A Month? Already???

Wow. So it's been over a month since I've blogged. I can't even begin to imagine what I've been doing during that month. So let's consult the calendar...It appears that what I mostly do is work, school, eat, and sleep.

I've  got some exercise in there as I have a weekly Zumba class every week. This week I went to a 2 hour Zumba class on Friday night. It was supposed to distract me from the fact that I should have been halfway to my parents' house but wasn't allowed to. I usually love Zumba class. I feel energized and healthy afterwards. So a 2 hour class would have really kicked some ass! But when we started, I became really bored. I wasn't sweating like I do during my normal workout with my normal instructor. I'd barely touched my water as I hadn't needed it. It became evident that the four female instructors were more interested in showing off their dancing skills than they were at teaching our routines. Well, that's not exactly true. 2 of the girls were teaching the routines and 2 of the girls were more interested in showing off their skills. During certain numbers where you shake your hips a lot, these two girls would tie scarves with jingly bits on them around their waste. Since when do we need props to exercise? Plus, there was no warm up nor was there any cool down which I think is completely wrong. On top of that, they instructed everyone that if they needed to rest that there were plenty of chairs to sit on. In my experience, you are not supposed to exercise, sit down and rest, and then get up to exercise some more. Needless to say, my back hurt this weekend because I wasn't properly stretched out before and after. Oh! And one of the girls that was more interested in showing off her dancing ability rather than teaching the exercises has the...most...annoying...voice! And when she wasn't "instructing" she felt the need to stand next to me and exercise. I just couldn't get away from that voice!

The other exciting thing that happened to me was singing with the boys of Airiel Down. Beaux (the lead singer) has been talking to me about singing with them for a few months. When he finally gave me the date of the big night, I was terrified initially for a few reasons. Firstly, this was going to be the first time I'd sung a solo by myself in 15 years. Sure, I'd been taking lessons but was I ready for this? Couple that with the fact that Beaux says he has no time to rehearse before the night. This equals Heather freaking out. But as the time grew nearer and I'd practiced every single day I got more comfortable with it. The performance went off splendidly. Beaux & Steve really know their stuff! And I got bitten...by the show bug. I can't wait to sing again! My next performance will be open mic night on December 7th.

And that's about it. I've had the typical, usual stressors that I usually have including completely scheduling a big trip up to Michigan for Thanksgiving only to have the rug pulled out from under me and a few other issues. I also have a few big decisions ahead of me. My most constant thought is: "Do I live by my credo: 'leap and a net will appear' or do I stick it out as is?" Is God putting me through all this stuff to make me stronger or is he saying: "Hey, daughter of mine, move your tookus already! How many signs do I have to give ya girl? Are you dense??"

So happy Thanksgiving constant reader...I plan on spending it with some old friends that I haven't seen in ages and participating in traditions that remind me of home since I can't actually be there.

Unraveling

I haven't blogged in a long time. And for that matter I haven't read any blogs in a while. It's because I'm unraveling. Sometimes I feel like I'm falling apart at the seams. For a solid year now I have been working full time along with going to school full time. It's taking its toll. I am constantly exhausted. I fall asleep at my desk at least once a day if not three times. Most of these are on my breaks but I'm a person who never needed naps before. Not even when I was a little girl! My mom told me I didn't have to sleep as long as I stayed on their bed and played Barbies. But now I've turned into a person that naps at almost every available moment. I've gotten to be a pro at napping too. I can manage to take a 5 minute nap while still being acutely aware of my surroundings (this is usually needed at work). I never had an internal alarm clock but all of a sudden I do when needed. On weekends I've been known to sneak in 2 naps a day. I feel like all I do is work, study, sleep, and run. I'm usually nauseous on a daily basis and getting burnt out.

Today I was wondering how my mother obtained 2 Masters' degrees and operated on 4 hours of sleep. And then I realized...she has a husband! Can I hire one of those? I only managed to do one load of laundry this week and that was just the wash. I never got around to drying them so this morning I wore a semi-wet shirt to work. My house is a mess. I won't invite anyone over right now because I haven't managed to find the time to clear the clutter on the kitchen table or the end table beside my couch. I'd better do it soon because next weekend I'm having a whole slew of people over for a cookout/birthday party. I'm way too exhausted to even feed myself properly. My fridge mostly consists of finger foods that I can grab and go.

And did I mention the running/exercise program I do 6 times a week? And the voice lessons every week? Or the constant keeping track of calories? And the incessant practice I do whenever I'm in my car in preparation for singing with 2 different local Raleigh bands in the near future? Oh, and I almost forgot helping out my friend obtain her Master's degree by editing her papers. I agreed to do this at the beginning of my own Master's program when things weren't so hectic. Or the person at work who is always asking me when I'm going to cook for them again. I'm being stretched way too thin...something's gotta give. I'm finding it difficult to focus at work and not focusing well on my school work either. Today I found myself staring out my office window for a solid 5 minutes. I'm not proud of this. I have a great work ethic so this is very abnormal behavior.

So universe, here is what I want. I want you to figure out a way where I can quit my job, take on a part-time waitressing job to cover the bills and be allowed to spend my days giving my all to my studies. Then, right as I graduate, I need a high-paying job so I can move into an apartment of my own. I need a great benefits package too. Thanks a bunch in advance!

Calling Dr. Love

Last night I went to a KISS concert. What started out as tickets on the lawn ended with All Access backstage passes, a meet 'n greet with KISS and front row access throughout the entire concert. My ears are still ringing.

To start at the beginning, my friend Beaux has a band called Airiel Down. They are local but they have played all over the world including having a song at the Olympics and their songs air in many other countries. I found this band when they were opening up for Jani Lane (Warrant) in Greensboro. I usually hate opening bands, but everyone has to start somewhere! But these guys were good. REALLY good. I bought their CD that night and listened to it the whole way home. For some reason, Beaux remembered me when I friended him on Myspace and loved the name I'd picked out on there: "Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Cherry Bomb!" This was a reference to Joan Jett's song (from the Runaways) as well as a reference to the change in color of my hair. He now refuses to call me anything but some form of Cherry Bomb. Kinda cute. So that's how we've kind of become friends. I'm a huge supporter of his band. So when they entered a contest against other Raleigh bands to garner a position as the front runner for KISS, I was all over it. Getting people to check them out and vote for them. They came in second place but KISS personally picked them. I precisely bought my lawn tickets to the show.

I invited my friend Kelli (also my vocal coach) as I figured that she would enjoy it since Beaux referred her services to me in the first place. She agreed and got excited but it was premature. She'd completely forgotten that she had already committed to performing at a child's baptism that same night. So I put out a search for anyone who wanted to go to the concert with me. Pete answered that request. He picked me up and we are on our way to get some cheap lunch. We first stop at Chick-fil-a, not realizing it's Sunday and all of a sudden his phone rings. He says: "Who is calling me from area code 312? Ignore!" We realize Chick-fil-a is closed and head over to Wendy's. His phone rings again from the same phone number. Pete: "I'm gonna pick it up." So he stops the truck and answers the phone. All of a sudden he says: "Well, I've got one other person with me right now." and then he punches me in the arm. What the?? He gets off the phone and announces that Paul Stanley has left 2 tickets and backstage passes for him at the Will Call desk. Woooooohooooo!

We park in VIP parking and head up to grab our tickets. By the time we get back, there's this really nice couple beside us who we instantly become friends with. Time for the concert so we head in and quickly discover that having All Access passes gets you two things. #1 being the obvious, we get access to everywhere. Backstage (which pretty much consists of a hallway where nothing is really happening), and pretty much anywhere you want to go. Because what happens is you start walking towards a blockade and people just wave you through. In fact, if you're waiting in a line, they will wave you over to another section to get through so you don't have to wait. The #2 thing it gets you is dirty looks from everyone not wearing a pass. We check out Beaux's band for awhile and then head backstage after they finish to congratulate him. I get the biggest hug and a look like: "What are you doing back here?" He thought I only had lawn seats. He tells my friend Pete what a great girl I am and we exchange compliments over each other's hair. He says he wasn't sure if he would see me since I had lawn tickets and it's a big lawn!

After this we head out to the lawn area and begin texting various people we knew would be there including our new friends from the parking lot. We decide to head up to the 96 Rock Party Deck and meet up with another friend, James, who'd promised me a beer. Meanwhile, this chick trips and falls flat on her face. There was a whole line of us sitting on the bench in front of where she fell. I was the only girl. And I was the only one to jump up and help her too. Shortly after that, a man walks by yelling: "Heather! Heather!" No one is answering so I say: "Hi." This gets a laugh and an explanation that I'm a Heather too. All of a sudden Pete & I notice that it's about 7:30 and we ought to head down to our meet n' greet with KISS. As we leave, the other Heather tells me to enjoy the show. This is what I love about concerts. Between helping the girl who fell and the other Heather, everyone is so friendly. Well, until some of them get drunk, act stupid, and piss off the other drunkards.

We get in line to meet KISS but are quickly ushered over to another line. We have red wristbands and therefore we'll be meeting them first. We get brought into a tent and everyone is excited! I'm shaking so bad, I can't believe I'm going to actually meet them! They walk in one by one we are placed in front of them for pictures. It's my turn. Oh my God, oh my God, omigod!!!!! All I can do is look at them with this dumb look. Gene Simmons opens his arms and I think he's going in for a hug so I hug him. Turns out he was only putting his arm around my neck. Oh man, I'm SUCH a dork! Afterwards I'm so shaky I can't even walk. The whole experience was so surreal.

Then the concert begins and I can't stop jumping up and down when they come out on the stage. Pete turns to me and says: "Hey! We know those guys!!!!" After one or two songs, Pete heads up to the pit area and tells me to try in a few minutes. So halfway through the next song I saunter up there, flash my pass, and I'm IN! I'm so close I can touch the stage! Tommy Thayer is playing just for me! He is, isn't he? I keep smiling at him and giving him the thumbs up, grooving to the tunes and he flips a signed pick my way. Unfortunately it landed on the OTHER side of the barrier and I can't reach it. Thankfully Pete is tall and was able to just reach it. He hands it to me and I immediately drop it again! Thankfully it landed closer this time so I got the pick! Paul Stanley is flinging the picks like crazy. However, I do not want one of Paul Stanley's picks. He has a habit of licking them first or putting them in his mouth and spitting them at you. I'm just too much of a germaphobe to grab at one of those.

Now a lot of people have sort of boycotted them since there are only 2 original members of KISS in the band. But I kinda fell in love with Tommy Thayer and his guitar prowess so who freakin' cares? The dude totally paid his dues. In fact, he was in a KISS tribute band and they noticed him. Gene Simmons asked him to be his assistant and he took the job. He was running his ass off for the guy. So when Ace Frehley left the band, Tommy was their first choice. And he rocks!

My ears are still ringing and I feel hungover even though I only had one beer. Woke up with a killer headache today too. Totally worth it!

Gene Simmons

  

Paul Stanley

Tommy Thayer

Eric Singer

The Downside of Being Single

I've already learned my first lesson regarding the downsides of being single and it's only been a week and a half since I attained this status. Getting sick. It sucks to be single when you're sick. You can't just lay around on the couch all day watching Lifetime Television while someone brings you juice, food, tissues, and a cold washcloth for your forehead. This was illustrated in an episode of Sex in the City when Samantha gets sick. She practically cleans out her little black book, eliminating men she's slept with, because they turn her down when she asks them to come over take care of her.

When I was contemplating a divorce, a former friend took it upon herself to counsel me. She had gone through a divorce herself and she felt it pertinent to tell me about how it sucks to be single. Well, at least it did for her. She regaled me with stories of how miserable she was. She warned me against separating from my husband, "because there are just things around the house that you need a man to do. I mean, what if you need a really heavy box moved? None of the men I was sleeping with wanted the responsibility of moving a heavy box for me." My reply was, "so you're suggesting that I should stay married, despite the fact that I'm miserable, because someday I'm going to want a heavy box moved?"

I actually felt sorry for this woman (still do) because her personality was not of the type that makes it easy to remain friends with her (hence the "former friend" moniker I attached to her description). I mean really, she mentioned that she had been sleeping with men, plural. None of those men cared enough about you to help you move a box? I decided to ignore her advice because I am the type of person to keep friends around, including male friends. Most of my friends adore me and would happily help me move a heavy box if I asked.

So because of the "Samantha Gets Sick" episode and the misguided advice of this "friend," I've decided to institute a policy in my life. No matter where I am currently living, I am going to volunteer to stop by a friend's house after work when I know that they are sick and heat them up some chicken soup and watch a movie with them. If they need help around the house that they can't do alone, I'm going to help them. We singletons have got to stick together...

I went home from work early on Thursday because I'm sick...so who wants to come over and take care of me? :)

So I guess it'll be chicken soup for every meal for awhile. *sigh*

Baby Bjorn

I went to a baby shower this Saturday. It was one of those Sex & the City moments for me where I was the only chick there who hadn't popped out at least one kid. And I had no one along to keep me company. Like I said, I was the only one who wasn't a mother.

The conversations were like a different language to me. I tried to make the polite conversation and asked how old their kids were, etc. But the convo stopped after approximately one question because I had no idea how to respond. When asked: "How old is he?" one mother stated: "He's 23 months." I said: "Oh, so he's almost 2." Her: "23 months." I don't get the whole 15 months, 82 months thing. I thought the counting of months stopped after the kid turned 1. Apparently I was wrong. So when does it end? When will I get to stop doing math in my head: "Okay...so 17 months means he's almost a year and a half..." I completely understand that these "month" milestones mean something about the kid developmentally. I get that. But why do I care? I haven't the slightest clue as to what month a kid starts talking or walking, etc. Am I supposed to blurt out: "Oh, so he's walking, talking, and making boom boom in the toilet now because he's 36 months old?" Or "Wow, he's walking already? He's only 5 months old. That's fast!" I don't have a clue and I hate how it makes me feel stupid. When presented with a "month" age, my eyes start to glaze over and I just say: "Oh, uh huh. That's great. Cute kid."

After speaking to my mom about this conversation, she said: "She just didn't want her baby to grow up. 23 months is saying that she doesn't have a 2-year-old yet." Which this makes sense because after telling the 2-year-old's mother that I didn't know what "23 months" was supposed to mean she laughed and said: "Well yeah, he's still 1." I exercised amazing restraint by not saying: "Well, he really is closer to 2. You might as well just say almost 2."

Other conversations included this one mother's experiences with garage saling. She has a nemesis. It's a woman she sees around town at all of the same garage sales and she can't stand this woman because she buys up all the cheap stuff early and then sells it on ebay. Yet this first woman will buy the stuff off of ebay off of the nemesis. She even asked her once: "So how much are you gonna charge me for these on ebay?" And the way she asked it was sort of snide like she was doing something wrong! I wanted to say: "Hey, if I were a stay-at-home mom I'd do the same thing to get some extra income!"

Another complaint by the above mother regarding her nemesis: "I bought a baby bjorn off of her and it was all stained and torn blah blah blah" First of all, I have no idea what a baby bjorn is other than one quarter member of ABBA as an infant. I didn't even know he was for sale. And look at that beard. He's bound to be stained because of that crumb catcher. What'd ya expect? :) Second of all...okay there really is no second-of-all. I'm still mystified as to what a baby bjorn is to have a second-of-all. When I heard the word "Bjorn" I almost blurted out: "Oh I love him. Waterloo is my favorite. Fernando comes in 2nd place..."

There were a host of other topics that just had me completely confused. Despite all the talk over various baby-related stuff, I had a great time. Mostly I go to these things to contemplate why someone would want a cake made out of diapers (seriously, what does cake have to do with diapers?). Or that in order to push a stroller anymore you have to first figure out the riddle of the Sphinx (we spent an hour showing the mother all the various functions...there are way too many options on how to place your baby in a stroller nowadays. You can't just stick him in there anymore. You must study sun placement and whether you want to look at the baby or does the baby want to look at the world, etc). But mostly I go for the food. The delicious baby shower spread that is always put out there for you to graze upon. It's hard when you have friends that are in a different place in life than you are. And then there was cake and all was right with the world.

Research

My current class is frustrating me. I'd just gotten off of a six-week trek into the bowels of Master's level Statistics and was excited to get back to a course that meant I could write. I did have to write some in Statistics and I enjoyed that. It was almost a relief to have all the mathematical answers because then all I would have to do is write them up into sentence form. That was the easy part. So now I'm in a class called Applied Research in Organizational Leadership. Blech. I'm not even excited about writing. Today it took me approximately 12 hours to finish a 2-page paper. Part of my problem was finding articles to support my research topic. I'm notoriously bad at finding articles that support my theories. I wish that everyone would just believe whatever I say without having to have back up. This would help me out a lot. But top that with the stringent rules about having scholarly research articles and we have a recipe for me pulling all of my hair out. My thumb is so cramped from hitting the left button on the mouse to scroll through the tons of articles in my search it's going to be sore tomorrow. My professor is a hard evaluator. Part of the first week is figuring out what that specific instructor is nitpicky about. I had one that despised it when you anthropomorphized things. You couldn't say: "The article states" because an article cannot physically state anything. This one is a stickler for almost everything. I know it's supposed to make me a better writer, etc but I'm a  person that focuses more on content rather than semantics.

Another reason I'm not excited about writing in this course is that I really am not all that interested in the subject. I have no desire to perform research in my future career and I highly doubt that I'm going to have to formulate a research proposal someday. These words may bite me in the end as I had once said "I'm never taking statistics again" only to be enrolled in advanced statistics for my Master's degree. So let's just say that I do not intend to get into a career that includes conducting research.

To add to all of this, I have been pretty cranky this past week. Having to deal with people who are cranky without their office air conditioning, car troubles, and some money woes have made for one cranky chick. Usually I deal with this by being really quiet and going to my happy place (you get there by diving to the bottom of a margarita glass). This week it was all too much and I started becoming quite vocal about things. I mean, why did you have to lean over to me and ask me to ask the girl at the front of the line if the elevator call button was pushed? Can't you do that yourself? You're in your 40s, be independent! And why did that guy have to stand so close to me in the elevator even after several people had gotten off creating room for him to move? I know I smell good and all but I have no desire to breathe in your skin flakes. And why can't that friend ever pick the time and place where we should meet for dinner? Why must I do this every single time?

There was a little span of time between 7PM Friday night to 9PM Saturday night where I was not cranky at all. This can be referred to as the time between when an ice-cold beer in a frosty mug was placed in my hand and the start of writing my paper for class. I almost gave up on finding two scholarly research articles and decided to forfeit the two points it would cost me. I was that frustrated. And now my back is sore from sitting to type up my paper and the shiatsu pillow I bought can only run for 20 minutes or else it might overheat. Did I mention that my roommate's cologne is making me physically nauseous?

But tomorrow is another day, right? And our fearless heroine lives to fight the good fight. :)

Interesting...

Heard these facts on the radio the other day. Really interesting stuff. My comment sin italics.

1. If you're a married American, your marriage is between 40 and 50 percent likely to end in divorce.

Wow...we're doomed right from the start, huh?

2. If you live in a red state, you’re 27 percent more likely to get divorced than if you live in a blue state.

Yup...red state central here. LOL

3. If you argue with your spouse about finances once a week, your marriage is 30 percent more likely to end in divorce than if you argue with your spouse about finances less frequently.

4. If your parents were divorced, you’re at least 40 percent more likely to get divorced than if they weren’t. If your parents married others after divorcing, you're 91 percent more likely to get divorced.

I find this fact really interesting. If your parents remarry others after divorcing YOUR divorce rate jumps. Wonder why...

5. If only one partner in your marriage is a smoker, you’re 75 percent to 91 percent more likely to divorce than smokers who are married to fellow smokers.

6. If you have a daughter, you’re nearly 5 percent more likely to divorce than if you have a son.

Dang! Why they hatin' on us gals? 

7. If you're an evangelical Christian adult who has been married, there’s a 26 percent likelihood that you’ve been divorced—compared to a 28 percent chance for Catholics and a 38 percent chance for non-Christians.

8. If you live in Wayne County, Indiana, and are over 15 years old, there’s a 19.2 percent chance that you've been divorced.

9. If you’re a woman two or more years older than your husband, your marriage is 53 percent more likely to end in divorce than if he was one year younger to three years older.

10. If you’re of “below average” intelligence, you’re 50 percent more likely to be divorced than those of "above average" intelligence”

LOL no wonder Americans are doomed. ha

11. If you’ve been diagnosed with cervical cancer, your likelihood of getting divorced is 40 percent higher than standard rates; it’s 20 percent higher if you've been diagnosed with testicular cancer.

12. If you have twins or triplets, your marriage is 17 percent more likely to end in divorce than if your children are not multiple births. .

13. If you’re a female serial cohabiter—a woman who has lived with more than one partner before your first marriage—then you’re 40 percent more likely to get divorced than women who have never done so.

14. If you're in a male same-sex marriage, it's 50 percent more likely to end in divorce than a heterosexual marriage. If you're in a female same-sex marriage, this figure soars to 167 percent.

Yowza!

Tuesday Blues

Okay, so this should have really been posted yesterday but I was way too busy to even get online! Or maybe I just forgot. I'm in a million places lately.

Monday night is when I usually post my responses to my classmates in my class. I'd planned to finish reading the assigned chapters, post my comments, take a shower at 9PM and be in bed at 9:30 by the latest. I got to bed at 10:30 PM and I didn't get to take that shower. So I ended up taking my shower on Tuesday morning because frankly, I really needed it. LOL Unfortunately, I took way too long in the shower because the hot water felt sooooo good. So I'm running a bit late and for some reason I am having a bad body day. Okay, hold up, hold up. My bad body day started on Sunday because I recently came off my wheat-free vegan diet and promptly went to Sweet Tomatoes (Souplantation for you west coasters) and ate a big salad with some cheese and ranch dressing. It wasn't really all that much. But I guess it was enough to send my tummy into shock. So on this Tuesday morning, everything that I tried on seemed to accentuate my tummy. I looked 6 months pregnant in everything. And since I'm the busy little college student I hadn't had time to do laundry in about two weeks so my only pair of fat pants were in the laundry...dirty. I raked through my closet and saw an old pair of fat pants I hadn't worn in years so these would be my really fat pants. Threw them on along with a blue t-shirt. That's when I realized that there is a hole on each inner thigh. Being as I don't have time to search for any more fat pants I make the decision to wear them anyways just making sure my legs stay closed at all times (mom would be so proud). I still look pregnant with the t-shirt so I decide I have to wear a sweater. Where's my good sweater?!?! No time to find it so I grab the only black sweater I can find. It's my ratty black sweater I wear around the house.

Onto my hair. No time for the InStyler so my natural schizophrenic hair will have to do. I call it schizophrenic because it has two personalities. Technically it suffers more from MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder) but schizophrenic hair sounds so much more interesting than MPD hair. My dad has dark straight hair. My mom has blonde wavy hair. So my DNA decided to mix and match by taking one trait from dad and pairing it with one trait from my mom. The result=dark wavy hair underneath and straight blonde hair on the top. They NEVER match! I either have to make the top layer wavy to match the bottom or straighten out the bottom to match the top. InStyler gives me the best of both worlds but it takes some time. So being pressed for time, I just style the bangs and off I go to work.

Socks. I need socks. Again, the laundry dilemma seems painfully apparent. I grab two very different black socks (one an anklet and one of calf height) and figure "no one is gonna see them anyways." Wouldn't you know that that is the day a girl asks me about my ankle tattoo and why I don't have any tattoos on the other ankle (it's because I have scars on that one due to surgeries where they put metal in there...Heather go boom boom once upon a time). So of course she had to see my socks!

The day was way worse...but for legal reasons we won't get into that. :)

The Vegan Experience

So I decided to become a vegan for 8 weeks starting January 2010. Not just vegan, but wheat-free as well. I had been upset with my efforts at weight loss and figured this would jumpstart things. In the months before my decision, I’d watched “You Are What You Eat” with that awful Gillian McKeith. I had no idea why I wanted to listen to her. She was judgmental and mean yet her clients all lost about 2 stone (24 lbs) in an 8 week period of time. So I figured what did I have to lose? Hopefully 24 pounds!

I did a lot of research regarding the various fruits and vegetables, vitamins and minerals. But part of my problem was that I am a really picky eater. Even though my taste buds have been opening up in my thirty-fourth year, I am still selective about what I choose to eat. So I went into the whole experience vowing to eat more vegetables and trying to find vegan substitutes for the foods that I liked. I experimented with wheat-free, dairy-free macaroni and cheese. I also tried wheat-free, dairy-free lasagna and cookies. Some stuff I liked and other stuff was disgusting.

The first day wasn’t so hard. I was happy with the smoothies, soy burgers, and nuts. By the second week I kept smelling meat and chicken broth that no one else could smell. Also during this time, I started craving the pepperoni pizzas my roommate made on a nightly basis (this is no joke…every night). I don’t even like pepperoni but I swore that I was going to order one as soon as this experience was over.

At the beginning of the third week, I’d discovered these delicious wheat-free, dairy-free cookies. They were really good! Especially the chocolate chip kind. But I’m still craving the meat and dairy that I used to eat. There are really good substitutes for some things, but other things just can’t measure. As I type this, one roommate’s delivery pizza from Papa John’s arrived. The scent of cheese, pepperoni, green peppers, and dough waft over and envelop me. I feel like tackling him to the ground and eating every last bit of that pizza. Gorge myself. Mmmmmm…


Weeks four through five were really rough. I was getting tired of this regime and frankly, while I was still technically a vegan, I started venturing into the junk food side of things. I loved salt and vinegar potato chips, and experimented with candy that was vegan. As a result, I didn't lose quite as much as I wanted to. But still, 15 pounds in 8 weeks isn't too bad for a woman over 30. And so many times I wanted to cave. So many times I was a grouch because I wanted to eat "real" food. All I needed was a damn sandwich!!! 


Around week 6 I started to freak out. I knew that the time was coming when I could partake of FOOD again and it was coming fast. Would I just go crazy at a buffet and gain the hard won 15 lbs back on again in one sitting? I started to evaluate myself and what I'd learned on this whole journey. Of course with some good talks with Sara, I determined that I needed a step-down process. I devised a plan that I would become a vegetarian for a week. Then add fish the next, follow it up with chicken the week after that and then finally beef. I don't really eat a lot of pork because it disgusts me so I don't see where I need a plan for that. 


So where does that leave me? Am I going to be a carnivore? Vegetarian? Vegan? I've decided to become a flexitarian. I'd decided at the beginning of this adventure that I would only consider giving up a food if there was a vegan equivalent that tasted just as good. Milk--Vanilla Almond Milk is DELISH! Cheese--no good substitute and I won't give it up. Beef--MorningStar Garden Burgers are really tasty but I won't give up beef altogether. 

The ultimate lesson I learned--salads SUCK when there isn't any cheese or chicken on them. So perhaps I'll eat more salads now apres-vegan than I did while vegan!            

The Black Eyed Peas Concert

The Black Eyed Peas concert, E.N.D. (Energy Never Dies) was pretty awesome! Looking at the seat placement ahead of time, I figured that the seats weren’t going to be all that great. It was sort of the side view of the stage. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers! Plus, they were a lot better than the seats I’d had approximately 10 years ago for the Billy Joel/Elton John concert in the same arena. That time, I was behind the stage and way up in the nosebleed section. This was a whole level lower and from the side. Score!

LMFAO and Ludacris started the show off.  LMFAO wasn’t all that great. They apparently started off on MTV’s The Real World, deejaying their parties and such. They were mildly entertaining. Ludacris came on and the crowd went wild. I’m not all that familiar with Ludacris’ music but it was crazy hilarious to watch all these white people trying to dance to his music like they were crunk or something. The funniest group was a group of three girls that later turned into five girls. The first three girls dressed like they were going to the club. And while I’m not a good judge of age, I figured that they were college students but not old enough to drink just yet. One girl was very pretty but seemed really shy. She was standing but not really dancing like her cohorts. The second was pretty as well but did not know how to wear a dress to a concert. It was strapless so every time she sat down it would pull down, exposing her bra. The third was dancing as if she were at a bar and trying to attract the guys. To give further proof that she thought she was at a bar, she was sporting a tight tank top and her belly was pooching out suggesting that she’d had a steady diet of beer. I’m not one to talk. I’ve certainly enjoyed a beer here and there. But I do not let my “pooch” hang out in public! To add to this, she seemed like she was drunk, probably drinking at home before the show. She fell asleep halfway through the Black Eyed Peas portion of the concert. I cannot fathom falling asleep amidst all that noise. Guess she was pretty wasted. Then the other two girls showed up. One was pretty uninteresting but the other, was wearing a baseball cap backwards and when she would lean forward you could see she was sportin’ a serious whale tale. And this particular girl kept tentatively trying to touch the other girl. At one point she put her hand up into her hair and rubbed her neck, which the other girl shrugged off.

At this point, we decide that we’ll have a better vantage point and more room if we move over to the section that hadn’t been sold for the concert. We could stretch out, put our feet up, and not have to view the concert through the sorority girls’ butt shakes. The concert was amazing. The four members have so much talent! Listening to will.i.am rap as fast as a locomotive was impressive. But their songs are just genius, too. Fergie’s outfits are interesting to say the least.

The whole set had a futuristic feel. This made me realize…that futuristic stuff scares the crap out of me. Robots, talking green faces on a monitor announcing what’s going to happen next, and dancers in unitards that cover their faces in a geometric pattern scare me silly. I bought the CD and cannot look at the cover. I have no idea why. I saw a robot at the State Fair this past fall that would sing songs and dance around. My first reaction was “oh cool! Look at that thing!” But when I got up close to it my reaction quickly changed to “oh my God, get that thing away from before it crushes the life out of me!!” I’m sure that if anything close to iRobot happened, I’d totally be on Will Smith’s side of things. Ain’t no way I’d be able to trust a robot living in my home, waiting on me hand and foot, knowing all my secrets. It would freak me out.

The Robot from the Fair that scared me.

So…that was my Friday night. Nothing but a rocking concert mixed with a little terror. Good thing I had those far away seats…

Can ya believe I hadn't had anything to drink that night?? I look totally drunk.

Octomom

I know I'm sort of late on the game here. But you really can't blame me with all I've got going on in my life. I have 14 saved Chelsea Lately's on my DVR. I think I've watched 2 or 3 so far today. So I'm catching up. The episode I'm on right now talks about Octomom's new bikini body. How is this possible? Consider the before pictures...

This tummy is HUGE! Not to mention all the stretch marks and veins she's sportin there. So how on earth did she end up looking like the picture below WITHOUT plastic surgery (as she claims)?

Chelsea Handler makes the observation that her bellybutton looks like a coin slot. I wonder what would happen if you slipped a quarter in there? Would you hit the jackpot but it only pays out in babies??

So I just want to remind Nadya Suleman of one important thing...

World's Greatest Dad

***Spoiler alert!!!***

I don’t cry very often. So it takes a lot to make me cry. The only reason I cried while watching The Notebook was because I was being forced to watch it. But something about Robin Williams being sad makes me well-up something fierce. World’s Greatest Dad, I didn’t have much hopes for. But it turned out to be great. I love me some Robin Williams. He’s a genius! But I don’t think I’ve seen him in enough dramatic roles. This movie displays his acting talent in a whole new light. Perhaps I’ve not watched enough dramatic Robin Williams movies but this was the first time I’d seen him in a sex scene or run through the halls of a school stripping his clothes off and diving into the pool naked. Is this really Robin Williams’ penis we’re seeing??? (I’m guessing it was a stunt penis)

The movie, written and directed by Bobcat Goldthwait, starts off showing us the type of relationship Lance Clayton had with his son Kyle. Kyle is a jerk. He’s disrespectful to his father, treats his best friend like a skycap, and is obsessed with deviant porn. No one likes him at school, either. Lance is an aspiring writer who has had four books rejected. He’s dating a teacher at school but lately she’s been paying attention to someone else. His life isn’t what he thought it would be. He’s starting to feel like a failure, especially when other people succeed on the first try what he’s been trying his whole life to accomplish. Then Kyle dies…while masturbating. And to save him and his son embarrassment, he sets the death up like it’s a suicide and writes a note to go with it. But no one seems to care. His girlfriend, who has always wanted to keep their relationship a secret, is becoming more distant. He has no one to reach out to; no one at the school feels the need to go to grief counseling because of Kyle’s death.

            But then someone decides to publish Kyle’s police report and suicide note in the school newspaper. Suddenly, the whole school makes it absurdly clear just what a bunch of douche bags they are. Seriously, what kind of person gloms on to another person’s grief? Everyone cares about Kyle now. He is the hero of the school. Lance’s once failing poetry class is now always full of kids taking the class just to find out more about Kyle. Kids who were once trying to pass off the lyrics to the Bowie/Mercury tune “Under Pressure” as poems are now capable of long, tortured elegies regarding Kyle. Lance gets inspired and writes a diary under Kyle’s name. This has a chain reaction. He’s almost happy that his work is being distributed even if it isn’t under his own name. He gets invited to be on a national talk show and the school dedicates a day to Kyle. When Lance gets up on stage, he finally can’t take it anymore. He blurts out the truth that Kyle died while masturbating and he is the one who wrote it the diary. Of course, everyone who seemed to care so much about Kyle now is upset with Lance. His girlfriend slaps him and clings to another man, and everyone is angry. But this is the very thing that seems to free Lance. It’s like he was making a huge fool out of everyone, they just didn’t know it. But to me, it was beautiful. None of them actually knew Kyle (except for his best friend) so everyone was idolizing someone just because he died. They never took the time to get to know him while he was alive.

            So bravo Bobcat and Robin…you’ve made me well up like no other. Or perhaps I’m just getting older and more sentimental. Either way, brilliant!