat? AAAH! The anxiety was literally enough to keep me up at night. Like, I would fall asleep and wake not an hour later and just lie in bed totally stressed out.
Nevertheless, I made an appointment for yesterday afternoon, threw my Spanx in my purse, skipped breakfast and lunch and dragged AG with me to the shop. I was excited, and nervous and I had no idea what I was in for, but I knew I wasn't going to go in with a full stomach!
I'm sure those of you that have been through this ordeal are currently nodding your heads in complete understanding. If not, let me be clear....I was *terrified*. I mean, this is THE DRESS. The one I will wear on the day I become Mrs. DJC. To say I was scared was a gross underestimation of what I was feeling. I parked the car, got out to walk towards the shop, and immediately started to sweat. When I saw my dress hanging in the dressing room, my breathing rate and pulse increased. And then I put it on...
I think the lady helping me offered me some water and a chair. Apparently, I looked ill. I certainly felt ill. I stood there taking short, shallow, rapid breaths while she laced up the corset. I felt cold and clammy and hot and dizzy and faint as I tried to hold it all together. The lacing seemed to take WAY too long and I started to believe that something was wrong with the dress. My god, I had gotten fatter, I thought! How can this be?! NOOOO! I felt vaguely nauseated. All my hard work at the gym hadn't paid off at all.
But then, she started to pull. She warned me to hold on before the yanking began, but I didn't really know what she meant. Then I realized she was pulling so hard that I actually couldn't breathe! I panicked for reals this time. But as quickly as it had started, the panic was gone and I could breathe. Everything was OK. She continued working her way down and when she had finally finished, I walked out into the viewing room with all the crazy mirrors.
And you know what? I was (and still am) TOTALLY happy with my dress. Its gorgeous. And thanks to the corset from hell, I actually have a waist and a really nice shape. AG took endless amounts of pictures to send to my mom in Florida. I'm so excited for the big day. There are some pretty extensive alterations that need to happen (because I'm not a 6' tall model), but I think its going to be absolutely lovely...
...and perfect, minus about ten pounds. ;)
Showing posts with label True Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label True Stories. Show all posts
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Hi honey, how was your day at the office?
Things I never knew existed, but have since learned come in VERY handy during an HIV counseling session at Glide (and because I'm a total demure prude, I'll let you either Google the terms yourself, or ask me in the comments for the definitions):
1. Booty bump
2. Gummy gobbler
3. Gaffle pussy
4. The location of the sole tranny-only needle exchange in the city
5. Banana hand job
6. PNP, JO, DDF, MSM, IDU
7. Bottom or vers
8. Poppers
During a session today, a sex worker said, "My coochie don't do nothin' but make me money." If that's not in a rap song, it needs to be. You got that, Lil' Wayne? She. Was. Comedy.
The things that come up in sessions astonish me sometimes. I swear, I am the prudest, squarest white girl around. I wonder if the people I counsel secretly think I am too square to be doing this (and the funny thing is that I'm not all that square!). Seriously, I have so much to learn.
1. Booty bump
2. Gummy gobbler
3. Gaffle pussy
4. The location of the sole tranny-only needle exchange in the city
5. Banana hand job
6. PNP, JO, DDF, MSM, IDU
7. Bottom or vers
8. Poppers
During a session today, a sex worker said, "My coochie don't do nothin' but make me money." If that's not in a rap song, it needs to be. You got that, Lil' Wayne? She. Was. Comedy.
The things that come up in sessions astonish me sometimes. I swear, I am the prudest, squarest white girl around. I wonder if the people I counsel secretly think I am too square to be doing this (and the funny thing is that I'm not all that square!). Seriously, I have so much to learn.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Adventures in literature
Today was the first day of my 7:30am summer class, English 1B. I took English 1A in 1994 during my undergraduate years when I cared only about sleeping, partying, dancing, drinking and springboard diving...in that order. Note that academics didn't even make the top 5. Hence, my grade was an abysmal C+. I completely missed the point of the class and really didn't care to get it, either.
Now, I know that a C+ won't get me too far in the graduate world, nursing or otherwise. So, I awoke WAY before my alarm this morning and rolled begrudgingly out of bed, cursing my lack of academic focus back when I was 18. I made myself a large cup of Starbucks Via (which is actually pretty decent), and headed out the door to rectify my C+. Once I arrived on campus, everything went to hell in a handbag. Quickly.
I couldn't remember where the class was supposed to meet. I tried going to the administration office to look at a class schedule, but they didn't open until 8am. I tried finding the class on my phone, but as much as I LOVE my Palm, the web browser blows. Big time. I wandered aimlessly until the bookstore opened at 7:45 and I was able to figure out where the hell I was supposed to go. I hoofed it over to the portable classrooms, took a seat in the back and tried not to call too much attention to the fact that I was nearly twenty minutes late.
The professor sent us all an email on Saturday that included 29 pages of poetry to review before the first class today. TWENTY NINE pages of poetry. I can think of nothing I would like to read LESS that twenty nine pages of poetry (I will tackle my feelings on poetry in a different post). She also gave us a two page handout of literary terms to be discussed in class. While she was trying to come up with an example of alliteration in rap music, I foolishly raised my hand and offered my two cents, courtesy of Notorious BIG:
"Birthdays was the worst days
Now we sip chamgpagne when we thirstaaaaay"
As soon as I finished, the class became very quiet. Everyone looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my nose. I turned about nine shades of red and immediately made a mental note to pipe down and not speak again. People began to snicker and the professor said, "We're all really excited about what you just said...on the inside." I've never felt so lame and embarrassed. Ugh.
Later in the class, though, the professor attempted to make up for it by using the Yin Yang Twins lyric "Like Short said, 'Let Bruce Bruce hit it'" as an example of allusion. I felt less lame, but only a little. I mean, at least I quoted a decent hip hop song so I had that going for me, but I still felt like a major idiot.
If today is any indication of how the rest of the summer is going to go, it's gonna be a loooooooong six weeks, ya'll. "Let Bruce Bruce hit it"....eff me.
Now, I know that a C+ won't get me too far in the graduate world, nursing or otherwise. So, I awoke WAY before my alarm this morning and rolled begrudgingly out of bed, cursing my lack of academic focus back when I was 18. I made myself a large cup of Starbucks Via (which is actually pretty decent), and headed out the door to rectify my C+. Once I arrived on campus, everything went to hell in a handbag. Quickly.
I couldn't remember where the class was supposed to meet. I tried going to the administration office to look at a class schedule, but they didn't open until 8am. I tried finding the class on my phone, but as much as I LOVE my Palm, the web browser blows. Big time. I wandered aimlessly until the bookstore opened at 7:45 and I was able to figure out where the hell I was supposed to go. I hoofed it over to the portable classrooms, took a seat in the back and tried not to call too much attention to the fact that I was nearly twenty minutes late.
The professor sent us all an email on Saturday that included 29 pages of poetry to review before the first class today. TWENTY NINE pages of poetry. I can think of nothing I would like to read LESS that twenty nine pages of poetry (I will tackle my feelings on poetry in a different post). She also gave us a two page handout of literary terms to be discussed in class. While she was trying to come up with an example of alliteration in rap music, I foolishly raised my hand and offered my two cents, courtesy of Notorious BIG:
"Birthdays was the worst days
Now we sip chamgpagne when we thirstaaaaay"
As soon as I finished, the class became very quiet. Everyone looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my nose. I turned about nine shades of red and immediately made a mental note to pipe down and not speak again. People began to snicker and the professor said, "We're all really excited about what you just said...on the inside." I've never felt so lame and embarrassed. Ugh.
Later in the class, though, the professor attempted to make up for it by using the Yin Yang Twins lyric "Like Short said, 'Let Bruce Bruce hit it'" as an example of allusion. I felt less lame, but only a little. I mean, at least I quoted a decent hip hop song so I had that going for me, but I still felt like a major idiot.
If today is any indication of how the rest of the summer is going to go, it's gonna be a loooooooong six weeks, ya'll. "Let Bruce Bruce hit it"....eff me.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Sunday celebration
For the past couple weeks, I've been volunteering one day a week at Glide Memorial in their HIV drop-in testing center. I've been shadowing certified HIV counselors so that I can learn the skills necessary to conduct my own counseling sessions once I attend the formal training. Its been an infinitely interesting time thus far. I've learned so much. And I'm genuinely happy to be there and to help out however I can. I haven't felt truly happy about a line of "work" since my athletic training days.
About two weeks ago, the parish pastors came up to the clinic to get HIV tests and take a few pictures that would be shown on the big screen at Celebration (their word for Sunday "mass" or "service"). The idea was to talk about testing and how easy and painless it is in front of the whole congregation...to let everyone know that Glide offers more than a great church experience and a free meal. We would then offer the rapid tests right after Celebration to whomever wanted one. The pastors figured that it would be a good way to show people that the tests aren't scary and that knowing one's HIV status is important.
You see, Glide isn't like any regular church. They don't care what your religious affiliation is, who you share your bed with, if you've had substance abuse issues, if you've got no place to call home, if you've had a shower in the last month, or what gender you identify with. Everyone is welcome with open arms and without judgment. Their message of radical inclusiveness is evident in every program they offer, not just in the church side of things. The message is spiritual and non-denominational. Its really an amazing place.
Anyway, today was the day for the pictures to be shown and for testing. I arrived not knowing what to expect, but was quickly pulled into the positive feeling of the people I spoke with. I attended Celebration, which is the first time I've stepped foot in a church in probably seven or eight years. I'm not exactly what you'd call a church-going kind of gal. But that's probably because I'd never been to this particular church.
Imagine a full band, a choir of about 30 people front and center on the stage and pews packed with smiling faces. Then, the singing started. There was SO. MUCH. SINGING. And clapping. And dancing. And joy...180 degrees from the regimented, terribly stoic Catholic church services I've attended previously. I've honestly never had so much fun at church.
The pastors kept the talking and preaching to a minimum. They'd say a few sentences that were inspiring without being all "Praise Jesus!!", and then the choir, composed of ALL kinds of people, would start again. And then the congregation would stand and the clapping, dancing, and singing would start up again as well. Even though I didn't know the songs, I clapped and shifted my weight from side to side in time with the beat just the same. I'd say more than 75% of the Celebration consisted of singing and dancing.
There were technical issues that prevented the pictures we'd taken previously from being shown, but the director of HIV services conducted a rapid test on one of the pastors stage instead. The Celebration finished with a sermon from a trans-gender pastor and a few announcements from drag queens about the Glide float for next weekend's Pride Parade.
All told, we tested about fifteen people today. But hundreds heard the announcement that Glide offers free confidential testing five days a week. Hopefully, the numbers at the walk-in clinic will increase next week. I shook lots of hands, gave lots of hugs and smiled more than I have in a long time. The positivity was absolutely contagious.
From what I understand, I'm very lucky to have scored a volunteer position here as there are always a TON of people wanting to help. I am also hoping to help out in the medical part of the clinic soon, as the skills I already possess could be put to immediate use with minimal training. We'll see, though. For now, I'm just happy to be there learning and doing whatever I can...
About two weeks ago, the parish pastors came up to the clinic to get HIV tests and take a few pictures that would be shown on the big screen at Celebration (their word for Sunday "mass" or "service"). The idea was to talk about testing and how easy and painless it is in front of the whole congregation...to let everyone know that Glide offers more than a great church experience and a free meal. We would then offer the rapid tests right after Celebration to whomever wanted one. The pastors figured that it would be a good way to show people that the tests aren't scary and that knowing one's HIV status is important.
You see, Glide isn't like any regular church. They don't care what your religious affiliation is, who you share your bed with, if you've had substance abuse issues, if you've got no place to call home, if you've had a shower in the last month, or what gender you identify with. Everyone is welcome with open arms and without judgment. Their message of radical inclusiveness is evident in every program they offer, not just in the church side of things. The message is spiritual and non-denominational. Its really an amazing place.
Anyway, today was the day for the pictures to be shown and for testing. I arrived not knowing what to expect, but was quickly pulled into the positive feeling of the people I spoke with. I attended Celebration, which is the first time I've stepped foot in a church in probably seven or eight years. I'm not exactly what you'd call a church-going kind of gal. But that's probably because I'd never been to this particular church.
Imagine a full band, a choir of about 30 people front and center on the stage and pews packed with smiling faces. Then, the singing started. There was SO. MUCH. SINGING. And clapping. And dancing. And joy...180 degrees from the regimented, terribly stoic Catholic church services I've attended previously. I've honestly never had so much fun at church.
The pastors kept the talking and preaching to a minimum. They'd say a few sentences that were inspiring without being all "Praise Jesus!!", and then the choir, composed of ALL kinds of people, would start again. And then the congregation would stand and the clapping, dancing, and singing would start up again as well. Even though I didn't know the songs, I clapped and shifted my weight from side to side in time with the beat just the same. I'd say more than 75% of the Celebration consisted of singing and dancing.
There were technical issues that prevented the pictures we'd taken previously from being shown, but the director of HIV services conducted a rapid test on one of the pastors stage instead. The Celebration finished with a sermon from a trans-gender pastor and a few announcements from drag queens about the Glide float for next weekend's Pride Parade.
All told, we tested about fifteen people today. But hundreds heard the announcement that Glide offers free confidential testing five days a week. Hopefully, the numbers at the walk-in clinic will increase next week. I shook lots of hands, gave lots of hugs and smiled more than I have in a long time. The positivity was absolutely contagious.
From what I understand, I'm very lucky to have scored a volunteer position here as there are always a TON of people wanting to help. I am also hoping to help out in the medical part of the clinic soon, as the skills I already possess could be put to immediate use with minimal training. We'll see, though. For now, I'm just happy to be there learning and doing whatever I can...
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Minor annoyances
I got an email from my nutrition professor this morning informing me that her Excel program had made an error in calculating my final grade and she only caught it after grades had been submitted. So, instead of the A that I had earned by accumulating the highest scores on three exams and completing the extra credit assignment, my final grade in the LAMEST class I have ever taken is currently a B. NOT OK. She did say that she's working on fixing it with the college administration, but she's also going out of town for the entire summer and knowing how long things generally take to get done at this school, I better stay on top of it. Lovely.
I did manage to nail down an A in pathophysiology, though. And that's nice!
On my volunteer application for Planned Parenthood, I found this question: "What does pro-choice mean to you?" And then, there was literally ONE LINE to tackle that very complex question. Dude, can I attach additional pages? I could write lots about that deceptively simple question. Like the Oxford One-Word Admission essays...except this is one question.
Parents, WHY do some of you purchase the ear piercing squeaky shoes for your special little snowflakes (credit for that goes to Miss Plumcake) and then let them run out of control in a quiet office? Its just mind boggling, really. Look, I'm sure Aiden and Alannah will be JUUUUUUUUUST fine without you having to hear their every little precious step. And if you can't locate your children by sight and have to listen for their squeaky whereabouts, well, you're just not cut out for this whole parent thing.
DJC and I recently watched Food Inc. for the aforementioned nutrition class and I have to say, DAMN, that movie has me a little more than messed up diet-wise. And when I say "diet", I don't mean a reduction of calories or cutting out this or that in hopes of losing weight. Diet, in this case, is simply the things that I eat on a daily basis. Because of that movie (and partially due to my nutrition professor's semi-Nazi stance on minimally processed foods), DJC and I are really re-evaluating what and more importantly, HOW we eat. What does this mean in practical terms? More local, organic veggies from small farms. More farmers' markets. Less red meat. NO fast food (I still love you Taco Bell!). NO foods with HFCS. Knowing where our chicken has come from. More fiber. More natural vitamins and minerals.
I think that everyone should see this movie. Its 100% disturbing but also factual. Food, instead of remaining a source of nourishment for humans, has become a big business controlled by a bunch of mulitnational nightmare corporations who have little to no concern for animals, their own workers and least of all, consumers. I shouldn't have been surprised by anything I saw in this movie, but I really was. I had no idea just how out of hand things have gotten. Yes, getting through the whole movie will suck, but I think everyone needs to see just what's behind what we eat.
I miss you Crunchwrap Supreme...but it's for the best.
I did manage to nail down an A in pathophysiology, though. And that's nice!
On my volunteer application for Planned Parenthood, I found this question: "What does pro-choice mean to you?" And then, there was literally ONE LINE to tackle that very complex question. Dude, can I attach additional pages? I could write lots about that deceptively simple question. Like the Oxford One-Word Admission essays...except this is one question.
Parents, WHY do some of you purchase the ear piercing squeaky shoes for your special little snowflakes (credit for that goes to Miss Plumcake) and then let them run out of control in a quiet office? Its just mind boggling, really. Look, I'm sure Aiden and Alannah will be JUUUUUUUUUST fine without you having to hear their every little precious step. And if you can't locate your children by sight and have to listen for their squeaky whereabouts, well, you're just not cut out for this whole parent thing.
DJC and I recently watched Food Inc. for the aforementioned nutrition class and I have to say, DAMN, that movie has me a little more than messed up diet-wise. And when I say "diet", I don't mean a reduction of calories or cutting out this or that in hopes of losing weight. Diet, in this case, is simply the things that I eat on a daily basis. Because of that movie (and partially due to my nutrition professor's semi-Nazi stance on minimally processed foods), DJC and I are really re-evaluating what and more importantly, HOW we eat. What does this mean in practical terms? More local, organic veggies from small farms. More farmers' markets. Less red meat. NO fast food (I still love you Taco Bell!). NO foods with HFCS. Knowing where our chicken has come from. More fiber. More natural vitamins and minerals.
I think that everyone should see this movie. Its 100% disturbing but also factual. Food, instead of remaining a source of nourishment for humans, has become a big business controlled by a bunch of mulitnational nightmare corporations who have little to no concern for animals, their own workers and least of all, consumers. I shouldn't have been surprised by anything I saw in this movie, but I really was. I had no idea just how out of hand things have gotten. Yes, getting through the whole movie will suck, but I think everyone needs to see just what's behind what we eat.
I miss you Crunchwrap Supreme...but it's for the best.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Wedding Updates
I checked in on my dress today. You know, the dress I ordered back in December. Because DJC and I aren't tying the knot until October, the manufacturer hasn't even begun to make my gorgeous frock. Its due in the store in August. I want to try it on before August, but I totally understand the store not wanting to hold it for months and months. Sigh.
We've got a tasting scheduled at our caterer's on Wednesday. Hells to the Yeah for free food! And damn tasty food at that. Word.
And now, on to the most exciting thing....
My mom recently sent me a package that included two of my grandmother's buttons from her wedding dress (that will be sewn onto my dress) and three rings: one from my maternal grandmother and two from my paternal grandmother, who just recently passed on after 96 years of hilariously ornery one-liners. My aunt had sent them to my mother because she has two sons, both of whom are already married, and had no idea what to do with the rings. My mother gladly accepted them and mailed them over to me, stating that I could probably use the stones to make my own ring.
Well, the band on my maternal grandmother's ring was worn clean through. It was her original engagement ring that she wore for over seventy years. It was delicate and in serious need of some TLC. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it. But my paternal grandmother's rings were a different story. They were both in very good condition and both beautiful. Upon seeing them, I instantly decided that I would have the band of diamonds re-sized and that I would wear it as my wedding band. But, I figured I'd just take the stones from the other ring to use in a custom design. That is, until I spoke with the jewelry maker and owner of 14 Karats in Berkeley.
He convinced me that I would be foolish to destroy the rings for the stones. He said that the ring was unique, ornate, and a very beautiful heirloom. I would regret it if I did anything but have it cleaned up and re-sized so that I could wear both rings together. And after a nanosecond of thought, that's exactly what I am going to do.
I called my aunt today to tell her about my plans. She was so pleased and overwhelmed that she began to cry, which, of course, made me cry, too. She told me that my grandmother had asked that she take good care of her rings after she passed and she was so happy that I would be wearing them. I loved my grandma very much and am very proud to be wearing such memorable pieces as a symbol of my commitment and love for DJC.
As for my maternal grandma's ring, I have decided to have it rebuilt and will give it as a peace offering to my sister. She was pissed about the fact that I got all three rings, so hopefully this will put out the fire. The guys at 14 Karats promised me that they could make the ring look new again. Kerry and his father John were so nice and helpful. They even cleaned up my engagement ring free of charge and offered AG and I cold beer and anything else we wanted from the "bar". DJC loves the idea of a "bar" in a jewelry store...he'll be back to try their scotch soon.
So, that's all on the wedding front for now. We're chugging along. We're both trying to lose weight. We're crossing things off the list. Slowly, it's all getting done and coming together....
We've got a tasting scheduled at our caterer's on Wednesday. Hells to the Yeah for free food! And damn tasty food at that. Word.
And now, on to the most exciting thing....
My mom recently sent me a package that included two of my grandmother's buttons from her wedding dress (that will be sewn onto my dress) and three rings: one from my maternal grandmother and two from my paternal grandmother, who just recently passed on after 96 years of hilariously ornery one-liners. My aunt had sent them to my mother because she has two sons, both of whom are already married, and had no idea what to do with the rings. My mother gladly accepted them and mailed them over to me, stating that I could probably use the stones to make my own ring.
Well, the band on my maternal grandmother's ring was worn clean through. It was her original engagement ring that she wore for over seventy years. It was delicate and in serious need of some TLC. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it. But my paternal grandmother's rings were a different story. They were both in very good condition and both beautiful. Upon seeing them, I instantly decided that I would have the band of diamonds re-sized and that I would wear it as my wedding band. But, I figured I'd just take the stones from the other ring to use in a custom design. That is, until I spoke with the jewelry maker and owner of 14 Karats in Berkeley.
He convinced me that I would be foolish to destroy the rings for the stones. He said that the ring was unique, ornate, and a very beautiful heirloom. I would regret it if I did anything but have it cleaned up and re-sized so that I could wear both rings together. And after a nanosecond of thought, that's exactly what I am going to do.
I called my aunt today to tell her about my plans. She was so pleased and overwhelmed that she began to cry, which, of course, made me cry, too. She told me that my grandmother had asked that she take good care of her rings after she passed and she was so happy that I would be wearing them. I loved my grandma very much and am very proud to be wearing such memorable pieces as a symbol of my commitment and love for DJC.
As for my maternal grandma's ring, I have decided to have it rebuilt and will give it as a peace offering to my sister. She was pissed about the fact that I got all three rings, so hopefully this will put out the fire. The guys at 14 Karats promised me that they could make the ring look new again. Kerry and his father John were so nice and helpful. They even cleaned up my engagement ring free of charge and offered AG and I cold beer and anything else we wanted from the "bar". DJC loves the idea of a "bar" in a jewelry store...he'll be back to try their scotch soon.
So, that's all on the wedding front for now. We're chugging along. We're both trying to lose weight. We're crossing things off the list. Slowly, it's all getting done and coming together....
Monday, April 19, 2010
In the fridge currently...
5 cans of Moose Drool Brown Ale (Note: Icky name. Decent beer)
2 cans of Ten Fidy Russian Imperial Stout from Oskar Blues
4 cans of Big Swell IPA from Maui Brewing Company
1 can of Siamese Twin Ale from Uncommon Brewers
1 12oz bottle of Aprihop from Dogfish Head
2 12 oz bottle of Mission Street IPA from Trader Joe's.
1 24 oz bottle of Bear Republic XP Pale Ale
1 24 oz bottle of Wilco Tango Foxtrot Ale from Lagunitas
1 24 oz bottle of Green Flash Imperial IPA
Half a bottle of Chalone Vineyard Chardonnay- probably should be thrown out.
Half a bottle of Spinyback Sauvignon Blanc- Ditto here. Didn't even know we had this as it was in the WAY back.
This is after I polished off a 4 pack of Allagash White Ale this weekend and DJC drank various bottles of his swill of choice. Rumor has it that there are at least 12 bottles of Session Black Lager from Full Sail on their way to the fridge later today. Damn ya'll...that's A LOT of alcohol. After I came home from the grocery store today and could barely fit a bag of salad in there, I knew I had to take stock of what was occupying all the space.
And yes, I sat in front of the open fridge while I cataloged its contents and didn't care how much energy I was wasting. My dad would be so disappointed. Hee-hee!
2 cans of Ten Fidy Russian Imperial Stout from Oskar Blues
4 cans of Big Swell IPA from Maui Brewing Company
1 can of Siamese Twin Ale from Uncommon Brewers
1 12oz bottle of Aprihop from Dogfish Head
2 12 oz bottle of Mission Street IPA from Trader Joe's.
1 24 oz bottle of Bear Republic XP Pale Ale
1 24 oz bottle of Wilco Tango Foxtrot Ale from Lagunitas
1 24 oz bottle of Green Flash Imperial IPA
Half a bottle of Chalone Vineyard Chardonnay- probably should be thrown out.
Half a bottle of Spinyback Sauvignon Blanc- Ditto here. Didn't even know we had this as it was in the WAY back.
This is after I polished off a 4 pack of Allagash White Ale this weekend and DJC drank various bottles of his swill of choice. Rumor has it that there are at least 12 bottles of Session Black Lager from Full Sail on their way to the fridge later today. Damn ya'll...that's A LOT of alcohol. After I came home from the grocery store today and could barely fit a bag of salad in there, I knew I had to take stock of what was occupying all the space.
And yes, I sat in front of the open fridge while I cataloged its contents and didn't care how much energy I was wasting. My dad would be so disappointed. Hee-hee!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Plan B...and C...and maybe D
Nursing schools, prerequisites, the lottery system, impossible odds of getting selected. All of this stuff has really been on my mind lately. Mostly because this year's applicant pool is more impacted than ever. Hundreds of us are vying for, like, 20 spots at each school. Its depressing when you really sit down and think about it. My chances of getting in are about as great as if I woke up one morning to find that I'd been reborn as a supermodel. See what I mean? Depressing.
In light of this fact, I realized need a backup plan. I've started looking into LVN programs in the Bay Area (LVN stands for Licensed Vocational Nurse...not quite an RN, but still employable). Problem here is that most of the schools want the anatomy requirement to have been fulfilled in the last five years, which means I will have to take yet another semester of effing prerequisites. Most RN programs, by comparison, don't have a time limit on when that class was taken. I checked my transcript...I took anatomy in 1996. Eeek.
Then there's the Western Career College problem. They offer an LVN program which, by all outward appearances, looked attractive. I went to the informational meeting, where the presenter glossed over the cost of the 16 month course of study, but it did not escape me. Mostly because my mouth was literally hanging open. They spend an extensive amount of time on financial aid in this presentation because tuition there will set you back nearly $45,000. FORTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS for the privilege of take classes at a vocational college that's located inside a mall. That's right. During your lunch break, in theory, you could go out and buy a pair of jeans and grab lunch at the Chili's all without walking outside. That is, if you could afford jeans or food after being raped for a cool $45K.
So, Plan B is out. Next, I've started to look at Medical Assistant programs. They're short (about 8 months), not prerequisite heavy, not terribly impacted, and MAs are fairly employable in all types of medical settings. See, the goal here is to gain medical experience and continue to support myself while waiting for my name to get drawn in the nursing school lottery. This, kids, is plan C. I am going to check out two such schools next week to see what the story is. The cool thing about the two I've chosen is that they offer a phlebotomy certification along with your MA license, which makes graduates instantly more employable. Bonus! Hopefully, they won't be outrageously expensive.
If neither of those schools work out, plan D involves finding an office job. Easier said than done right now, though. I've sent in some resumes, but I don't really expect to hear back from anyone. Those looking for jobs right now run into the same problem that nursing school hopefuls already know all too well...tons of applicants, one or two spots.
Plan B, C and D = one big FML.
In light of this fact, I realized need a backup plan. I've started looking into LVN programs in the Bay Area (LVN stands for Licensed Vocational Nurse...not quite an RN, but still employable). Problem here is that most of the schools want the anatomy requirement to have been fulfilled in the last five years, which means I will have to take yet another semester of effing prerequisites. Most RN programs, by comparison, don't have a time limit on when that class was taken. I checked my transcript...I took anatomy in 1996. Eeek.
Then there's the Western Career College problem. They offer an LVN program which, by all outward appearances, looked attractive. I went to the informational meeting, where the presenter glossed over the cost of the 16 month course of study, but it did not escape me. Mostly because my mouth was literally hanging open. They spend an extensive amount of time on financial aid in this presentation because tuition there will set you back nearly $45,000. FORTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS for the privilege of take classes at a vocational college that's located inside a mall. That's right. During your lunch break, in theory, you could go out and buy a pair of jeans and grab lunch at the Chili's all without walking outside. That is, if you could afford jeans or food after being raped for a cool $45K.
So, Plan B is out. Next, I've started to look at Medical Assistant programs. They're short (about 8 months), not prerequisite heavy, not terribly impacted, and MAs are fairly employable in all types of medical settings. See, the goal here is to gain medical experience and continue to support myself while waiting for my name to get drawn in the nursing school lottery. This, kids, is plan C. I am going to check out two such schools next week to see what the story is. The cool thing about the two I've chosen is that they offer a phlebotomy certification along with your MA license, which makes graduates instantly more employable. Bonus! Hopefully, they won't be outrageously expensive.
If neither of those schools work out, plan D involves finding an office job. Easier said than done right now, though. I've sent in some resumes, but I don't really expect to hear back from anyone. Those looking for jobs right now run into the same problem that nursing school hopefuls already know all too well...tons of applicants, one or two spots.
Plan B, C and D = one big FML.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
The Big-O debacle
My car eats tires for breakfast...and then snacks on them again later in the day...and then feasts on them for dinner. The funny thing is that my alignment is fine and always has been. Mechanics are frequently surprised to see the condition of my tires after the see that the alignment is cool. Yeah, me too. Anyways, recently DJC convinced me that I needed at least two new tires. So, I high-tailed it over to the Alameda Big-O. Upon walking in the door, things immediately went south.
The first person to talk to me was Brian. He informed me that the computer said that there were two tires in my size in stock, but upon trying to verify that, he was able to actually locate only one. He said that he would have to order one from the Fremont store and that it wouldn't be delivered until the next day. OK, I thought, I'll just come back. But Brian said, "WHOAAA. We have to ask you to pay for them now...you know, to reserve them." Ummm, OK. So I coughed up $120 for nothing and went home.
The next day, I returned only to find that my tires, you know, the ones I had paid for to "reserve" had been put on another car. This might have been the closest I've been to really hauling off and punching someone in a long time. To rectify the situation, Brian upgraded my tires to the next ones up for free. Whatever, I thought. Just as long as they were round, and would allow my car to move forward and back, I didn't really care. I was steaming mad.
Well, between the "technicians" taking countless cigarette and cell phone breaks, the tires somehow got mounted onto my car. I drove away two hours later. This is where things really went to hell in a handbag, though.
At speeds over 50mph my car shook violently. My freaking teeth rattled in my head. I vowed to take the car back the next day and have this whole shaking thing sorted.
The "technician" I spoke with during my second visit told me, in no uncertain terms, that they had done everything correctly the first time and that if there was a problem now, it was my fault. My car sure as hell didn't shake like that before the tires were replaced, dude! Clearly, it was my fault. Ass. Anyway, he said they'd take the tires off, re-balance them and all would be well. Two hours later, I drove off, steaming mad again.
Everything worked out this time, right? Except not so much. If anything, after the second round of balancing, the shaking and rattling and vibrations at high speeds were WORSE. I was livid. There was no way I was going to take my car back to the Alameda Big-O, so I decided to drive all the way out to Danville to have the guys there take a look. I'd had good luck with service there before and the Alameda ass-clowns were clearly entirely too busy to properly assess what was causing the shaking. Too busy or too lazy...I can't tell which.
Here's what the Danville folks found: During the first trip in to the Alamdea store, the new tires had been put on the rear (pretty standard), and the rear tires moved to the front. Well, those tires had not worn evenly and were wobbling all over the place. Apparently, a bracket had been broken during the process of the installation as well (nice). The Danville guys took the new back tires and swapped them to the front, putting the old ones back on the rear axles. And here's the cool part....they test drove it to make sure that everything was fine. Well, it wasn't. The car still shook and wobbled. They then took a look at the new tires themselves and found that one wasn't completely round (?!?!). Mind you, these are the tires I purchased less than a week ago!
The Danville guys agreed to provide a new, perfectly round tire to me at no cost, which is what is being installed currently. So, here I sit at the local Chargebucks, killing time. I'm just glad they were able to figure out what was wrong. They put in the extra effort that Alameda wasn't willing to do. Eff those turkeys. Never going back there again. Danville Big-O FO' EVA!
The first person to talk to me was Brian. He informed me that the computer said that there were two tires in my size in stock, but upon trying to verify that, he was able to actually locate only one. He said that he would have to order one from the Fremont store and that it wouldn't be delivered until the next day. OK, I thought, I'll just come back. But Brian said, "WHOAAA. We have to ask you to pay for them now...you know, to reserve them." Ummm, OK. So I coughed up $120 for nothing and went home.
The next day, I returned only to find that my tires, you know, the ones I had paid for to "reserve" had been put on another car. This might have been the closest I've been to really hauling off and punching someone in a long time. To rectify the situation, Brian upgraded my tires to the next ones up for free. Whatever, I thought. Just as long as they were round, and would allow my car to move forward and back, I didn't really care. I was steaming mad.
Well, between the "technicians" taking countless cigarette and cell phone breaks, the tires somehow got mounted onto my car. I drove away two hours later. This is where things really went to hell in a handbag, though.
At speeds over 50mph my car shook violently. My freaking teeth rattled in my head. I vowed to take the car back the next day and have this whole shaking thing sorted.
The "technician" I spoke with during my second visit told me, in no uncertain terms, that they had done everything correctly the first time and that if there was a problem now, it was my fault. My car sure as hell didn't shake like that before the tires were replaced, dude! Clearly, it was my fault. Ass. Anyway, he said they'd take the tires off, re-balance them and all would be well. Two hours later, I drove off, steaming mad again.
Everything worked out this time, right? Except not so much. If anything, after the second round of balancing, the shaking and rattling and vibrations at high speeds were WORSE. I was livid. There was no way I was going to take my car back to the Alameda Big-O, so I decided to drive all the way out to Danville to have the guys there take a look. I'd had good luck with service there before and the Alameda ass-clowns were clearly entirely too busy to properly assess what was causing the shaking. Too busy or too lazy...I can't tell which.
Here's what the Danville folks found: During the first trip in to the Alamdea store, the new tires had been put on the rear (pretty standard), and the rear tires moved to the front. Well, those tires had not worn evenly and were wobbling all over the place. Apparently, a bracket had been broken during the process of the installation as well (nice). The Danville guys took the new back tires and swapped them to the front, putting the old ones back on the rear axles. And here's the cool part....they test drove it to make sure that everything was fine. Well, it wasn't. The car still shook and wobbled. They then took a look at the new tires themselves and found that one wasn't completely round (?!?!). Mind you, these are the tires I purchased less than a week ago!
The Danville guys agreed to provide a new, perfectly round tire to me at no cost, which is what is being installed currently. So, here I sit at the local Chargebucks, killing time. I'm just glad they were able to figure out what was wrong. They put in the extra effort that Alameda wasn't willing to do. Eff those turkeys. Never going back there again. Danville Big-O FO' EVA!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
iPole...Part Deux
After Coby's pole dancing bachelorette party, I was really excited to take another class a little closer to home. I called Sedusa Studios in Campbell and made a reservation for myself and AG about two weeks ago. Today, we headed down to the South Bay, met BL for a quick lunch and a drink, and then hustled over to the studio to make the 3pm class. We were almost late because, of course, BL offered us a shot of vodka that we couldn't turn down. A little social lubrication certainly couldn't hurt...
This studio was VERY well hidden and difficult to find. Once we walked in the door, we were greeted by the skinniest lady I have seen in a long time. She had us sign release forms and handed us 5" clear stripper heels. Yeah, these:
The Manolo would SO not approve of these. They are so tacky it hurts. AG wanted flashing lights in the soles of hers. Flashing lights could have only improved their look. The funny thing was that AG and I agreed that we were both waaaay too comfortable in these things. Scary. And, BONUS, I didn't roll an ankle or stumble in any way! WOOT!
The class itself was a bit of a disappointment. It really was geared to beginners in every sense of the word, and for coordinated folks like AG and I, it moved a little too slowly. Despite the fact that each of us had our own pole, we only learned one move on that pole, and the "combination" that Skinny Lady taught us was ridiculously short. I would have liked to learn a few more moves and spend less time working on hip circles. But then again, it was just an introductory class. Apparently, participants work all the way up to flipping upside down on the pole in the actual 5 week series (which will set you back $200), but for $25, I guess what we learned in the intro class was OK.
I managed not to injure myself at all during this class, which is a plus. But on the downside, we barely did anything but walk really slowly, touch ourselves in sexy ways, and do lots and lots of hip circles. There wasn't really a whole lot of opportunity for injury.
I think the next place AG and I are going to hit up is S-Factor in San Francisco. I have it on good word that their method is pretty tough and traditional. I'll report back if and when we give it a go.
This studio was VERY well hidden and difficult to find. Once we walked in the door, we were greeted by the skinniest lady I have seen in a long time. She had us sign release forms and handed us 5" clear stripper heels. Yeah, these:
The Manolo would SO not approve of these. They are so tacky it hurts. AG wanted flashing lights in the soles of hers. Flashing lights could have only improved their look. The funny thing was that AG and I agreed that we were both waaaay too comfortable in these things. Scary. And, BONUS, I didn't roll an ankle or stumble in any way! WOOT!The class itself was a bit of a disappointment. It really was geared to beginners in every sense of the word, and for coordinated folks like AG and I, it moved a little too slowly. Despite the fact that each of us had our own pole, we only learned one move on that pole, and the "combination" that Skinny Lady taught us was ridiculously short. I would have liked to learn a few more moves and spend less time working on hip circles. But then again, it was just an introductory class. Apparently, participants work all the way up to flipping upside down on the pole in the actual 5 week series (which will set you back $200), but for $25, I guess what we learned in the intro class was OK.
I managed not to injure myself at all during this class, which is a plus. But on the downside, we barely did anything but walk really slowly, touch ourselves in sexy ways, and do lots and lots of hip circles. There wasn't really a whole lot of opportunity for injury.
I think the next place AG and I are going to hit up is S-Factor in San Francisco. I have it on good word that their method is pretty tough and traditional. I'll report back if and when we give it a go.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Fitness fanatics
The gym I give my heart and soul to on a daily basis, the Bladium, teaches Les Mills classes. I think I've raved about them before on my blog in various forms (RPM, BodyJam, BodyPump, BodyFlow, etc), but here's a closer look. You'll understand why in a sec...
Basically, the Les Mills programs, which also include step, kickboxing, and good old fashioned high-low 80's aerobics, were developed in New Zealand and have since become VERY popular around the world. The choreography and music are updated quarterly. Each new "release" is sent out to instructors world-wide and for a period of time, everyone around the world does the same stuff in their classes. For example, my good friend R is currently in Beirut and he and I have talked about the releases for RPM and BodyCombat. Its pretty cool that we're taking the same classes even though he's on the other side of the world. When he comes back to the US, he'll be able to jump right in without missing a beat.
Its impossible to take a class from any of the Bladium's high-energy instructors without getting sucked into the Les Mills world. The classes and choreography are so well designed that you can't help but feel motivated and excited to come back for more. Yes, they're a hell of a workout, but what makes it so easy to get hooked is that they're FUN. I honestly never thought I'd really enjoy the BodyStep class, but I don't even realize that I'm kicking my own ass because I'm having such a good time. Same goes for BodyCombat and BodyJam. It also helps that the music and choreo change so frequently. Les Mills makes it easy to have a good time while working out. Crazy, I know.
Anyways, on to the point of this post....Every four months, Les Mills holds a Quarterly Conference in various cities to celebrate the release of their new material. One of these conferences just took place in Santa Clara, CA last weekend. Originally, they were only for instructors to get a sneak peak of the new releases, but recently, members were included as well. A large group of ladies from the Bladium all decided to go, and when Brent, one of the Step instructors, egged me on, I joined in as well.
I had no idea what to expect. I knew that it was an entire day of fitness, with classes running back to back from 7am until 6pm, but what exactly did that mean? Well, lemme tell you, this was like nothing I've ever seen in my life! A full stage. Lighting effects. Participants dressed up for their favorite class (like wearing hip-hop clothes for Jam or wearing cammo stuff for Combat). It was nuts! It was like a concert/rave/cardio-fest complete with the rock star program directors (some from New Zealand who had flown in just for the event) presenting the new stuff to about 250 crazed Les Millsfanatics fans.
The guy in the blue shirt is Brent, one of the Step and Attack instructors at the Bladium. Although you can't tell from this pic, he is about 5'8" of pure muscle and cheerleading energy. His classes are insanely fun and sometimes silly and he has quite a following world-wide. He is bubbly and sweats sunshine and he's everything you'd expect a former cheerleader to be. I luf him and his gorgeous wife Michelle. The other two instructors in the pic are from New Zealand. I couldn't understand a word either of them said despite the fact that they were speaking English. They were awesome.
So, the rest of the ballroom was totally dark and the only reason this picture came out kinda OK is because the people in it were literally inches away from the stage and the lights. Not sure if you can tell, but try to see how far back the group goes. These pics were taken during Attack, which was the second-to-last class of the day (there were eight in total). A large number of people had already left, and there were STILL this many people there. The Les Mills machine can almost be described as a cult. People were SO into it. Like, they-had-Les-Mills-tattoos-on-their-arms into it.
Oh yeah, did I mention I had a horrid cold on this day? Well, I did. After coughing my way through Step, an hour-long educational session, Flow, and Jam, I couldn't quite handle Attack. Hell, Combat was still to come! I opted to sit out and take pictures instead. About 10 people saw me and immediately shoved their cameras at me so I could capture the class for them as well. Instructors posed for pictures with everyone after the class ended. People were sweaty and not looking their best, but it didn't matter. They wanted pictures with their fitness idols.
All in all, this was the single most wild, crazy, painful, sweaty, and amazing day of fitness I've ever experienced. I'm as sore and as tired as I've ever been, and I think its safe to say I am forever hooked. Wherever I go in the world, I will always have to be near a gym that offers the Les Mills programs. The classes, the instructors, the choreography, the feeling I get from doing them...I have to have it all. I've finally found something I can stick with for life. Now, if only I could get my diet in order...
Basically, the Les Mills programs, which also include step, kickboxing, and good old fashioned high-low 80's aerobics, were developed in New Zealand and have since become VERY popular around the world. The choreography and music are updated quarterly. Each new "release" is sent out to instructors world-wide and for a period of time, everyone around the world does the same stuff in their classes. For example, my good friend R is currently in Beirut and he and I have talked about the releases for RPM and BodyCombat. Its pretty cool that we're taking the same classes even though he's on the other side of the world. When he comes back to the US, he'll be able to jump right in without missing a beat.
Its impossible to take a class from any of the Bladium's high-energy instructors without getting sucked into the Les Mills world. The classes and choreography are so well designed that you can't help but feel motivated and excited to come back for more. Yes, they're a hell of a workout, but what makes it so easy to get hooked is that they're FUN. I honestly never thought I'd really enjoy the BodyStep class, but I don't even realize that I'm kicking my own ass because I'm having such a good time. Same goes for BodyCombat and BodyJam. It also helps that the music and choreo change so frequently. Les Mills makes it easy to have a good time while working out. Crazy, I know.
Anyways, on to the point of this post....Every four months, Les Mills holds a Quarterly Conference in various cities to celebrate the release of their new material. One of these conferences just took place in Santa Clara, CA last weekend. Originally, they were only for instructors to get a sneak peak of the new releases, but recently, members were included as well. A large group of ladies from the Bladium all decided to go, and when Brent, one of the Step instructors, egged me on, I joined in as well.
I had no idea what to expect. I knew that it was an entire day of fitness, with classes running back to back from 7am until 6pm, but what exactly did that mean? Well, lemme tell you, this was like nothing I've ever seen in my life! A full stage. Lighting effects. Participants dressed up for their favorite class (like wearing hip-hop clothes for Jam or wearing cammo stuff for Combat). It was nuts! It was like a concert/rave/cardio-fest complete with the rock star program directors (some from New Zealand who had flown in just for the event) presenting the new stuff to about 250 crazed Les Mills
The guy in the blue shirt is Brent, one of the Step and Attack instructors at the Bladium. Although you can't tell from this pic, he is about 5'8" of pure muscle and cheerleading energy. His classes are insanely fun and sometimes silly and he has quite a following world-wide. He is bubbly and sweats sunshine and he's everything you'd expect a former cheerleader to be. I luf him and his gorgeous wife Michelle. The other two instructors in the pic are from New Zealand. I couldn't understand a word either of them said despite the fact that they were speaking English. They were awesome.
So, the rest of the ballroom was totally dark and the only reason this picture came out kinda OK is because the people in it were literally inches away from the stage and the lights. Not sure if you can tell, but try to see how far back the group goes. These pics were taken during Attack, which was the second-to-last class of the day (there were eight in total). A large number of people had already left, and there were STILL this many people there. The Les Mills machine can almost be described as a cult. People were SO into it. Like, they-had-Les-Mills-tattoos-on-their-arms into it.Oh yeah, did I mention I had a horrid cold on this day? Well, I did. After coughing my way through Step, an hour-long educational session, Flow, and Jam, I couldn't quite handle Attack. Hell, Combat was still to come! I opted to sit out and take pictures instead. About 10 people saw me and immediately shoved their cameras at me so I could capture the class for them as well. Instructors posed for pictures with everyone after the class ended. People were sweaty and not looking their best, but it didn't matter. They wanted pictures with their fitness idols.
All in all, this was the single most wild, crazy, painful, sweaty, and amazing day of fitness I've ever experienced. I'm as sore and as tired as I've ever been, and I think its safe to say I am forever hooked. Wherever I go in the world, I will always have to be near a gym that offers the Les Mills programs. The classes, the instructors, the choreography, the feeling I get from doing them...I have to have it all. I've finally found something I can stick with for life. Now, if only I could get my diet in order...
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
iPole...kinda
The occasion: BT's little sis's bachelorette party.
The scene: A yoga/pole dancing studio for an introduction to sluttin' it up on the pole. The dim red lights inside the studio in place of overhead fluorescents were a nice touch.
The crew: Eighteen of us in various workout outfits, sans stripper heels or shoes of any kind, feeling a little timid.
The instructor: A 40-ish lady with a ridiculously SLAMMIN' body and insane control of her hips. I envied this woman instantly.
The class: We learned that we all possess something called a "naughty squat". This was news to me (and my knees). We also learned that when approaching the pole, the ONLY acceptable walk was a sexy one. This proved difficult for some, but everyone gave it their best shot. We were taught a short combination, which included a back bend to the floor, a front twirl, and a back hook twirl. While I managed to look OK doing most of the moves, I royally SUCKED at the back hook twirl. I just couldn't get it. Despite several tries and special attention from Ms. 40 Year Old Perfect Ass, I couldn't figure out what to do with my free leg. As BT so eloquently phrased it, "There were moments of 'sexy', and moments of 'awkward'." I think in my case, the awkward moments were really, really awkward.
The carnage: I kinda tweaked my left wrist, both of my forearms were screaming, I sustained minor floor burn on both tops of my feet (which would turn into bruises the next day), bruises on both insides of my knees, and damn near every muscle in my upper back and shoulders was sore the next day.
The verdict: I had a great time. Despite being the biggest girl there, I really enjoyed myself and felt pretty hot at some points. I never realized how much core strength is involved in pole dancing. I have an all new respect for the girls that can hoist themselves high up on the pole, flip upside down, spin around and not land in a heap on the floor the way I'm sure I would if I were to ever try something like that.
I've decided that I must take another class. There's a great studio in the South Bay where an old athlete of mine teaches classes. I signed AG and I up for one of their introductory classes in two weeks. The difference: this studio lends its participants 5" clear stripper heels for the class. All tackiness aside, if I ended up with as many injuries as I did from doing the class barefoot, just imagine the list I'm gonna come home with after trying to dance, let alone walk, in 5" clear stripper heels. Talk about awkward!
I can't wait. =)
The scene: A yoga/pole dancing studio for an introduction to sluttin' it up on the pole. The dim red lights inside the studio in place of overhead fluorescents were a nice touch.
The crew: Eighteen of us in various workout outfits, sans stripper heels or shoes of any kind, feeling a little timid.
The instructor: A 40-ish lady with a ridiculously SLAMMIN' body and insane control of her hips. I envied this woman instantly.
The class: We learned that we all possess something called a "naughty squat". This was news to me (and my knees). We also learned that when approaching the pole, the ONLY acceptable walk was a sexy one. This proved difficult for some, but everyone gave it their best shot. We were taught a short combination, which included a back bend to the floor, a front twirl, and a back hook twirl. While I managed to look OK doing most of the moves, I royally SUCKED at the back hook twirl. I just couldn't get it. Despite several tries and special attention from Ms. 40 Year Old Perfect Ass, I couldn't figure out what to do with my free leg. As BT so eloquently phrased it, "There were moments of 'sexy', and moments of 'awkward'." I think in my case, the awkward moments were really, really awkward.
The carnage: I kinda tweaked my left wrist, both of my forearms were screaming, I sustained minor floor burn on both tops of my feet (which would turn into bruises the next day), bruises on both insides of my knees, and damn near every muscle in my upper back and shoulders was sore the next day.
The verdict: I had a great time. Despite being the biggest girl there, I really enjoyed myself and felt pretty hot at some points. I never realized how much core strength is involved in pole dancing. I have an all new respect for the girls that can hoist themselves high up on the pole, flip upside down, spin around and not land in a heap on the floor the way I'm sure I would if I were to ever try something like that.
I've decided that I must take another class. There's a great studio in the South Bay where an old athlete of mine teaches classes. I signed AG and I up for one of their introductory classes in two weeks. The difference: this studio lends its participants 5" clear stripper heels for the class. All tackiness aside, if I ended up with as many injuries as I did from doing the class barefoot, just imagine the list I'm gonna come home with after trying to dance, let alone walk, in 5" clear stripper heels. Talk about awkward!
I can't wait. =)
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Documentation FAIL
I'm taking a general nutrition class this semester. So far, we've learned the basic chemical compositions of water and carbon dioxide, the difference between a calorie and a kilocalorie, how to read the nutrition label on various foods, and why the American food supply is killing us slowly. Really, nothing groundbreaking. If nursing schools didn't need to see this class listed on a piece of paper proving that I took it, I'd have dropped it on the first day. Its so far beyond lame, I fear my head will explode during lecture most days.
Anyways, our current assignment involves documenting what we're eating for five consecutive days. I had been doing well up until today, Superbowl Sunday. DJC and I were invited to a party and upon arriving, we were greeted by the most ridiculous spread I've seen in a while. As far as documentation goes, today was a giant mess. Seriously...LOOK:
I think its safe to say I had some of nearly everything in these pics. Please note the box of See's Candy in the last one. Yeah, I tore it up. But as much as I mowed through almost everything offered, I did skip this one:
Yeeeeccch. Spam sushi. DJC had the best quote of the day, "I like the way it looks, the presentation. I'm not having any, but I like the way it looks." Hahaha. Yep, that's about right.
But there weren't only savory options to graze upon. There were sweets. Aaah yes, there were sweets. Behold, my Kryptonite:
Red. Velvet. Cupcakes. The ONLY thing that kept me from faceplanting in either one of these containers was that the cupcakes weren't good. I mean, even a mediocre red velvet cupcake is still pretty good, but these really, REALLY weren't. Such a crime against dessert, they were. So sad. Thankfully, these filled the void:
Holy moly. How the HELL am I even going to document everything that passed by my lips today? I honestly don't know where to start. Perhaps I should start by making it to spinning class in the morning....
Anyways, our current assignment involves documenting what we're eating for five consecutive days. I had been doing well up until today, Superbowl Sunday. DJC and I were invited to a party and upon arriving, we were greeted by the most ridiculous spread I've seen in a while. As far as documentation goes, today was a giant mess. Seriously...LOOK:
I think its safe to say I had some of nearly everything in these pics. Please note the box of See's Candy in the last one. Yeah, I tore it up. But as much as I mowed through almost everything offered, I did skip this one:
Yeeeeccch. Spam sushi. DJC had the best quote of the day, "I like the way it looks, the presentation. I'm not having any, but I like the way it looks." Hahaha. Yep, that's about right.
But there weren't only savory options to graze upon. There were sweets. Aaah yes, there were sweets. Behold, my Kryptonite:
Red. Velvet. Cupcakes. The ONLY thing that kept me from faceplanting in either one of these containers was that the cupcakes weren't good. I mean, even a mediocre red velvet cupcake is still pretty good, but these really, REALLY weren't. Such a crime against dessert, they were. So sad. Thankfully, these filled the void:
Holy moly. How the HELL am I even going to document everything that passed by my lips today? I honestly don't know where to start. Perhaps I should start by making it to spinning class in the morning....
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
More rants and raves
Friday afternoon, I logged on to Chabot's website to make sure that every last one of my transcripts had arrived in time to meet their nursing program's timeline. They require that each school mails transcripts directly by January 29th, which can be a scary thing. Leaving my nursing school future to the disgruntled, underpaid, overworked LaWandas of the local junior colleges gave me cold sweats at night. For good reason, too.
As I scanned through all of the schools that had managed to do their jobs and get my transcripts to Chabot in time, I wasn't immediately alarmed. But then, wait...one was missing! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! NO! This could not be happening! I had worked hard on my application and had gone to great lengths to get all of my paperwork in line and then BAM!, Diablo Valley College 's ineptitude took all of that away in a blink of an eye. I was certain Chabot would reject my application because it was incomplete. In this day and age of more applicants than program spaces, colleges are looking for any reason to narrow the applicant pool. I was literally in tears.
I picked up the phone and called DVC's admissions and transcript department. Some bitter, angry woman basically told me that it takes 10 business days to process a request. Today, Friday the 29th, was the eighth business day. EVERY OTHER SCHOOL managed to process my requests on time, but DVC held on to it for eight business days. I asked the unhelpful lady if there was anything I could do. She told me that this whole thing was my fault because I should have paid for the rush processing. I asked if I could do that right then and there. "No," she barked. "Rush processing takes 48 hours." Fuck my life. She basically told me that there was nothing I could do. I was shit out of luck.
Did I mention that I cried? Well, I did. LOTS. Like hysterically. With the impossibly low probability of getting into a lottery school , I couldn't afford to take myself out of the running of any of them! AAAH!
I called Chabot and belly-ached and blubbered my way through several phone messages to anyone in the nursing department whose answering machine I could get. I felt like I was screwed. I briefly scanned the original application and found several references to the fact that they do not accept late transcripts under any circumstances. *sigh*
By Saturday morning, I had come to terms with the fact that my application would be rejected. It sucked, but ultimately, it was my fault for not checking to see if my transcripts had been received earlier in the week. There really was nothing I could do at this point.
Monday morning, I got a call from Chabot's nursing department stating that they would accept transcripts up until Friday of this week (Feb. 5th). I IMMEDIATELY got on the phone with DVC again and was greeted by a friendly, incredibly helpful woman named Renee, who basically told me that she couldn't even find my original request and that's why it hadn't been processed. When I explained my situation, she apologized profusely and promised to help me out by putting my transcript in the mail that same day. When she said this, I honestly felt about 1500 pounds of stress lift off of my shoulders. Renee, my savior, hooked it up. The bitter woman from Friday made me cry...and Renee made me dance around with joy.
As I scanned through all of the schools that had managed to do their jobs and get my transcripts to Chabot in time, I wasn't immediately alarmed. But then, wait...one was missing! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! NO! This could not be happening! I had worked hard on my application and had gone to great lengths to get all of my paperwork in line and then BAM!, Diablo Valley College 's ineptitude took all of that away in a blink of an eye. I was certain Chabot would reject my application because it was incomplete. In this day and age of more applicants than program spaces, colleges are looking for any reason to narrow the applicant pool. I was literally in tears.
I picked up the phone and called DVC's admissions and transcript department. Some bitter, angry woman basically told me that it takes 10 business days to process a request. Today, Friday the 29th, was the eighth business day. EVERY OTHER SCHOOL managed to process my requests on time, but DVC held on to it for eight business days. I asked the unhelpful lady if there was anything I could do. She told me that this whole thing was my fault because I should have paid for the rush processing. I asked if I could do that right then and there. "No," she barked. "Rush processing takes 48 hours." Fuck my life. She basically told me that there was nothing I could do. I was shit out of luck.
Did I mention that I cried? Well, I did. LOTS. Like hysterically. With the impossibly low probability of getting into a lottery school , I couldn't afford to take myself out of the running of any of them! AAAH!
I called Chabot and belly-ached and blubbered my way through several phone messages to anyone in the nursing department whose answering machine I could get. I felt like I was screwed. I briefly scanned the original application and found several references to the fact that they do not accept late transcripts under any circumstances. *sigh*
By Saturday morning, I had come to terms with the fact that my application would be rejected. It sucked, but ultimately, it was my fault for not checking to see if my transcripts had been received earlier in the week. There really was nothing I could do at this point.
Monday morning, I got a call from Chabot's nursing department stating that they would accept transcripts up until Friday of this week (Feb. 5th). I IMMEDIATELY got on the phone with DVC again and was greeted by a friendly, incredibly helpful woman named Renee, who basically told me that she couldn't even find my original request and that's why it hadn't been processed. When I explained my situation, she apologized profusely and promised to help me out by putting my transcript in the mail that same day. When she said this, I honestly felt about 1500 pounds of stress lift off of my shoulders. Renee, my savior, hooked it up. The bitter woman from Friday made me cry...and Renee made me dance around with joy.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Rants and Raves
Hmmm. 10 seconds ago, I had plenty of motivation to blog. Now, I think I'm gonna repaint my nails instead. They're very chipped from last night and I just can't handle looking at them for another minute. Be be back soon.
Update: I'm back! My nails are a lovely shade of OPI's "Suzi Skis in the Pyrenees" (a dark gray inky blue) and I'm ready to rock. I feel much better about the state of my nails. Woot. Love the color!
First off, let's discuss Monk's Kettle. This very small "gastropub" in San Francisco's Mission District offers, like, five full pages of different beers (Typed in 9 point font. Single spaced.) Right away, one can see why DJC chose this place for his birthday celebration. They also have a pretty decent food menu. The problem: its VERY small, fairly pricey for beers and is overrun with an abundance of trust-fund hipsters. What could go wrong?
When we arrived, we were told that our entire party needed to be present to be seated, but because there were eight of us, we couldn't all be seated together. Ummm, ohhhh- kaaay. The place is so small that they literally couldn't seat eight people together. The host was flustered and flitted around until he figured out a way to get a booth for six and then a small table for two in close proximity. Despite having to wait over ninety minutes to be seated, all was well.
Our waiter showed up and told us we had to order food immediately. He rushed us through our entire meal. After our dinner plates had been hastily cleared, he informed us that he had been told by his manager to "move the table along". What that meant was that we either had to order more food (dessert), or we had to go. Apparently, there is a very long wait for a table on Saturday nights and they couldn't afford to have us sit there and only order beers. Ahem. Take a gander at their beer list and tell me if you've seen beer prices that outrageous before. Its not like we were all ordering glasses of water or sodas and simply taking up valuable space. I flashed my pearly whites and told the waiter that we definitely wanted to order more beer and planned to spend more money. He still booted us out. I guess when you've got a line out the door of people wanting buy your overprices libations, you can do whatever you want. The thing is WE WERE TOTALLY THOSE PEOPLE.
Fine, ass clowns. We decided to take our little party three doors up the street to a place called Gestalt Haus, but before we left, I hit the restroom. The ONE restroom in the whole place. Of course there was a line. While in line, I overheard our waiter bitching and moaning about the conversation he had with DJC about the table situation. Ok, I get it...I used to wait tables and I sure complained about a customer or two, but I made DAMN SURE that the customer was nowhere in sight. He carried on while I stood right behind him. One of DJC's friends convinced me not to confront the guy and so I didn't. But I heard everything he said and it was most certainly not professional. Ick.
When we arrived at Gestalt Haus, DJC's buddies ordered three ONE LITRE mugs of Hop Stoopid beer, an 8% IPA. The price: $18. For all three. That's $18 TOTAL. Insane. We totally could have skipped all the Monk's Kettle drama and gone straight for the good stuff at Gestalt. Well, at least we know better now. Can't say we'll be going back to Monk's Kettle any time soon. I just wanted DJC to have a good time with our friends and I believe he did. So, no biggie. YAY for Gestalt Haus saving the day!
But, I still Yelped about our experience. Yeah, I gave them two stars only. One for the beer selection, and one for the giant pretzel on the appetizer menu. Damn hipster establishment with their bullshit attitudes toward customer service.
Update: I'm back! My nails are a lovely shade of OPI's "Suzi Skis in the Pyrenees" (a dark gray inky blue) and I'm ready to rock. I feel much better about the state of my nails. Woot. Love the color!
First off, let's discuss Monk's Kettle. This very small "gastropub" in San Francisco's Mission District offers, like, five full pages of different beers (Typed in 9 point font. Single spaced.) Right away, one can see why DJC chose this place for his birthday celebration. They also have a pretty decent food menu. The problem: its VERY small, fairly pricey for beers and is overrun with an abundance of trust-fund hipsters. What could go wrong?
When we arrived, we were told that our entire party needed to be present to be seated, but because there were eight of us, we couldn't all be seated together. Ummm, ohhhh- kaaay. The place is so small that they literally couldn't seat eight people together. The host was flustered and flitted around until he figured out a way to get a booth for six and then a small table for two in close proximity. Despite having to wait over ninety minutes to be seated, all was well.
Our waiter showed up and told us we had to order food immediately. He rushed us through our entire meal. After our dinner plates had been hastily cleared, he informed us that he had been told by his manager to "move the table along". What that meant was that we either had to order more food (dessert), or we had to go. Apparently, there is a very long wait for a table on Saturday nights and they couldn't afford to have us sit there and only order beers. Ahem. Take a gander at their beer list and tell me if you've seen beer prices that outrageous before. Its not like we were all ordering glasses of water or sodas and simply taking up valuable space. I flashed my pearly whites and told the waiter that we definitely wanted to order more beer and planned to spend more money. He still booted us out. I guess when you've got a line out the door of people wanting buy your overprices libations, you can do whatever you want. The thing is WE WERE TOTALLY THOSE PEOPLE.
Fine, ass clowns. We decided to take our little party three doors up the street to a place called Gestalt Haus, but before we left, I hit the restroom. The ONE restroom in the whole place. Of course there was a line. While in line, I overheard our waiter bitching and moaning about the conversation he had with DJC about the table situation. Ok, I get it...I used to wait tables and I sure complained about a customer or two, but I made DAMN SURE that the customer was nowhere in sight. He carried on while I stood right behind him. One of DJC's friends convinced me not to confront the guy and so I didn't. But I heard everything he said and it was most certainly not professional. Ick.
When we arrived at Gestalt Haus, DJC's buddies ordered three ONE LITRE mugs of Hop Stoopid beer, an 8% IPA. The price: $18. For all three. That's $18 TOTAL. Insane. We totally could have skipped all the Monk's Kettle drama and gone straight for the good stuff at Gestalt. Well, at least we know better now. Can't say we'll be going back to Monk's Kettle any time soon. I just wanted DJC to have a good time with our friends and I believe he did. So, no biggie. YAY for Gestalt Haus saving the day!
But, I still Yelped about our experience. Yeah, I gave them two stars only. One for the beer selection, and one for the giant pretzel on the appetizer menu. Damn hipster establishment with their bullshit attitudes toward customer service.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Whiskey D*ck
This is posted outside of my nutrition class at the local junior college. Hilarious.
Sometimes, I forget how old I am or that I've already done the whole college thing. When I first saw this poster, I thought it was ridiculous. Because seriously, who doesn't know this? But then I walk in to nutrition and I'm instantly reminded that there are some people in the class that are still teenagers. Perhaps they don't know about "brewer's droop". Poor souls. Perhaps they will actually learn something from this awesome poster (complete with a William Shakespeare quote). I have to think, though, that kids these days...they're pretty well versed in all things alcohol by the time they get to high school. By the time they get to junior college, this is common knowledge. In which case, the poster is even more awesome.
It's just so....graphic. Love it. Happy Friday, everyone!
Monday, January 25, 2010
More laundormat insanity
The scene: the less than awesome laundromat, right after lunch. The place is packed. PACKED. Its hot, damp, and loud. So loud. Whoop.
Me: No makeup, chipped nail polish, hair wet from the rain, velour pants, black Uggs. So. Not. Hot.
Him: Receding hair line, cargo shorts and flip-flops despite the rain, cell phone permanently attached to his ear, can't stop looking at me. Really. Kinda icky.
Finally, homeboy makes his move. As I'm folding my laundry (and DJC's) directly from the dryer, he slides up next to me, gets my attention, and says, "You've got nice legs and a great ass. Wanna get a drink sometime?"
I think my mouth might have fallen open. Despite the sheer hilarity of the dude's comments, there are several very pressing issues that I feel I need to discuss:
First, did he miss the very shiny ring on my left hand? I feel like people of his age (roughly mid 30s), look for the ring before making such a ridiculous stab at my "great ass". For all I know, he saw my ring and just didn't care. Whatever the case, EW.
Secondly, and far more importantly, ring or no ring, did he think that line would actually work? I'm afraid he thought it would. In a laundromat. While I'm clearly folding a man's polo shirt. Good lord.
The funny thing was that I was SUPER embarrassed by the whole exchange. Its not often that I hear compliments about my hind quarters from strangers. Its not like either are my best feature. I think I may have turned eight different shades of red. Thankfully, I quickly dispatched the weird stranger and continued to fold underwear and socks.
There are times when I'm happy about being able to wash and dry four loads of laundry in about ninety minutes, but today was not one of them. Oh, who am I kidding...today was totally hysterical.
Me: No makeup, chipped nail polish, hair wet from the rain, velour pants, black Uggs. So. Not. Hot.
Him: Receding hair line, cargo shorts and flip-flops despite the rain, cell phone permanently attached to his ear, can't stop looking at me. Really. Kinda icky.
Finally, homeboy makes his move. As I'm folding my laundry (and DJC's) directly from the dryer, he slides up next to me, gets my attention, and says, "You've got nice legs and a great ass. Wanna get a drink sometime?"
I think my mouth might have fallen open. Despite the sheer hilarity of the dude's comments, there are several very pressing issues that I feel I need to discuss:
First, did he miss the very shiny ring on my left hand? I feel like people of his age (roughly mid 30s), look for the ring before making such a ridiculous stab at my "great ass". For all I know, he saw my ring and just didn't care. Whatever the case, EW.
Secondly, and far more importantly, ring or no ring, did he think that line would actually work? I'm afraid he thought it would. In a laundromat. While I'm clearly folding a man's polo shirt. Good lord.
The funny thing was that I was SUPER embarrassed by the whole exchange. Its not often that I hear compliments about my hind quarters from strangers. Its not like either are my best feature. I think I may have turned eight different shades of red. Thankfully, I quickly dispatched the weird stranger and continued to fold underwear and socks.
There are times when I'm happy about being able to wash and dry four loads of laundry in about ninety minutes, but today was not one of them. Oh, who am I kidding...today was totally hysterical.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Wisconsin wine follies
It was a cloudy, snowy day in Brookfield, WI. I had a terribly stuffy nose and didn't feel at all like drinking. Yet, there I stood, in the wine isle of the local Sendik's (the Wisconsin equivalent of Andronico's) while DJC hunted for his favorite Wisconsin beers. I was searching for the elusive local ice wine that Dtex had told me I had to try. I was failing. Local wine, apparently, did not exist. I sighed...loudly.
Then I noticed two HUGE women in a heated debate near me. One woman was looking for a particular kind of wine although she couldn't remember what it was called. The other woman then took notice of a bottle on the shelf and said, very loudly, "WHOA. Francis Ford Coppola makes wine?!" I couldn't help myself. I replied that yes, actually he does, and that his wines aren't all that bad. They immediately pegged me as an out-of-towner and asked if I was from California. When I answered affirmatively, they pummeled me with questions about their mystery wine, because "all Californians know about wine".
Neither of them knew the maker nor the type of wine they were looking for, but they both kept saying something that sounded like "rinuti" and "abrusco". Hmmm. Sounded Italian. I told them that I am no wine expert, but that I wasn't familiar with a wine called "rinuti abrusco" (I know now, after Googling it, that abrusco is a type of grape indigenous to Italy). I asked them to describe the taste, hoping that I could at least pick out a similar wine for them. They said hey weren't sure if it was white or red, but that it was fruity and very sweet. "Ick," I thought. I quickly picked out a bottle of Ecco Domani pinot grigio for them. I hoped it would be acceptable and that they wouldn't be cursing me later.
Later in the evening at the DJC family Christmas party, I noticed a HUGE jug of RIUNITE LAMBRUSCO wine. Oh. My. God. The women were actually asking for Reee-yooo-nee-tee wine! Riunite! Hilarious!! When I told my story to DJC's dad, he laughed and said that those ladies were more likely to find their Riunite at a gas station as Sendik's probably didn't even carry it. Love that I sent them away with a pretty decent bottle of pinot grigio... and they listened to me because all Californians supposedly know about wine. I bet they were so pissed later in the evening. LOL. Classic.
Then I noticed two HUGE women in a heated debate near me. One woman was looking for a particular kind of wine although she couldn't remember what it was called. The other woman then took notice of a bottle on the shelf and said, very loudly, "WHOA. Francis Ford Coppola makes wine?!" I couldn't help myself. I replied that yes, actually he does, and that his wines aren't all that bad. They immediately pegged me as an out-of-towner and asked if I was from California. When I answered affirmatively, they pummeled me with questions about their mystery wine, because "all Californians know about wine".
Neither of them knew the maker nor the type of wine they were looking for, but they both kept saying something that sounded like "rinuti" and "abrusco". Hmmm. Sounded Italian. I told them that I am no wine expert, but that I wasn't familiar with a wine called "rinuti abrusco" (I know now, after Googling it, that abrusco is a type of grape indigenous to Italy). I asked them to describe the taste, hoping that I could at least pick out a similar wine for them. They said hey weren't sure if it was white or red, but that it was fruity and very sweet. "Ick," I thought. I quickly picked out a bottle of Ecco Domani pinot grigio for them. I hoped it would be acceptable and that they wouldn't be cursing me later.
Later in the evening at the DJC family Christmas party, I noticed a HUGE jug of RIUNITE LAMBRUSCO wine. Oh. My. God. The women were actually asking for Reee-yooo-nee-tee wine! Riunite! Hilarious!! When I told my story to DJC's dad, he laughed and said that those ladies were more likely to find their Riunite at a gas station as Sendik's probably didn't even carry it. Love that I sent them away with a pretty decent bottle of pinot grigio... and they listened to me because all Californians supposedly know about wine. I bet they were so pissed later in the evening. LOL. Classic.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Metropark and Jersey Shore
Ok, I'm OBSESSED with MTV's latest trainwreck TV show, Jersey Shore. It is possibly the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. I should hate it. Instead, I cannot turn it off. I find myself watching old episodes over and over because they're just that goddamn entertaining. The plot, its not that interesting. In fact, its a pretty blatant rip-off of The Real World (seven randoms picked to live in a house and have their lives taped...and attempt to work to earn their free digs for the duration of the show) that's been done 20 or so times already. Its the freaking people that make Jersey Shore so damn amazing.
First off, they all have nicknames. Nicknames like "Snooki" (the roommates sometimes call her "Snickers"), "The Situation", and my personal fave, "Jwoww". Yes, that's "Jwoww" with TWO Ws. Brilliant!! Awsome nicknames aside, its the personalities of the cast that keeps me coming back for more. They're like walking cartoon characters. I find Snooki to be absolutely mesmerizing and the rest of the folks to be completely fascinating as well. Their hair, their tans, their penchant for fist pumping at clubs, their clothing...all so totally interesting. I'd post pics for you all to see what I'm talking about, but they look pretty much as normal as anyone in still photos...except WAY more tan.
I couldn't help thinking about the clothing earlier today when I was shopping with B-rice and AG. We wandered into a store called Metropark. Before today, I'd never heard of this store. After taking a brief survey of the clothing offered, I understood why. SO not my style. Over the top, graphic, Jersey Shore-ish T-shirts, pants and jewelry. And I wasn't alone in my feelings...B-rice looked at me and said, "All I can think of when I look at all this stuff is Jwoww." Hilarious and so true! All of the clothing...soooooo, ummm, Jersey. I mean, I've heard of brands like Affliction before, but now all I can see is The Situation and DJ Pauly D sporting that shit after hitting the tanning salon. No me gusta. We did get a good laugh out of it, though. I honestly can't see why anyone would wear stuff like that, but fashion is a personal thing, I guess.
(As an aside, I walked by J.Jill today and spotted a poster imploring shoppers to "Embrace COLOR!" I looked around quickly and all I saw were muted pastels and beige. COLOR?! Hardly.)
But back to Jersey Shore for a sec...if there is only one hot mess of a TV show that you watch this season, this HAS to be it. My god, its brilliant. Reality TV gold. And MTV even has all of the episodes online, so there is no excuse for not checking it out. You'll laugh, you'll pump your fist in the air, your jaw will drop, and you will feel good about yourself and your life choices. Everyone wins!!
First off, they all have nicknames. Nicknames like "Snooki" (the roommates sometimes call her "Snickers"), "The Situation", and my personal fave, "Jwoww". Yes, that's "Jwoww" with TWO Ws. Brilliant!! Awsome nicknames aside, its the personalities of the cast that keeps me coming back for more. They're like walking cartoon characters. I find Snooki to be absolutely mesmerizing and the rest of the folks to be completely fascinating as well. Their hair, their tans, their penchant for fist pumping at clubs, their clothing...all so totally interesting. I'd post pics for you all to see what I'm talking about, but they look pretty much as normal as anyone in still photos...except WAY more tan.
I couldn't help thinking about the clothing earlier today when I was shopping with B-rice and AG. We wandered into a store called Metropark. Before today, I'd never heard of this store. After taking a brief survey of the clothing offered, I understood why. SO not my style. Over the top, graphic, Jersey Shore-ish T-shirts, pants and jewelry. And I wasn't alone in my feelings...B-rice looked at me and said, "All I can think of when I look at all this stuff is Jwoww." Hilarious and so true! All of the clothing...soooooo, ummm, Jersey. I mean, I've heard of brands like Affliction before, but now all I can see is The Situation and DJ Pauly D sporting that shit after hitting the tanning salon. No me gusta. We did get a good laugh out of it, though. I honestly can't see why anyone would wear stuff like that, but fashion is a personal thing, I guess.
(As an aside, I walked by J.Jill today and spotted a poster imploring shoppers to "Embrace COLOR!" I looked around quickly and all I saw were muted pastels and beige. COLOR?! Hardly.)
But back to Jersey Shore for a sec...if there is only one hot mess of a TV show that you watch this season, this HAS to be it. My god, its brilliant. Reality TV gold. And MTV even has all of the episodes online, so there is no excuse for not checking it out. You'll laugh, you'll pump your fist in the air, your jaw will drop, and you will feel good about yourself and your life choices. Everyone wins!!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Finally...
Back in 2007, on a blog that no longer exists, I wrote about The Slanket. I joked about the lameness of the item...a blanket with sleeves! HA! Silly! And yet, I really wanted one. Like badly. But I just couldn't pull the trigger.
Then, over the years, the inferior Snuggie rose in popularity while the Slanket seemed to lose steam as America's favorite gimmick. Having read this very informative article, I knew there was no way I was going to succumb to the airplane blanket quality and static of the Snuggie. Hell, I relentlessly teased my friends who owned Snuggies. And those RIDICULOUS Snuggie commercials with that stupid dance?! Hell naw. It was the Slanket, or nothing at all. They were still available online, but again, I couldn't pull the trigger.
After demo-ing a Slanket at DJC's mom's house over Christmas, I knew the time had come. When I came home, I ordered one and anxiously awaited its arrival. The day it came, I literally giggled with glee. I eagerly unboxed my moss green beauty and immediately put it on. I then experienced what can only be described as a most excellent feeling of comfort and warmth.
What followed was an extended session of ass-planting. Its strange...its like the Slanket saps my will to do, well, everything. Grocery shopping, classes at the gym, the basic need for food and water...all usurped by the need to just chill. I am so comfortable and warm and LAZY when I am wrapped in its fleecy threads. Its like a big, soft, fleece hug. You know...its one of those hugs where you don't want to be the first person to let go. I think I want to be buried in my Slanket. The feeling...its simply divine. So soft. So gentle. Lovely.
I know I'm raving like a lunatic about a freaking blanket with sleeves, but if you think I'm nuts, its only because you don't have one and could never understand what I'm talking about until you do. I can't believe I waited over two years to finally purchase one. If you're pondering whether or not the Slanket is for you, I can tell you that it is. It absolutely is. You don't even know what you're missing. Order. DO IT. DO IT NOW. You can thank me later. =)
Then, over the years, the inferior Snuggie rose in popularity while the Slanket seemed to lose steam as America's favorite gimmick. Having read this very informative article, I knew there was no way I was going to succumb to the airplane blanket quality and static of the Snuggie. Hell, I relentlessly teased my friends who owned Snuggies. And those RIDICULOUS Snuggie commercials with that stupid dance?! Hell naw. It was the Slanket, or nothing at all. They were still available online, but again, I couldn't pull the trigger.
After demo-ing a Slanket at DJC's mom's house over Christmas, I knew the time had come. When I came home, I ordered one and anxiously awaited its arrival. The day it came, I literally giggled with glee. I eagerly unboxed my moss green beauty and immediately put it on. I then experienced what can only be described as a most excellent feeling of comfort and warmth.
What followed was an extended session of ass-planting. Its strange...its like the Slanket saps my will to do, well, everything. Grocery shopping, classes at the gym, the basic need for food and water...all usurped by the need to just chill. I am so comfortable and warm and LAZY when I am wrapped in its fleecy threads. Its like a big, soft, fleece hug. You know...its one of those hugs where you don't want to be the first person to let go. I think I want to be buried in my Slanket. The feeling...its simply divine. So soft. So gentle. Lovely.
I know I'm raving like a lunatic about a freaking blanket with sleeves, but if you think I'm nuts, its only because you don't have one and could never understand what I'm talking about until you do. I can't believe I waited over two years to finally purchase one. If you're pondering whether or not the Slanket is for you, I can tell you that it is. It absolutely is. You don't even know what you're missing. Order. DO IT. DO IT NOW. You can thank me later. =)
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