10 Random Things I will Never Understand

1. Why do people say, "to make a long story short" and then the story seems to get longer and longer?
2. Why do people allow their nail polish to get so ridiculously chipped? Just remove it already.
3. Why do grown ass men walk around in public with pigtails and house shoes?
4. What is the purpose of a belt if your pants are below your ass?
5. If you are wearing sandals, shouldn't you invest in a bottle of lotion for your heels?
6. Why is R. Kelly not in jail?
7. Is fifteen minutes of fame really worth kissing Flavor Flav?
8. Kanye West?
9. Why do men hold on to your phone number for years and years after they blew the relationship.
10. Why do people always say, "you didn't gain weight over night so don't expect to lose it over night," when in reality, you can gain 5 lbs over a binge weekend and it will take you a good month to get rid of it.

Breed wisely

Everyone woman has a knucklehead in her past that she thanks her lucky stars that she never got pregnant. The thought of having to deal with a fool for 18 plus years is pretty horrific. As we say, a bullet was dodged.

Unfortunately, there are far too many women (and men) who aren't so lucky. Some only get hit by the bullet, while others pretty much load the chamber, put the gun up to their chest and pulled the trigger.

I am always amazed when I see and hear about folks who have children with crazy people. The subject is near and dear to my heart because I work with children that would be far better human beings if they had different parents (mother/father or both).

So this morning I was reading the news online and listening to NPR when I both read and heard that Mel Gibson has confirmed that his 28 year-old girlfriend is indeed pregnant. Ewww. Do you really want alcoholic, anti-semetic, divorced, bitter, angry, crazy, 8-times baby daddy to be YOUR baby daddy? I think Mel would qualify as a bad breeding choice.

Even without the the above mention flaws, let's look at Mel. Eww. He is so not Mad Max or even Riggs at this point. Let's face it. He is old, crusty and gross. He is just plain too old for this shit!

LA Marathon

So every year the City of Los Angeles puts its residence on house arrest for a couple of hours on a Sunday. It's called the LA Marathon. After spending one Sunday a few years ago driving in circles trying to find a way to just get across the street, I decided that for future marathons, I would prepare to stay at home and do nothing that day.

This was all fine and dandy when the Marathon happened on a random Sunday in March. However this year it was moved to Memorial Day. So now I would be held hostage in my home on a holiday Monday when I would rather be outside, hiking, having brunch, or just enjoying a day away from work. Needless to say, when I discovered that my Monday was shot, I became very bitter and have done nothing but complain.

This morning over breakfast, I decided to turn on the marathon, since I was trapped in the house, just to check it out. For the first time, I was actually mesmerized. Part of it has to do with the fact that in the last year I have attempted to join the ranks of runners. I have ran/walked two 5Ks in the last six months. I have gotten my pace to about a 13 min mile doing intervals of running and walking. My goal is to get to a straight running 10 minute mile.

So you have to imagine how completely impressed I was watching the pack of women Elite runners in what appeared to be sprinting. A few blocks away from my house marked mile 13. These women were at mile 13 in less than an hour into the race. Crazy. Not to mention, the runners looked as if this speedy pace was no big deal. Like it was easy breezy.

During my first 5K in January, pictures were taken. You can see the sheer agony and stress on my face. I was only running 3 miles and my pace was about 14min/mile. I was dying. It was all over my face. But these athletes astounded me.

So I think its safe to say that I won't be as bitter about next year's marathon. Who knows, I may even show up to whatever mile marker is near my house and cheer the runners on.

Stuck in my head

This morning I woke up with a song in my head. It was a song composed in my subconscious whilst I slept. The lyrics were, "Oh cucumber, oh cucumber. I'll never find another like you." Not sure what or who that's about.

One man's junk is another man's are you frickin kidding me?

I was on my way to get my eyebrows waxed at about 10:30 this morning, and hadn't gotten even a 1/2 mile from the house when I had passed not one, not two but 4 yard sales. Or Junk Sales as they appeared to me from my car.

It reminded me of a comment a former acquaintance once made saying, "when you drive by yard sales in your neighborhood, you realize those people have the same junk you have." Well in the case of this morning, my junk is better than their junk. WAY better.

There was one place where they had vacuum cleaners, carpet cleaners, mattresses and my all time favorite item: a pair of PINK men's dress shoes. Was this a going out of business Pimp Sale?

As I returned home later around 1:30pm the other yard sales in the area had wrapped it up for the day, but the Pimp Sale was going strong. And much to my surprise, the pink shoes had not moved.

Strapped to the wagon

I am one of those obsessive people who weighs myself everyday. Every single day. It doesn't make me feel bad, it doesn't necessarily make me feel good. It just keeps me focused and in check.

Well in the last couple of weeks I have completely blown off the idea of weight loss. Although I've talked the talk, there has been no walking what so ever. It started off with a slight cold, which prevented me from working out since I couldn't breathe. Then came a bout with sadness that drove me to stuffing my face with everything in sight. The more fried and chocolatety the better. Then as if it couldn't get any worse, it was "that" time of the month, which only gave me more license to stuff my face. Nothing like a salt and chocolate mixture. I do recall pouring my Nestle Crunch Bunches over my popcorn while watching Star Trek and being in PMS heaven.

The days started off nice and healthy. I made a healthy lunch, ate a healthy breakfast and was ready to go. But by 3pm, I had indulged in too much of everything else.

So obsessively, I continued to get on the scale and saw the number creep up. I said to myself, that's ok, I'll be back on track tomorrow. The ritual went on for about two weeks. The scale was pretty steady so my stress level was low.

Then came this past weekend. I skipped yoga on Friday, skipped hiking on Saturday morning, ate and drank Saturday nite and Sunday nite. So I have avoided the scale for the last few days. Until this morning.

Has your scale ever spoken to you? Well mine did this morning. It said, "you fat ass heifer, stop eating and get your ass to the gym" Have you ever stepped on the scale and were so shocked and flabbergasted by what you saw that you immediately jumped off? Kinda like turning your head and closing your eyes when someone is about to crash or fall? That was my response to my scale this morning. YIKES.

So here were are at 4:30 pm. Not only have I eaten healthy and within reason today, I went for a walk/run after work and will be leaving the house in a minute to do a yoga class.

Sometimes we need our scales to be mean to us in order to get us back on track. It's unfortunate that it has to come to such name calling, but hey, what can you do. You can always tell the scale to kiss your fat ass and keep on going, but I don't know if that will solve the real problem.

My first blog

I have been told by friends that I should start blogging. Clearly someone wants to hear what I have to say. So tonite at another attempt to avoid school work, I signed up and here I am blogging. So what the heck am I suppose to blog about?