Friday, February 24, 2012

I'm leaving at 3 to pick apples

My gut hurts from laughing so hard. Please watch all the videos on the Bad Lip Reading YouTube channel.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Wanna bet?

I've been working with a personal trainer for a few months now at our local gym. Not trying to lose a bunch of weight, rather I just want to tone and de-jiggle a few areas. My metabolism isn't what it once was in high school, where my diet consisted mostly of personal sized pizzas, chocolate chip cookies and Payday candy bars from the vending machine at work. My exercise routine back then included walking to and from said vending machine and making googly eyes at my then boyfriend. Not exactly intense calorie burners.

Over the summer the hub and I started hitting the gym together and overhauled our eating habits. By the time I started with my trainer, my upper body was pretty close to where I'd like it to be. My boobs have by now disappeared, but let's face it, they arrived tardy to the puberty party and since then their presence had been less than satisfactory. Anyway, in our session today, we focused heavily on lower body. We were working on squats (with a barbell & weights on each end) when the hub walked by and said something to Trainer. Once I finished what I thought to be my last set of squats, I went to get a drink and came back to find a 45 lb plate on either side of the bar. The heaviest I've ever attempted. Trainer proceeds to tell me the Hub said he didn't think I could do it. Now, before this moment, I never would have considered myself a competitive person. "I would very much rather not take you up on that footrace, kind sir. Let's just assume you indeed are faster than me and let's go get some Pinkberry instead, mmmkay? Fun for everyone!" However, in that moment, with Trainer behind me and the hub watching out of the corner of his eye, I couldn't say no. I proceeded to knock out 10 reps (admittedly, with some assistance). But I did them. Done. Complete. I turned to give Trainer the customary & congratulatory high-five, and then he tells me, "He didn't really say he didn't think you could do it. I just wanted to challenge you. But it fueled you right?!" Right he was, and duped I was. I fell for it. But you know what, who cares? Because in that moment, I made that bar my bitch. (Oh, and I still don't know what the hub said, and I really don't care.)

Thursday, February 16, 2012

A glimpse

This is what the not-so-near future holds:

The Hub holding my cousin's child.
Seriously? How hot is he? And yes, while I love the image of his scrumptiousness holding a baby, I don't want that to be for another few years. Even so, I don't think my biological clock can handle this photo. Excuse me while I push the snooze button.

Stuff the Hub Says

  • "These must be hi-def sheets because I can totally feel your foot."
  • "I have some kind of disease and I need to cure it." 
  • "Partial zero emmissions vehicle, huh? Well I'm a partial billionaire."
  • Me: "Wanna make out?" Him: "With you?"
  • "Marry, fuck, kill: pancakes, French toast, or waffles?"

Thursday, February 2, 2012


Rarely do I come across a voice like this. One that is so natural and un-processed and so unlike the auto-tuned drivel that gets pumped through my car stereo. There's something about raw musical talent that reaches into my chest and grips my heart in a way that moves me to tears. And after the week I've had, I couldn't have asked for a better song to stumble upon.