Home sick

I've just been hit by another life lesson.

Don't order sushi from a delivery place. Or maybe just don't order chinese anymore at all since Colin is pretty sick too.

I didn't make it into work because I haven't been able to get away from the bathroom for longer than 20 minutes all morning. I did stay away for about an hour though when I fell asleep around 10. I woke up thinking I might actually be able to make it into to work for a half day until I ate a small bowl of frosted mini wheats and repeated my morning in the bathroom all over again.

For some reason I'm not one of those people who gets sick and fully loses their appetite. In fact, I'm pretty hungry right now but I'm scared to death to eat anything.

Didn't sick days used to be a kind of cool thing? It's a legitimate excuse to stay home from school and lay around all day watching TV. It's not like that anymore. All I can think about now are the sick days I'm using and how I won't get over time and all the bills I have to pay.

It seems like every lesson I learns only points to the fact that being a grown up sucks.

Welp....it's that time again...the RR is calling.

ugh. ugh. ugh.

Hi, I'm five!

I learned today that an apple is one of the worst things to bring for lunch. They are deceiving though so if you’ve made the same mistake I have today, you aren’t really to blame. You never think about how messy or annoying an apple is when you’re eating it at home because when you’re at home you don’t care if your face is covered in apple juice and your hands are stickier than a toddler’s. You also don’t really register how annoying it is to get the apple skin stuck in your teeth because you’ve got floss only feet away. However, there should be a warning label that lets you know, as delicious as apples are, they are not…I repeat NOT a good thing to eat in front of your co-workers.
 
I grabbed one this morning on my way to work, a Fuji to be exact. Fuji apples are the kings of apples and I can literally eat one for a meal and not be hungry until it’s time for the next meal. It seemed like such a genius idea when I was leaving. It wasn’t messy, it didn’t take any preparation and I didn’t need to carry it in anything because it’s naturally packaged! Then comes lunch time and I bring out my apple buffed and ready to eat and it hits me….crap I’m going to have to take a huge bite to get this thing started. I look around at my fellow lunchies as they put civilized bite size pieces of food in their mouths. I take a deep breath, hope no one is paying too much attention to me and I dig in. The first bite was a little less than successful. Despite my efforts I wasn’t able to get a piece of apple free. I did that thing where you try to take too big of a bite and you have to retreat leaving huge teeth marks and try again. On the second try I was only able to wriggle a small piece free and I had apple chunk stuck in my bottom teeth along with apple juice running down my chin. I quickly wiped my face and dug in once more. The third bite covered more ground, but also resulted in more apple juice all over my face and hands. By the time I finished the apple I was in desperate need of floss and a face wash, with no means to do either.
 
If I weren’t so lazy I would have cut the apple up and brought it to work in slices, but the whole appeal of the apple in the first place was that I thought no preparation was needed. If I’m going to take the time to put a lunch together I’m going to at least make a sandwich, which  I’d do tomorrow if we had any bread.
 
Being the optimist that I am I like to find a silver lining…so…Upside to bringing an apple: I didn’t have to leave the building for lunch so I made it back to the conference room before anyone else in my group and got to dance around and sing out loud.
 
Life is good.  

Drive by cupcaking!

I am a lover of food shows, especially the reality ones where people duke it out with their baking and cooking skills to be the next top/great baker, chef, or…whatever. I also love how when I watch them I’m suddenly transformed into some kind of food expert. I begin to say things like… “Seriously!? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe she/he would even think that truffles would taste good with that! Pfft!” When, honestly, up until I started watching the show I only knew truffles as a delicious chocolate treat. (And to be quite honest I’m still a little confused as to what these other truffle imposters really are) My knowledge of different ingredients is limited to what is on my spice rack, and I honestly can’t imagine using half of them on a regular basis. I fancy myself knowledgeable in different foods because I’ve had sushi…and that’s really about as adventurous as I’ve ever been.
 
Anyway, point is…I got sucked into the season finale of The Next Great Baker this week which left me totally jazzed about cupcakes and cookies with no where to go. That is, until Colin decided that it would be a good time to tell me that the runner-up on the show, Megan, (who should have won) actually has a bakery (Legacy Cakes) right on main street! Unable to wait another day I decided that an impromptu drive by cupcaking was in order. I got my mom involved and told Colin to meet us there. Suddenly I was on high alert at work. I was pumping out paperwork like nobodies business. In all of my anxious excitement I felt like the kid from Despicable Me yelling “IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE!”
 
When my mom picked me up at lunch I hurdled toward the car, jumped in and yelled HIT IT! Let me just say, that lunch hour was probably the most exhilarating hour of my life. I had to have burned off the calories for 4 cupcakes just from all the jumping I did. I was so pumped the whole way I couldn’t stop jabbering and when we got to the shop I literally hopped/jogged/sprinted to the door. I bought a dozen of the most delicious cupcakes I’ve ever had. I mean…I’ve never had a lemon cupcake with frosting that tasted every so slightly of lemon. It was perfect and I’m probably going back after work and tomorrow….and maybe next week, and the week after that….
 
I wonder if I could work there for cupcakes….
 
I think Colin described the cupcakes perfectly when he said, “My mouth is in a sensory overload. I feel like there’s a party inside a party inside a party in my mouth.”
 
Props Megan Rountree; your cupcakes rock my taste buds!
 

Wal-mart lady knows I've done the deed....

Yesterday I went to Wal-mart on a mission. I needed to find a really good massage oil to use on Colin’s back because he hurt it at work so bad that even standing was a painful task. As it turns out the only heating massage oil available is made by KY and it doubles as a lubricant. I didn’t really think anything about the lube part, I was just happy that I found a massage oil that might actually help relax Colin’s back. I even did a little fist pump when I found it, with no sexual connotation behind it at all.  

Since I was already on my awesome wife kick I figured I’d be double awesome and get some stuff to make spaghetti for dinner. After everything was said and done I unloaded my basket at the register with my sexy spaghetti, bottle of wine, and lube (massage oil dang it!) and the cashier’s eyes lit up.

“Plan on making a nice dinner tonight?” she asks with raised brows.

“Uh…yup…” I say awkwardly wondering why this lady is looking at me with her brows raised like that.

“Well,” she says with too long of a pause. “I hope you have a great night!” (I swear if I had been standing right next to her she would have done that elbow shove thing that only friends should do)

Right then is when I realized she had seen the MASSAGE OIL (dang it!) and created an evening in her mind where I would be playing some Marvin Gay, clicking on my romantic scentsy burner, and having a GRAND time. So I said…

“Oh yeah!” enthusiastically with a wink wink and with two fingers crossed I finish sarcastically with, “Let’s hope for twins!”

Ok, so I didn’t say the twin thing, but it would have been pretty funny! I was actually just too stunned to really look at her so I said thanks with a “you know it” undertone. There was no point in breaking her lusty heart, it’s not like she would’ve believed the truth anyways.  

I wonder if she’d be disappointed to know that I spent the night massaging Colin’s back while forcing him to watch Cougar Town and one of my favorite romantic comedies until we were both so tired we just fell asleep.

It is Ironic, I do think!

I’m having this strange back and forth between seeing ironic things in my life and having old 80s and 90s songs seem relevant for the first time, which has resulted in me feeling a little bit crazy.

“Everybody’s working for the weekend.” I sure as hell am. All I think about all day is how much longer I have before I get home and how many more days until the weekend, which brings me to the ironic…or rather pitiful truth about life. The week that you work so hard to get through moves so much slower than the weekend you’re trying to enjoy that you feel completely gypped. Then, if you’re lucky enough to have a fast work week you can plan on having an even faster weekend which really just puts you into the next week that much quicker. Soon, you’ve seen what feels like millions of weekends go by with nothing to show for, and still as if by some sick joke it’s literally only been a month since Christmas, when you could have sworn this cold front was actually the coming of an entirely new Christmas season. 

Then you’ve got the double whammy “Ironic” which points out and makes you keenly aware of all of life’s unfairities. Like, for instance, the fact that I woke up early this morning and finally had time to make breakfast so I wouldn’t starve until lunch, and then a woman brings breakfast for everyone in the office. Or, the fact that the only way I can lose weight is by eating a bunch of protein which, unless it’s completely lean and full of DELICIOUS fiber, is actually horrible for my heart and stops up my booty. So, I can either die young, skinny and constipated or live a full life as a chunk.

In an effort to cause some of life’s irony rather than being a victim my sister and I purposely created an awkwardly ironic situation when we went to Uptown this weekend. (Uptown is an awesome town-squarish type place with cool shops and a HUGE Barnes & Noble that I love). Anyway, there is a park in the middle of all these shops, one of which is a fantastic gelato place called Pacciugo’s where we get ice cream just about every time we’re in Uptown. On our way to get our tasty treat, we herd what sounded like a live band and we got excited. (We’re music junkies) Instead, we came up on the park to find a a boot camp demonstration in progress, which was more amusing than anything else.

A local work out facility had decided to have a party to introduce their new boot camp, and they hired an angsty pop band to put the soundtrack to their show. It was hilarious. There was a mess of boys with swoopy hair and skinny jeans playing one song in an unenthusiastically boring loop while a chunky guy in a spray painted white track suite and sweat band rapped about getting fit and encouraged a man who was jumping rope by saying “Jump rope jump rope jump rope” over and over and over again. I think it really helped. “New year, new you” was their clever and completely original slogan. We had a nice time watching them from the comfort of our lawn chairs while eating gelato. We received several “Now that’s just wrong’s” as people passed by us. I could just see the lust in those boot campers eyes as we enjoyed that heavenly dessert.

I think the highlight of the whole shebang was when they played Mary J. Blige’s “Fine” during the female portion of the trial run. I deemed “Fine” long ago to be one of my favorite “jam” songs. (I can’t get enough of those Wooo!’s and varying Fine’s) I’m fine (fine) FINE fine (fine) FINE fine WHHOOO!

I definitely left their motivational demonstration with a valuable lesson: as fit as I’d like to be, I never want to look as goofy as those boot campers. Oh, and, it’s actually a really good ab workout to sit and laugh at other people trying to work out.

What the hell is that smell!?

I was sitting on the couch a few weeks ago when I got a wiff of the worst smell EVER. I about died when I discovered it was my feet and truthfully...I don’t even think Dr. Scholl’s can help me now....

Having a real job has done irrevocable damage not only to my sleeping and exercising habits, but also to the softness and the smell of my feet. Up until a few months ago my feet had lived a very cushioned life. And I mean that literally. For the past 21 years my feet have only ever worn comfortable shoes ( aka tennies or some conversish like model) that allow the wearing of socks to absorb any hint of an odorous sweat, or flip flops which make for a nice and breezy non-stanky foot.

I was so proud of my soft and odor free feet that I would flaunt them in front of my mother while getting pedicures, because she, unfortunately, is more of the Flinstone persuasion. (Love you mom!) Callus removers were never needed on my baby feet! And I would show them proudly to strangers on the daily. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

Now that I’ve got a real job my feet are stuck in some sort of high-heeled torture chamber or fo-leather sweat box (or a combination) leaving my feet with crunchy calluses that are locking in this funky sweaty smell. I’m worse than a man who works outside all day in boots, and I know this because my feet trump my husband’s and he works outside all day in boots….sweating…and still, mine are worse.

I think I would be willing to accept my work’s shoe requirements if anyone other than the people on our floor ever even saw my feet. I work for a large corporation, but I see customers never times a week and I sit in a cubicle in the farthest darkest corner from the door on the 14^th floor. I would slip my shoes off under my desk and stick it to the man if they didn’t have a permanent funk to them that makes me want to barf.

One day the world will realize that one’s ability to do their job is in no way tied to what shoes are on their feet and I will be able to wear my comfy Asics to work and not have to clean my feet for 30 minutes every day as soon as I get home.

What’s more likely to happen though is that in a few years my feet will be so callused that they can’t even sweat to create a funky smell. (barf) I’ll have to boycott shoes all together because my foot will have such a large sole that they won’t fit in any shoe.  

This post in not for dudes. Trust.

First let me start by saying I’m sorry for being a major slacker and not posting. I promise to do better by you in the future….

Last week I finally tackled one of my many ridiculous fears, the lady doctor. Bum bum bum! 

See, my first experience was everything I ever feared it would be: violating, too long, and painful…but mostly it was painful…well and too long, and really embarrassing. As if I didn’t already hate sitting in the lobby they bring me in and the first thing they do is weigh me. I mean seriously! (I had a friend tell me once that her lady doctor told her she needed to lose weight and I was DREADING the scales) I hadn’t even had a chance to make good with my new years resolution to lose weight before they depressed me with the truth of how massive of a mass I was. How rude. Then the nurse asked if I was sexually active to which I replied “NO!”  about 5 times before she would actually believe me. Apparently I was the only 21 year old virgin on the face of the planet. (true love waits yo!) Then, my doctor talked to me in his office for about 15 minutes (more like forever)  before the actual exam, which only made my suspense and fear grow until I had so much chest pressure that I was just waiting for an alien to pop out all Sigourney Weaver style. When the exam finally happened I couldn’t keep my legs from clamping together. The doctor would tell me to spread them and I would move my feet farther apart and draw my knees in closer. After about 30 minutes, 2 good cries, and some baby breathing exercises later I was finally able to wobble out of there with my head hung low.

For the record, I am completely aware of the fact that the reason my first appointment went so dismally was because I’d basically set out for it to be from the moment I stepped in the office. So, this time I was determined to at least breathe slowly on my own without having to be asked. I tried to make everything about the day go smoothly. I took precaution and scheduled the appointment early so that I could make sure to be as fresh as possible. (I have a completely unwarranted phobia of the doctor doing my exam and then telling me that I’m completely abnormal and I smell funny, so I HAVE to be sure.) And I prayed and gave myself pep-talks every 5 minutes without fail.  (Basically, I was in a never ending cycle of prayer and pep)

Surprisingly as if it were some kind of miracle I ended up having the best appointment ever! I’m not going to say I enjoyed it, because that would just be weird, but I have to admit that I’m totally not going to sweat it next time. I’m sure Colin was thrilled as well, since he didn’t have to hear another hour long traumatic story about how my childhood had been ripped away from me in less than an hours time. (So I’m a little over dramatic…he needs to know the pains I will suffer when we have babies okay? Don’t hate.)

I have to say…I think my new year is off to a great start, my diet is in full effect (my wobbling over-exercised legs are proof) and I’m defeating my fears. Just call me Wonder Woman from now on.