Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
A SoCal Bucket List
Before I exit this world into the abyss of the unknown great beyond, there are a few things that I'd like to see/do/achieve.
Obviously I want to live to a ripe old age. I want to see my kids graduate college, get married and have kids of their own. I figure these milestones are a given and therefore aren't included on this bucket-o-mine. So, without further ado, here are the things I'd like to accomplish before I make my own Jet Blue exit out of this world.
~Be in a flash mob.
~Read an entire novel in one day.
~Go on a hot air balloon ride.
~Write a novel.
~Sing Karaoke in a dive bar.
~Ride a bull. Not a real one, one of those mechanical contraptions will be sufficient.
~Make my own wine.
~Go on a cruise.
~Get a tattoo.
~Learn how to crochet and actually be good at it.
~Run in a 5K and finish without dying.
~Learn a foreign language (French or Italian).
~Travel to either France or Italy and totally butcher their language as I try to put what I've learned to good use.
~See the Grand Canyon.
~Take a road trip with the family in a RV. This is one I'll probably end up saving until last. Otherwise we all might kill each other and then I won't be able to cross the rest of the crap off my list.
~Swim in the middle of the ocean.
~See a volcano.
~Learn how to fix a leaky faucet.
~Meet somebody famous. I stood next to Bob Barker on the Price is Right stage, but I need more than that.
~Meet some amazing friends of mine who I've never "officially" met before.
Obviously I want to live to a ripe old age. I want to see my kids graduate college, get married and have kids of their own. I figure these milestones are a given and therefore aren't included on this bucket-o-mine. So, without further ado, here are the things I'd like to accomplish before I make my own Jet Blue exit out of this world.
~Be in a flash mob.
~Read an entire novel in one day.
~Go on a hot air balloon ride.
~Write a novel.
~Sing Karaoke in a dive bar.
~Ride a bull. Not a real one, one of those mechanical contraptions will be sufficient.
~Make my own wine.
~Go on a cruise.
~Get a tattoo.
~Learn how to crochet and actually be good at it.
~Run in a 5K and finish without dying.
~Learn a foreign language (French or Italian).
~Travel to either France or Italy and totally butcher their language as I try to put what I've learned to good use.
~See the Grand Canyon.
~Take a road trip with the family in a RV. This is one I'll probably end up saving until last. Otherwise we all might kill each other and then I won't be able to cross the rest of the crap off my list.
~Swim in the middle of the ocean.
~See a volcano.
~Learn how to fix a leaky faucet.
~Meet somebody famous. I stood next to Bob Barker on the Price is Right stage, but I need more than that.
~Meet some amazing friends of mine who I've never "officially" met before.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Let's Get Ready to 5K!
I'm going to start this off by saying I absolutely despise exercise. Any shape/way/form of exercise, I loathe it. I used to love yoga until that was ruined for me by a pair of extremely loose fitting shorts. Zumba turned out to be a once a week, ass kicking embarrassment.
Don't even get me started on the embarrassment that is going to the gym. I'm afraid one of these days I'm going to have an aneurysm trying to figure out how to work all of those damn buttons on those damn machines. However, I'm a lean mean biking machine, at least I am on the bikes at the gym. I tried going for a bike ride through my neighborhood and I thought I was going to have to call Bryan to come and pick me up. I would of called him if I'd of had my phone on me. Instead I had to hop off my bike and schlep it home.
I have found some motivation for my lack of exercise love. A few months ago I made a bucket list (which I will unveil in a few days) and on that list I said I wanted to run in a marathon.
The other week I stumbled upon an add for a 5K called Run for your Lives. They describe it as, "A Zombie infested 5K obstacle course race." At first I got a good chuckle out of the idea, but the more I thought about it I started seriously considering running in the race. A couple days after first looking at the site, I decided I was in! Really what better motivation to help you run a race than having a zombie hot on your heels. Plus it's going to be great training for the future zombie apocalypse.
The race is a year away, which is good because I'm going to need every minute of the next 11 months to get into zombie running, ass kicking shape.
Yesterday we went to a birthday party inkiddie hell 2, I mean Pump it Up. I used this opportunity to begin my training. After all, running through an inflatable obstacle course, trying avoid a sea of children, is pretty much exactly like trying to avoid being eaten alive by zombies. Despite the fact I kicked a ten year old in the chest while trying to slide under the inflatable wall, day one was a giant success.
On a side note, when the zombie apocalypse does happen and if I do fail and get turned, I might be okay. Especially if I look like this as a zombie:
I make one damn fine looking zombie, if I do say so myself.
Don't even get me started on the embarrassment that is going to the gym. I'm afraid one of these days I'm going to have an aneurysm trying to figure out how to work all of those damn buttons on those damn machines. However, I'm a lean mean biking machine, at least I am on the bikes at the gym. I tried going for a bike ride through my neighborhood and I thought I was going to have to call Bryan to come and pick me up. I would of called him if I'd of had my phone on me. Instead I had to hop off my bike and schlep it home.
I have found some motivation for my lack of exercise love. A few months ago I made a bucket list (which I will unveil in a few days) and on that list I said I wanted to run in a marathon.
The other week I stumbled upon an add for a 5K called Run for your Lives. They describe it as, "A Zombie infested 5K obstacle course race." At first I got a good chuckle out of the idea, but the more I thought about it I started seriously considering running in the race. A couple days after first looking at the site, I decided I was in! Really what better motivation to help you run a race than having a zombie hot on your heels. Plus it's going to be great training for the future zombie apocalypse.
The race is a year away, which is good because I'm going to need every minute of the next 11 months to get into zombie running, ass kicking shape.
Yesterday we went to a birthday party in
On a side note, when the zombie apocalypse does happen and if I do fail and get turned, I might be okay. Especially if I look like this as a zombie:
I make one damn fine looking zombie, if I do say so myself.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Big Fat Liar
That's me alright. The other day I was waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store and I noticed the lady in front of me was working up a sweat while getting her groceries onto the counter. She had a toddler in the cart and a baby in the carrier at her chest. I was totally fixated on her, couldn't take my eyes away. I started at her, all the while secretly enjoying the fact that since my kids are now in school I can shop without them.
It is so glorious to walk through the aisles of my supermarket without having to yell at somebody to stop touching things, to stop whining and "No! For the millionth time you can't have that! You don't get anything!"
She caught me looking at her and I felt bad, for a split second. Then I started grinning like an idiot again while thinking of my blissful childless shopping. She looked back at me once again with a look of total defeat on her face, so I decided to snap out of my fantasy and talk to her.
Me: "How far apart are they?"
Other Mom: "A little over two years. Do you have any kids?"
Me: "Oh yeah. Mine are 23 months apart."
OM: "Please tell me it gets easier."
She looked completely lost, exhausted and ready to throw in the towel. She had the smallest little glimmer of hope in her eye, I couldn't extinguish it. So I bit my tongue and tried to hide the sarcasm in my voice, "Oh yeah, it sure does get so much better."
The cashier, clearly a motherhood combat vet as well, looked at me like I was nuts (which of course I am). She knew I was lying to this poor woman. I looked back at the cashier and shrugged my shoulders. Come on lady! Was I really supposed to tell her all the thoughts that were fighting to escape my mouth:
- Yeah it gets easier as they get older. That is until they join forces, form the ultimate kid alliance and start voting you out of the family (just ask Bryan how many times he has been voted out of the family).
- You'll never again get a moment to yourself in the bathroom. You aren't even going to be able to pee without somebody screaming outside of the door wanting to know what you're doing in there.
- You're going to develop a serious wine habit, or as I like to call it a new found appreciation for wine. You'll become well known in the wine aisle next to your good friend "Two-Buck Chuck."
- You may as well quit cleaning now. No matter how much you clean, your house is always going to look like a fucking category 4 hurricane went through it.
- For some unknown scientific reason, the second you reverse out of your driveway something is triggered in your kids. This phenomenon causes them to start yelling and fighting with each other. The main argument is going to go something like this: "Stop looking at me, stop looking out my side! MOMMY he/she touched me!"
- The fights that start out in the car will spill out to your final destination; Target, IKEA or the library. These are just some of my kids favorite places to embarrass the hell out of me.
If any of those thoughts would of escaped my mouth, she would of run from the store screaming like a maniac, never looking back. Instead she smiled at me as she walked away, a little more hopeful. I smiled back and muttered "good luck" under my breath.
It is so glorious to walk through the aisles of my supermarket without having to yell at somebody to stop touching things, to stop whining and "No! For the millionth time you can't have that! You don't get anything!"
She caught me looking at her and I felt bad, for a split second. Then I started grinning like an idiot again while thinking of my blissful childless shopping. She looked back at me once again with a look of total defeat on her face, so I decided to snap out of my fantasy and talk to her.
Me: "How far apart are they?"
Other Mom: "A little over two years. Do you have any kids?"
Me: "Oh yeah. Mine are 23 months apart."
OM: "Please tell me it gets easier."
She looked completely lost, exhausted and ready to throw in the towel. She had the smallest little glimmer of hope in her eye, I couldn't extinguish it. So I bit my tongue and tried to hide the sarcasm in my voice, "Oh yeah, it sure does get so much better."
The cashier, clearly a motherhood combat vet as well, looked at me like I was nuts (which of course I am). She knew I was lying to this poor woman. I looked back at the cashier and shrugged my shoulders. Come on lady! Was I really supposed to tell her all the thoughts that were fighting to escape my mouth:
- Yeah it gets easier as they get older. That is until they join forces, form the ultimate kid alliance and start voting you out of the family (just ask Bryan how many times he has been voted out of the family).
- You'll never again get a moment to yourself in the bathroom. You aren't even going to be able to pee without somebody screaming outside of the door wanting to know what you're doing in there.
- You're going to develop a serious wine habit, or as I like to call it a new found appreciation for wine. You'll become well known in the wine aisle next to your good friend "Two-Buck Chuck."
- You may as well quit cleaning now. No matter how much you clean, your house is always going to look like a fucking category 4 hurricane went through it.
- For some unknown scientific reason, the second you reverse out of your driveway something is triggered in your kids. This phenomenon causes them to start yelling and fighting with each other. The main argument is going to go something like this: "Stop looking at me, stop looking out my side! MOMMY he/she touched me!"
- The fights that start out in the car will spill out to your final destination; Target, IKEA or the library. These are just some of my kids favorite places to embarrass the hell out of me.
If any of those thoughts would of escaped my mouth, she would of run from the store screaming like a maniac, never looking back. Instead she smiled at me as she walked away, a little more hopeful. I smiled back and muttered "good luck" under my breath.
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