Simon Says

me: I do whatever Jeanne tells me.
x: Really?
me: Yes.
x: What if she told you to jump off a cliff? Would you do it?
me: Yes. But why is she telling me to do that?
x: But you'd do it?
me: Yes. But once again, why is she asking me to jump off a cliff?
x: It doesn't matter. You'd do it anyway.
me: It does too matter. Why is she asking me to jump off a cliff?
x: I can't believe you're such a sheep.
me: Yes, but you didn't answer me. Why is she asking me?
x: I don't know.
me: Right. See? And besides she wouldn't ask me to do that in the first place either.
x: You sure about that?
me: Yes, and you still haven't answered why is she asking me? I'm sure she has a very good reason for doing so if she did.
x: Sigh
me: Seriously? Why is she asking me to jump off a cliff?
x: I'm done.
me: No, hey come back here! Why is Jeanne asking me to do that?
x: Never mind. You do whatever Jeanne tells you.
me: Yes! (snort) And you think I'm the stupid one. That's the point I was trying to get across the entire time.

Big Green Monster

Has anyone ever told you they "never get jealous?" Or they aren't the type to be threatened, and they say it all smug like, "you can't phase me."

That is a bold faced lie. They might not realize it yet, but no one is immune to it. Because I have dated the "I never get jealous" guy, and it is UG.LY when it happens. And the worst part, he typically takes it out on you. Mainly because he's being confronted with an emotion he doesn't understand, and he reacts to it by basically being an ass. (oh yes, this is unfortunately a first hand experience.)

I'm not immune to, oh hell no. Perfect example, I was bartending a banquet and there was a new server. She was pretty, laid back, kind of a guys girl, and was trying to get a music career happening. She was my boyfriend's dream girl and I knew it. I immediately didn't like her. It didn't matter I knew he would never cheat on me. I also don't know what her opinion on my boyfriend was in the first place. Didn't matter, not one bit. I saw her as a threat, didn't like her, did not want to get to know her, and I didn't want him around her either. When she moved to NY, I was not one bit sorry to see her go. My boyfriend had no idea this was going on, it wasn't until she came up in a conversation months later I told him I didn't like her. He was shocked because I'm actually a pretty cool girlfriend and don't care if my guy has some female friends. But I'm human, and jealousy is a very human emotion.

And sometimes, I think a little jealousy can be a good thing, because it makes you aware of what you have. I have used it before as a means of getting attention and gauging interest. It's worked on occasion, but it is very, very tricky. It is playing with fire, and I've gotten burned before. It's also an immature way to go, and it really never works the way you originally intended.

I will admit to being jealous, even if it doesn't happen that often. If there's a threat, you will react to it somehow. So when someone (ok, a guy) tells me they aren't a jealous type, I snort and think sure buddy. You've just never had anything worth to be jealous over

Gender Roles

I took a gender roles class at uc and loved it. So when presented with a class very similar to it at UK, I said sign me up! (and it fit my schedule this semester, rock). I find gender fascinating and on a continuous dichotomy. And while the boundaries of both men and women are challenged, altered, poked and prodded, we all still play or "do gender" as a part of our every day lives.

Girls learn very early on, it's important to be pretty. And if you aren't pretty, then you better have something else that makes you marketable. I know it's not the greatest way of thinking and it's horrible for self esteem, but well, it's how it is. Lucky, lucky, lucky for me, I got a sparkling personality, a list of great on paper attributes and good looks to go with it.

But it doesn't matter that I am likable and smart and funny and that other wonderful stuff you want in a person. Because I had a date the other night (squeee! If I get another date with him I'll spill more) and as we're talking, I'm trying to convey all of those above attributes. But at the same time I was constantly thinking "god I hope he thinks I'm pretty."

The Webs We Weave

I reconnected with a drinking buddy one night in the summer. It turns out, that same night he had just come back from an all day drive. (he's one of those people that talks on the phone and drives, which I do not approve of, ( I also suspect he's guilty of texts while driving, which I definitely do not approve of) but I wasn't in the car with him to voice my disprovable. Anyway, his buddy helped him stay awake/alert on the drive home by talking to him most of the drive.

Since my drinking friend and I had arranged to meet that night, at some point my name came up in their conversation. Buddy 2 knew who I was becasue we had all gone to (high) school together. But he also told my drinking buddy:

My buddy: "he said you were obsessed with him in high school."

Me: (laughing) "Actually, it was early middle school, but yeah, huge crush."

Buddy 1 starts cracking up becasue I didn't even try to deny it. The night continues and our conversation moves on. But Buddy 1 told the former crush I confirmed his story because a few days later, guess who's requesting to be my friend on facebook?

Ah the tangled webs we weave.

I Hate Your Kids

Yep. I do.

Ok, I don't hate my friends' children or kids that I actually know. I love being Auntie Sarah. But the brats that I see at the library? See title of this post.

Here's why:

1. Well, first, they are brats. And they always seem to be stupid too. I'm annoyed by stupid kids.
2. On that note, the childrens' department is not free babysitting. If your kid is not old enough/responsible enough to be left unsupervised at home, they are also not old enough to be at the library without you.
   
3. If you are with your kid, you are not allowed to mentally check out and not parent either. Then get mad, defensive and frankly just rude at us for telling your screaming kid to use their inside voice, stop saying bad words or not destroy the department.
   
4. Also, we will not do your homework for you either. We can help and point you in the right direction, but I am not going to dictate your book report.
5. We can see that you are not working on that same book report/science project you wanted us to do on the computer, and that you dicking around on myspace. How do we know? We have eyes.
   
6. Trust me we have seen every trick in the book before, and if you ask one person and don't get the answer you want, another library staff is not going to tell you anything different. You're 44th on the waiting list, and you have $10 in fines. That's not going to change no matter who you ask.
   
7. Just because we don't want you to re-shelve the books, that doesn't mean we're your maids either. If you don't want to throw something away, what makes you think we want to too? And if any part of you is sticky, please don't touch anything.

Mercy

Have you heard the song Mercy by Duffy? (I can't figure how to post a video, just google it) I've always liked it, it's fun to sing and you also can't help but wiggle around and dance a little bit whenever you hear it. It's also got a strong beat that's good to run to.

It's used a fair amount in commercials and finds it's way onto a soundtrack here and there. In the past year I've heard it in an episode of Glee (or was that Rehab by Amy Winehouse?), The Ladies Detective Agency (or was it Woman's Murder Club? Whatever it was, it didn't have a long shelf life on ABC's prime time line up) and for a commercial for It's Complicated, the Meryl Streep/Alec Baldwin movie. And I just heard it at the Olympics too!

It always kind of implies that something's afoot. But what is it about that song that became synonymous with mischief?

Finger Prints

Before I could get all cleared to work in maternity, I had to get the special maternity badge (it was a different color that said I was allowed to be around the babies, and my last name was left off as well) and get security clearance.

So I go to security, fill out the paper work and answer the barrage of questions. Having passed all those clearance, I find out that I have to get fingerprinted. Apparently to work with children and criminals, (what the hell kind of connection is that?) your fingerprints must be on file in Ohio. (There was a little drama that my legal residence was (still is) in Kentucky but I worked in Ohio, so my fingerprints were sent to the national level I think)

Anyway, security dude brings out the ink pad and finger print sheet and looks at me expectantly. I'm about to put my thumb in the ink but I'm not doing it right I guess, because he stops me and asks:

Security dude: "Have you ever done this before?"
me: "NO! You're not supposed to have done this before!"
Security dude: "Oh, right. Good point."

Plyo-what?

Plyometrics. Or as I have been known to call them: the jumpy thingys. By training these muscles, you increase your overall performance level somehow. I honestly don't care what they do, I just think they are fun. It's a series of platforms at varying heights, and your goal is to jump on them.

They look deceptively simple, but once you try them, you'll see they take a lot more work then you originally imagined. The higher the platform, well, the harder the jump. It takes a decent amount of control and balance to spring however many pounds you are and land. And if you miss, it's going to hurt. There are 4 different heights at the gym, the little one being 6", the tallest is 24" I've seen people (guys) stack the little ones on top of the big one to get more height. It's 'effing impressive. I unabashedly stared with my mouth open as he showed off.

But anyway, back to me. I can do the first 3 heights pretty well. The third one can be tough sometimes though. Sometimes I can crank out 8 rapid fire, and sometimes after 1 I know it's a lower box day. But one of my goals is to get that high box.

I decided today I would try. And I did it! I jumped 24 vertical inches! I stood in front of that thing and stared at it for a long time, concentrating like there was no tomorrow. Because it honestly scared me. I knew if I missed, it would royally hurt. And I said so out loud, not caring who heard me (the gym was busy). I put one foot up there just to see if I could and lifted myself up, then jumped down. Did that with the other foot and jumped down. Stared some more. I put my finger tips on the box for assistance to see if I jump both feet up there. Jumped down, resumed staring contest with inanimate object. I took a deep breath, I turned to a good song, crouched, and then straitened. I said forget the ipod and repeated the crouch and chicken out, 2 more times. And then I did it.

Three times, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke. The 2nd time I did graze my knee on the lip of the box, and that's gonna leave a mark, but I still got up there. That's right kids, I did it, I jumped 24" into the air. I was having a go me moment like you wouldn't believe.

Added 2/28/10: I'm a dirty lier. the tallest box is not 24" but 30". Yesterday I was stretching and I counted the cmu blocks and realized the 3rd level one was 24" so the taller one had to be 30". I'm even more proud of myself now! (and then I did it again to to make sure I could too)

The Worst Thing I EVER Ate

Two nights ago, I didn't get much sleep (the Olympics keep me up), so I was dragging for some of the day. I was anticipating not a great run, so I grabbed these energy pellets I had gotten as a free sample from one of my races on my way out the door. The brand was "Life Fitness" or something like that, coffee flavored, and it had "great new taste!" So I figured may as well, we'll see how I feel running time.

They were the worse thing I have ever put in my mouth. Seriously.

First: they were nearly impossible to open. I gnawed my way through the plastic before something tore. It's difficult to run and drink water for me, imagine how hard it was to open this palm size pouch. I had run over a half mile by that point.

Second: the texture was disgusting. The second the pellet touched my tongue, it broke into chunky grainy parts and coated my mouth with a chalky texture. But then I had to chew it up because it didn't break down any more after the initial break apart one.

And third: they had the most REVOLTING taste. "Great new taste" my ass. Taste like ass is better description.

I'm dying to spit these out, but I didn't want to stop my run since I was on a limited schedule. So I choked them down and gargled some water, hoping to wash some of the bitter out. At some point (still running btw), I spat out "it's like acid rain in my mouth! Chalky, acid rain!" (not that I know what acid rain taste like, but I'm sure this is not far off.

The taste never went away the entire run. I ended up drinking 20 oz of water that run, making me feel really sloshy. And the worst part, they made me seriously nauseous the rest of the day. Not in the tear my stomach up way the gels/sport beans did. I felt like I wanted throw up more that 6 hours later. (throwing up may have tasted better I bet)

Obviously, I should have not taken them, especially as I struggled to even open them. I think the running gods were mad at me for skipping my Tuesday run and then shortening it the next day. (I ran 4 today to make up for that missed mile) Or they were trying to intervene and save me. Either way, running gods, I'm sorry. For disappointing you or not heeding your warning.

Please don't let me put any more bad things in my mouth!

Caught Red Handed

I snoop. Not very often, (because it's a dangerous dangerous rabbit hole to fall down) and not in a you shouldn't leave me alone in your house kind of way. But yeah, I'm at least scanning my surroundings. Trust me, I notice a lot. But when presented with a golden opportunity, well.... it's a golden opportunity.

For example, my ex had one of those fireproof lock box things and we had just moved into together. He told me he kept his finances in there and kept the key on his massive janitorial style key* ring. I really didn't think anything about it, but one day he left the key in the lock, and well, I was home alone. I knew he had my engagement ring by that point, but it wasn't in our apartment. He was smart enough to know I would have found it if he hid it there (if there are diamonds, I find them. It's like a 6th sense). But my birthday was coming up and he had hinted heavily I was getting a shiny present for that, so maybe that was in the box! And maybe, just maybe, there would be a picture or a description of my engagement ring in there too! Yes! Of course! This makes perfect sense! Golden opportunity!

Without a second thought, I pull the box down from his closet shelf and open it up. I swear to god, 60 seconds later, he walks through our front door. Knowing I have no time, I decide to distract him and greet him enthusiastically by literally jumping on him while trying to guide him to the living room. But he was not to be deterred, and headed strait to the bedroom to take his tie off, only to see the open box on the bed. (meanwhile, I've slunk off to the kitchen)

x: "Hey babe? Were you snooping?"
me: (knowing I have no way out of this) "Yup"
x: (laughing) "wow, you didn't even try to hide that."
me: (indigent)"well, you caught me red handed." I throw up my (caught and red) hands. "Besides, you left the key in there. And I didn't have enough time to see if there was anything good in there anyway."
x: "well, do you want to see what's in there?"
me: "Oh! Sure."
Old checkbooks and absolutely nothing of shiny sparkly interest.
me: "Hrmphf. Waste of a snoop."

*What he had so many keys for I don't know. He even had the our apartment complex's "fitness center" (snort- an elliptical, treadmill and busted weight machines hardly count as a fitness center. And there were always dirty little kids playing on the equipment or a puffy phlegmy man sitting on the bike watching tv) key on there. Which was pointless because he never went to the gym whereas and I did and needed that key. The one time he went to the center I had to go with him and then he spent the entire time staring at me and then kept trying to touch me while I stretched out. I'm trying to get my muscles to go a certain way and you're attempting to bend me the exact the opposite way. NO touchy when I'm working out!

Quarters

My friend and I had finished with yoga class and I had just shown off my mad jumping skills to her. We were walking back to the locker room and I tell her that with my narrow focus on my weight, I didn't notice my stomach was shaping up some too. And that's good, because I want the line. And I also want an ass you can bounce quarters off of.

Her response to this was the bestest ever:

"If had quarters, I would not throw them at your ass. I would probably do something much more useful like buy myself a soda."

Bestest. Ever.

Pet people

I get that not everyone is a pet person. I wasn't growing up. Over time, I had 2 hamsters, a guinea pig and a fish or two, but nothing that could walk around the house free range. Nothing I could leash. I didn't hate animals, I just didn't have one, and I didn't mind or know if I ever would have a pet in my adult life.

But when we adopted Bailey, I became a dog person. My favorite animal in the whole wide world is Bailey (monkeys and most dogs are tied for 2nd). I instantaneously understood how people get so attached to their pets. Why they consider them family and give them presents.The instant Mark placed all squiggly squirmy 12 lbs of Bailey in my arms, it was love. She looked at me with her pretty brown kohl rimmed eyes, gave me a kiss on the chin and everyone in the shelter knew she was mine. And it wasn't just that I adored her in an instant, it was that I knew she loved me too, unconditionally and with out judgment.

So I know both sides, pet people and non pet people. I know that not everyone thinks my dog is the bestest ever. I admit she's naughty and ornery, strong willed beyond reason and I don't think she's the smartest dog in the world (she's not dumb, but she's not smart). If you don't like pets, that's fine I understand. But even if you do think those things about my dog, and you don't like her because of it, that doesn't give you the right to say so. Especially in front of me. Because it hurts my feelings. Yes, talking smack about my dog, hurts my feelings. Because to me, naughty or not, she is most definitely, the bestest ever.

Happy New Year!

Yep. Chinese New Year, but hey, still, happy one!
There are many customs and traditions when it comes to Chinese New Year which I will share with you now. You should:

• Wear red and gold to symbol good luck and wealth.
• There is no use of knives or cutting, something about it cutting your luck. So all the food is made the day before and it's dim sum, tiny yummy treats. I love me some finger food.
• There's also something about not washing your hair. Which I won't adhere to becasue I'm a wash my hair every day kind of girl, and besides, I'm only half Chinese.
• Children (especially the unmarried ones) are given little red envelopes with money. Pay up mom!
• It is bad luck to cry on new years, therefore, be naughty and your parent's can't yell at you.
• However, it is bad luck to be naughty anyway, so this one isn't a win for any one.
• You should at least wash your feet the night before that way you walk into the new year with clean soles. New shoes are even better.

So clearly, to honor my Asian side, I need new shoes!

This is a flawless plan. Flawless.

The OLYMPICS

So, I'm ridiculously excited about the Olympics. Ridiculously pee in my pants excited, stupid giddy at the mere thought of them.

Summer and Winter, I can't get enough. I want to know who won what, what the medal count is up to, I will watch all 4 hours of Olympic coverage every single night, and I will switch to another station if and only if there is different coverage going on.

One of my life goals is to go to both a summer and winter Olympic games. I know it will cost a ridiculous amount of money, but it's totally worth it. I have a feeling that at some point in my life, the games will be in the USA or Canada again, and I will be able to go. And they announce these things 6 years in advance, that's plenty of time to plan and save and get my tush to see the worlds most elite athletes.

I absolutely believe in the integrity and the fairness of the games. So don't anyone go being an asshole and tell me you think all the athletes are on something. The IOC tests and retests and they keep sample for years. If a new drug test is discovered, they will perform it, and they will strip you of your medal(s) years later. You may have gotten away with it at the time, but if you cheat, you will get caught and you will be punished.

But since I am not going to the games this year, I am content to watch with bright eyes and excitement in my dad's man cave. And, if that's not enough (though it totally totally is), I just play my own games alongside of them. I mean, my games are more of the drinking variety, but that doesn't make them any less fun for me!

My Ideal Weight

My friend asked me what is my obsession with weight? Umm good question.
It's not so much my weight that I'm super obsessed with, more so my overall body image. Somewhere in that overall image, I made this connection: that if I weigh less, I'm a smaller, littler me. And little me equals pretty, right? Right?

Ok, I know how messed up that is. I'm blaming this severe lack of confidence completely on my ex, when he stopped looking at me. You may think I'm over exaggerating and I should be over it by now, but, it's a hard blow to recover from. There were other issues that lead to our demise and my confidence issues, but this where the bulk of my insecurities stem from. I won't bore you with the details, because well, they depress me. But yeah, he stopped looking, I got insecure and poof here we are.

I'm not doing all this fitness stuff with the goal to loose weight. Honestly. Scouts honor I'm not trying to loose weight. It's just, I know I can be a few (10) pounds lighter because I have been 10 lbs lighter and it was somewhat recently. So I'm not trying to get my 17 year-old self back (because that would be 15 lbs lighter w/no curves. I'll pass). But when I was 10 lbs lighter, well, there was at least some interest from the opposite sex.

I know how whiny this sounds and if I don't keep it myself in check I could very easily wind up down a scary path. So I'm really trying to not focus solely on the number on the scale. I'm focusing on cutting time off my halves, building my endurance, improving my flexibility, and toning up. Other overall health stuff, which will bolster some of my confidence issues as well. But even with all the fitness stuff, the weight is not coming off. I do think it's at least muscle that I'm building and well, that's ok weight. But I don't think I'm slimming down this training. And I need to be ok with that.

Nice Guys

Before the Bachelor became Soup fodder, there were high hopes (hell, hopes) for the final rose couple. Now, well, it's soup fodder and the new/next bachelor is introduced as his predecessor is breaking up with the person he picked in the most shocking rose ceremony ever.

But back in the day, there were hopes for happily ever after. By the 5th or 6th one though, the luster had worn of. But before them, there was a rumor floating around that there was an ongoing bet between the bachelors of who could sleep with the most contestants. Yeah, which I totally believe, and I bet someone will get to all 25 at one point. Oh come on, 25 hot (or not in some cases) women, who no matter how many times they look for answers for their daddy issues or why do I always date losers problem at the bottom of a champagne flute (that never seems to go empty), are throwing themselves at the one available guy in the hopes of a rose. And to that I say, it's stupid to put out for a flower. You put out for jewelry, not flowers.

Anyway, when this rumor was floating around, I actually met one of the former Bachelors at a club, Bob (I sh*t you not). He had just gotten married (of course not to the girl who got the final rose), but he was still a little bit of a reality star at that point. And the friend I was with had just gotten engaged herself. And this is a friend who if she's in a relationship, then she thinks everyone else should be in one too (she's also apparently an expert at all things relationship wise as well when she's in one too). Seeing as she was in a perma-relationship, she now felt it was her duty to get me a boyfriend, and one who would propose.

But anyway, we meet Bob the Bachelor and of course I ask him what's the whole thing like. I had looked at the application form for shits and giggles once, and ultimately decided school was a more viable option rather than being at ABC's beck and call for 2 months of filming plus the additional 6 months of promo shoots, photo ops and re-shoots of the totally candid moments. And of course, I tell this to him. Bob the Bachelor confirmed that whole thing is pretty much nuts and that it was the right choice. My friend, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, points out to Bob the Bachelor that I'm single hot and nice, and I need "a nice guy."

Without loosing a beat, Bob the Bachelor throws back his head and laughs: "you won't find one of those that on the bachelor!"

HA!

Gel It

Have y'all ever heard of energy gels? Don't worry, most people have no idea what you're talking about unless you somewhat live in the world of endurance athleticism or know someone who does. I had never heard of them until my sister ran her first marathon and used them to train. She swears by the things.

They are literally a 1-oz pouch of gel full of carbohydrates and other stuff that keep you going. It's not like the Popeye/spinach effect and you don't take off like Speedy Gonzales either. But they give you a little oomph. If the thought of sucking down something that has the opacity of jelly and the constancy of something not quite like pudding skeeves you out, there are other options. They come in jelly bean form, gel blocks (more chewy than then pure gel), or powders to mix in your water.

You should take them about every hour of activity or every 6-7 miles, depending on your pace. And today was my first 6 mile long run, so I decided to gel it. I've only used them on race days and they are a god send during the race, but they absolutely tear my stomach up later in day. But maybe it's because my body isn't used to them so once a year is too much a shock to my intestinal system.

So, I'll train with the gels this time and see how it goes. Maybe my system will accept it and this won't be a problem post race. Because my 6 mile run today with gel blocks? Took me 61.5 minutes. It was boring until the eye candy got there, but I ran a 10 minute mile the entire time, and I felt GOOD the entire time. (the extra 1.5 is from the few moments I slowed down to walk in order to drink. I'm not coordinated enough to run and drink from my Nalgene bottle. Not to mention the puddles would be huge around me!) Yeah, the blocks are making me paying right now, but it's been months since my system had one. This probably just takes time.

So, let's gel it!
added 2/14/10: I stocked up on different gels and had one yesterday. Six miles in 61 minutes, no major tummy problems the rest of the day. I think I'm on the right path with these things. The texture though- still not pudding.

Baby Names

Remember my plan of two kids who are Rhodes scholars and all that? Yeah, well it probably shouldn't surprise you, but they have names too. As I said to my hairdresser the other day: I am the creepy girl who has already named her babies. The names have changed over time, for different reasons. Some were just stupid (Cleopatra. Shut up, I was 12), others I dated someone by that name and that would be awkward, or I just lost interest.

Somehow, the whole notion of me pre-picking baby names did not scare my ex. We even agreed on them. Though my girl's name was Ella, but then his niece got herself named Bella and well, you know. In theory, I could still use this name seeing as we're no longer together, but now there's that stupid pathetic 17 year old girl from that insipid teen saga known as Twilight. People will automatically assume I named her after a character who's one and only reason to live is a spend eternity with a boy who glitters and drinks blood. (have I mentioned I think Twilight is bull shit?) And clearly, there can be no ties to this waste of 1000 pages and to my Rhodes scholar.

Ahem, sorry, tangent there. We really had no issue when it came to naming our kids. Then we started arguing about who was getting "fixed," (for goodness sake it's just a little snip and an out patient procedure for you. You get an ice pack and go home. It's actual surgery for me, I go to the operating room and get narcotics. Doesn't the thought of me that way scare you even a little bit? (I attempted to use the don't you love me enough to fear for my safety card in this argument)) then I snapped back to my senses and said how about we actually have the kids before we figure out how to not have any more.

With Ella out, we agreed on Madeline and Jacob. But I've fallen out of love with those names since everyone else seems to like them too. And they were also "our" names, and well, if I'm not going to name a son after an ex boyfriend, it doesn't feel right to still name him something I had planed on with someone else.

Not to be deterred though, I have several other names I like. That I will keep to myself for the time being because they may change once again by the time I have children. So now, I just need the kids to give them to.

Brown Bagging It

I bring my lunch to school because, well, that's what I do. But I also don't want to be at the mercy of what food places are open, what's available, who has the shortest line, or how much cash I have (I only have a few $ on my uk id for printing,). Most places (I think all actually) take credit cards, but that's a temptation I don't want to indulge, because I know how quick that stuff adds up.

My first co-op, I realized how much money I blew on just my lunch. So I started bringing it most days. It takes a little planning, but hey, I like to plan. When I worked at the hospital (in cinci), I always brought it. And while a lot of other people did too, it was surprising that someone as young as me did so (I was a little on the younger side of my coworkers, but not too much).
But yeah, those bought lunches really add up.

So I brown bag it. Well, my lunch bag is one of those reusable-soft-sided insulating ones, but you know what I mean. Brown bag lunches have come a long way from a sandwich, a piece of fruit and a cookie. Nope, not in my lunch box, it's a small matter of pride for me. Where can you get homemade shepherds pie on campus? Or pumpkin soup? Or peanut butter oreos? Yeah, that's right kids, us grown ups bring good stuff in their lunch bags.

But I admit, I'm not above not wanting what I brought that day. Sometimes as I'm studying/eating in the white noise of students' conversations, I look up at the Chic-fil-et or Sabaros, and think, I really, really want that right now.

added 2/4/10: less than 12 hours after this post, guess who bought her lunch and her morning coffee? Yeah, shame. And irony, apparently I'm your bitch

Piggy Tails

Pigtails are my preferred workout hair style. For several reasons:

1. My hair is not quite long enough to fit into one ponytail.
2. When I do put it in a ponytail, my hair doesn't stay in the band.
3. So if I'm doing any sort of floor work, pilates, yoga, and always stretching, no matter where the ponytail that is not holding all of my hair is, gets in the way because it's awkward to lay on.

To remedy this, (if I have time), I put my hair in pigtails. And this works because:

1. My hair stays in the bands.
2. They don't get in the way of floor work.
3. And they're super cute.
   

Now if only the guys would stop giving me skeevy looks at the gym...

I don't get checked out/noticed unless I wear pigtails. Despite what my hairstyle makes you think boy, s'aint happening. Move along and lets finish out work outs like adults (says the girl with the childish hairstyle).