Helpful Tips

Tomorrow is the big race. As you all know, I'm less than prepared. Like, really less than prepared.


(not me.)

No matter.

In the spirit of someone that might have some advice for others, I've created a list of things that will and will not help you run. This is for anyone that might be considering a road race longer than anything they've ever even attempted, and then blow off training for said race, and then rediscover a love of ice cream, and then trying to cram in a few months of runs into one week, fueled only by shame and fear (thank you Allie Brosh, for coining a phrase that so aptly applies to my life).

Without further ado...

Buying budget-crushing workout clothes will not make you run faster. I know, I was surprised too.

On that point, buying said clothes in loud prints and colors, under the mindset of "If I'm wearing something totally ridiculous, I'll force myself to run faster, so I don't look like the slow loser who's wearing crazy clothes," will not make you run faster. You will just look like a slow loser in ridiculous, crazy clothes. Been there, sister. Been there.

Exaggerating a slow pace at the start of your run will help you to not burn out early. Thanks, Dad!

Talking about running over gChat with Lindsay will not do the same thing as actually running. And while we're on the subject of Lindsay, she will not do as poorly as she says she will. Don't be fooled. She was a personal trainer and has run a half marathon.

Putting five miles in perspective will help you get to the end of the race. I hope.

Remembering that you never have to run five miles again in your entire life will also help, I think.

Helpful? I thought so.

After all, who better to give running advice than the girl who loses her will to live after about 1.34 miles?

Chuck Bass: Hottie Thinker of the Day

I like interpretations of what attractive men with Preppy Hair are thinking in pictures better than just pictures of them.
Don't you?
Much more interesting.

Have you ever wanted to know what Chuck Bass is thinking?

Mystery Solved!






Happy Tuesday!

Bad Omens.

As surprising as this may be to all of you, I have a few bad habits. One of my worst? A penchant for getting terribly excited about a new hobby, saying I'm going to really "stick with" this one and "see it through," and then completely abandoning my pursuit about a month later.

For the purpose of this post, "it" is the 5 Mile road race this coming Saturday.

I talked, blogged and jogged my way through the first week after signing up. I was going to be a RUNNER, all caps. Fulfill my dreams of being lithe on my feet!

Then week two hit, and I sort of got sick of running. Then I went on vacation on week three. Then something at work happened... then I got sleepy... then I need to do laundry...

Fast forward to now, when I haven't run (actually, participated in any type of physical activity) for the past two weeks.


(Me, probably)

Things aren't looking good, my friends. I walked the dog for a mile yesterday and my hamstrings are sore. There is no way I finish this race in any sort of respectable time. Just no way.

My bad habits strike again.

GO AMERICA! WOOOOO!

As I'm sure many of you are, I'm getting ready for a relaxing Memorial Day Weekend. My little brother is graduating from high school (Go Brad!), the pool is calling my name, and Boyfriend and I might play a little golf (which is actually means he'll play golf, and I'll expand on the pool lounging as previously mentioned).

So, yes, rainbows and puppies all around. Memorial Day Weekend is fulfilling my dreams already.

(Image from a site who's URL is not made up of very nice words, ironically, so I'll just link it here.)

That being said, one of my biggest pet peeves is when people gorge themselves on hot dogs and brownies in the name of something they don't know or understand. Memorial Day sometimes falls under this category, and in that spirit...

A BRIEF (AND SASSY) HISTORY LESSON:
Created soon after the American Civil War, Memorial Day (nee Decoration Day, which I slightly prefer because it reminds me of streamers) is a federal holiday that was created to honor those who have given their lives in service as members of the U.S. Military. Another fun fact, you ask? The first Memorial Day, according to Yale Professor David Blight, was celebrated by formerly enslaved African Americans at Washington Race Course in South Carolina. According to Wikipedia, "The race course had been used as a temporary Confederate prison camp for captured Union soldiers in 1865, as well as a mass grave for Union soldiers who died there. Immediately after the cessation of hostilities, formerly enslaved people exhumed the bodies from the mass grave and interred them properly with individual graves. They built a fence around the graveyard with an entry arch and declared it a Union graveyard. The work was completed in only ten days. On May 1, 1865, the Charleston newspaper reported that a crowd of up to ten thousand, mainly black residents, including 2800 children, proceeded to the location for included sermons, singing, and a picnic on the grounds, thereby creating the first Decoration Day."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Memorial_Day

There.

Now you know.





p.s. Can we talk about how ridiculous that rainbow and puppy picture is?

UPDATE: Monday Total Hotties

American Psycho Hottie: Christian Bale

Please enjoy this entirely gratuitous set of Christian Bale photos.
Update: I have updated these photos to reflect what I believe Bale is tying to express in these photos.

Christian Bale.

A conservationist.

A thinker.

An angst-y teen.



Happy Monday!

Rants and Raves (mostly rants)

One of my greatest joys in life is pointing out the ridiculous.

Ranging from the mildly absurd to the wildly incorrect and vaguely inappropriate, I enjoy a certain smug satisfaction from discovering that I am right about something, and whoever committed the offense is wrong.

It's actually not unlike the "Really with Seth and Amy" skits on Saturday Night Live (except most of the time it's mental dialogue and Boyfriend never laughs hard enough).



(Did that work? HTML isn't really my thing... if it didn't, here's the link: http://www.hulu.com/watch/13828/saturday-night-live-really-with-seth-and-amy)

Anyway, this morning's very-similar-to-really-with-seth-and-amy-but-not-exactly-the-same rant (please don't sue me SNL, I do not make enough money to fight you in the courts) is directed towards my local coffee chain (who I love unconditionally, but this just goes to show that the ones you love can sometimes hurt you the most).

Seriously, coffee shop I refuse to name because I fear legal retaliation? When you say "eight flavors; endless combinations" on your menu, do you not realize that those two statements are completely incongruent? That if, in fact, you have eight flavors, the maximum number of combinations you can have is 64? And that's only if someone wants to be a real pain in the butt... with eight flavors, what you really have is EIGHT combinations. Because nobody wants a hazelnut-raspberry-coconut iced coffee. And while we're on that subject, nobody really wants a raspberry iced coffee, either. You lured me in with that one a while ago, and tasted like broken promises.

Who really wants endless coffee combinations, anyway? When I stumble into your brightly colored shop in the morning, all I want is something that will keep me moving for the next few hours until I can substitute Diet Coke in for my caffeine fix. I can barely choose between vanilla and caramel, let alone endless possibilities. Who are you trying to capture with your menu marketing? Who is the guy that says, "Gah?! Only 64 choices?! This is COMPLETELY unacceptable! I want to know that I could be here for years choosing my bean-based beverage... with 64 options, I will only have but a few shorts hours."

You know what? I don't even want to know that guy. Please just take the "endless" off your signage, and we'll go back to back to the way we were. Thank you.

End rant.

Now, go to hulu.com and make them money, and watch SNL this weekend (so neither of them come after the sassy b's).

Classroom Haiku

Oh, little children
Why do you like Hot Cheetos
The world is orange

Little girl in class
You say “You look really weird”
I lack mascara

Classroom grammar book
I’m not sure you understand
What synonym means

Please, no more Red Bull
Or Monster Energy Drinks
Your heart will explode

You ask me my age
You ask if I am eighty
Yes, I say, I am

Don’t pick your nose here
Even though I am reading
I can still see you

J'adore Cape Cod.

I love Cape Cod. I love it in ways that are normally reserved for children, spouses, and really excellent jewelry. I love it with my whole being, my entire core. I love. love. love. the cape.

When the weather starts getting nicer (anywhere above 60 degrees, really), my mind starts wandering down 6A and towards the beach. Today's temperatures will allegedly reach the high seventies, and so my brain is firmly planted in Harwichport.

I think the reason I love the cape so much has less to do with its geographical location, and more to do with what I do there. Which is to practice my lounging and lolling about.

Have you ever lolled? Southern and I are big fans of the Sweet Potato Queens, and they introduced me to the concept. Lolling about is a combination of lying around, drinking cool beverages, and convincing people to amuse you while you recline on some sort of cushioned surface. It's my activity of choice.

Tanning while lolling is an excellent way to spend the day. Add a book (perhaps a Red Dress Novel?) and you've created the single most perfect situation in existence.

There are only a few short days left in May, and then June (and lolling, and cape season) is upon us. I'm ready. Are you?

The Most Spectacular of Photo-Bombs.

The events that led to this photograph were quite serendipitous indeed.
They came together to create a really quite scenic and perfectly executed photo bomb. Northern and I decided it really provided a quite telling picture of our fabled sassy-ness.

Northern and Southern B's photobombing Boyfriend (Southern's) while Fly-Fishing.

For more photo bombs, please visit:
Photo Bomb
Some can be slightly (or completely) distasteful or NSFW.

Monday Total Hotties

West Wing Hottie: Rob Lowe

Now:

Then:

(far left)

Doesn't he just have the most beautiful prep hair? Yes. YES he does.

I am not very interesting today.

This is my desk:


Please ignore the crappy photo; I took it with my phone (+2 life points for using a semi-colon in a blog post).

That's all I have for you today.

I was searching for inspiration and I just couldn't see past the blue fabric of my "walls." And then I realized that before I joined the 9-5 crowd, I was actually fascinated by the idea of cubicles. And so, in the event that any of you are as lame as I was/am, here's a post about my cube.

SIDE STORY: When I started dating Boyfriend, he was already out of college, and I had all sorts of crazy ideas about what was in his cube (whimsical pictures of us! stacks of paper labeled important! a constantly ringing phone!). What he actually had was a Kirby Puckett bobble head. I should have known.

Anyway.

In the photo above, you'll notice two of my four calendars. Why do I have four? Because I start to go into a blind panic if I can't see exactly what date and time it is from any given angle at my desk. So I'll keep them all, thank you, and add another if I get a chair that has better swiveling capabilities.

You'll also notice a campy mug with hearts on it. Purchased at T.J. Maxx for five dollars, it gets the job done and makes students think I'm older than I am, because seriously, who has patterned mugs? I want to replace it with this. Incidentally, my birthday is August 9th. No reason. Just saying.

That pink, sea anemone-type thing? I have no idea. It was novel for a while and now its home is right in front of the green water bottle that gets no use.

Boyfriend's Official C League softball schedule. A given. Remember the Kirby Puckett bobble head?

White Out to amend the four calendars I have at my desk.

Post-it notes in a color I dislike. I prefer the classic yellow, with black pen. But sometimes, you just have to suffer through.

White organizer that has a notebook I have used once and then found too cumbersome to bring around with me, assorted pens of which I actually only use two, business cards, a cute note from Boyfriend that I thought would be lame to pin up but now am actually considering (in the time it took to type that, I've already reconsidered). A ruler because I flip out if things aren't level. Spoons because I like to eat my yogurt from something that isn't plastic and designed to cut up my mouth. And a lone cough drop left over from my mysterious illness.

And that's it. I won't even get into the other side of my desk.

I'm sure all nine of you really enjoyed this.




It is absolutely no wonder that we do not have more followers.

In which I remember I have a blog...

So, as we all know, I'm an avid reader of the mommy blogs. My mornings are not complete without ogling pictures of their cute children and staring at their adorable monogrammed walls (they exist! why didn't my mother love me enough to give me monogrammed walls?!). I am one unhappy lady if someone has forgotten to post that morning, and often spend the rest of the day fuming that these strangers I've emotionally attached myself to didn't care enough to share a bit of their lives with me.

Except then I forgot to post for, oh, about three weeks. And realized maybe I can be a little bit critical of those who are sometimes too busy to get on blogger.

So, whoops.

A brief recap of what has gone on in my life:

1) I visited Southern B and our third amigo, whose name begins with an A and therefore does not fit into our Southern/Northern nickname constituency, in New Mexico.

Exhibit A:


Exhibit B:


Exhibit C:


2) I all but abandoned running due to said vacation above and a mysterious illness that robbed me of my voice and will to live. My training schedule says I should be doing about 4 miles by now, and I'm at about 2.5.

This road race should be interesting.

(Also, the boyfriend is averaging EIGHT miles on his run. EIGHT. I'm not bitter though.)

3) I planned a trip to Africa!

That's actually not entirely accurate. My parents planned a trip to Africa, and I begged to be allowed to tag on. They complied because they love me and didn't want to hear me complain for the next three months.

Come August, I'm Kenya bound. Imagine the blog posts, people. They're going to be epic.

If I remember to post, that is.

Medieval War Puggle.

Ask and ye shall receive.

So after the last "Pugs of War" post, I sent my little sister the picture. She saw it and texted me: "You are so weird. That is an awesome picture."

My mom saw it and said "What is wrong with you?"

I showed Boyfriend, and he said I should have made one with Medieval armor and weapons. I tried to put something on his back like a giant shield or something, but it didn't look right. If anyone has any suggestions for future Puggles of War let me know.

May I present Henry, Medieval War Puggle.

In other news...

(Image from passiveaggressivenotes.com)

Are mommy blogs the new chick lit?

I have always been big on guilty pleasures. I just feel that life is hard enough as it is, and everyone should be able to have that one thing that helps them escape for a little while.

When I was in high school, my roommate (oh, boarding school) and I were obsessed with chick lit. The running joke was that if it had been published by Red Dress Ink*, we had it on our bookshelf. I probably should have been studying, but what can I say? I loved those books about new shoes, flashy jobs, messy relationships and trife dialogue (for a perfect synopsis of how every single book went, read this). They were fun and easy, a welcome break from worrying about boyfriends (or complete lack thereof), where I'd go to college, what I'd wear to the dance...etc.

These days, I'm not so into the fluff books. Maybe it's because my life has become to similar to those in the books (Um, twenty something? Check. First jobs? Check. Piles of clothing I can't afford? Check), or maybe I just got tierd of reading the same story over and over again.

But I've found a new guilty pleasure.

Behold, the mommy blogs.

All Things In Moddy
Dave and Brit Plus One
Kelly's Korner
Babbling Abby

I regularly read about ten of these, about adorable women (mostly from the South) with their adorable children (mostly under three) and what it's like to be a mommy. I really can't get enough. I'm sure these women all have problems and issues all their own, but all I can see are the cute kiddies and great clothes.

Mommy blogs are the new chick lit.

Now, I realize that it might be a little creepy that I am admitting that I read them so regularly, but I've decided to share because these little blogs really do give me a second or two in my day when I can just escape from whatever I'm doing and plug into another life.

And I'm not ashamed to admit it.




*Editor's Note: I had NO idea that Red Dress was a division of Harlequin, arguably "the" name in trashy, grocery store bodice rippers, until I decided to link them. This is why they're called guilty pleasures, people. I feel the shame, even years later.

Release the Puggles of War.

I want to share with you, internets, a little glimpse into a bizarre side project of mine. If we want to call it that.

My Boyfriend (from now on to be referred to as Boyfriend) has an undeniably strange side. As do I.

My dog Henry has a toy Hedgehog. It is the only dog toy I have EVER gotten him that he has not immediately destroyed. Seriously, any toy he has ever had (even the "indestructable!" ones) he has attacked, pulled out all the stuffing, and stredded.

Except for one.

The hedgehog.

As Boyfriend and I were sitting idly on the couch, the following conversation took place:

Me: I think its weird that Henry's had this toy forever and hasn't torn it up yet.

Boyfriend: Huh.

Me: Don't you think? Why do you think that is?

Boyfriend: I bet its because his family was brutally murdered by Hedgehogs. He is using the toy to train for his revenge.

Me: ...

Boyfriend: Yeah! When Henry was a puppy, an army of Hedgehog captured, tortured, and murdered his family. He was the only survivor. Before they killed them, they clipped their toenails. That's probably why Henry hates getting his nails clipped.


After this, he began singing about the Legend of the War Puggle.

This strange aside continued for weeks and weeks. This legend became more and more elaborate. The War Puggles wore expertly crafted armor, complete with chain-mail and spikey helmets. They could be tossed into the ranks of an opposing force by humans and wreak havoc.

I decided that movies should be remade with War Puggles as the lead roles. This lead to a discussion of every War/Action movie I could think of. I then substituted one of the words for "Puggle" or "Pug."


Artist's rendering of what a War Puggle might look like:

Here is the list:

• Gettyspug
• All Puggles on the Western Front
• A Farewell to Pugs
• Casapuggle
• Inglorious Puggles
• The Thin Red Pug
• The Hunt for Red Pugtober
• Flags of Our Puggles
• Pug Harbor
• We Were Puggles
• Black Pug Down
• The Hurt Puggle
• Kingdom of Puggle
  
• Lethal Puggle (1, 2, and 3)
• Top Pug
• First Pug
• Saving Private Puggle
• Puggles in Arms

• 

Because I care, YOU care.

Yesterday, I ran two miles OUTSIDE.

I had never done that before.

I am this much closer to being this girl (except less tan, and in shorts a color other than yellow):

(Image from self.com)

That is all.

Shwag.

Since deciding I was going to transform myself into an athlete (even more impressive, a runner), I've gone about the business of getting the correct tools for the job.

Because everyone knows you can't just run, you need cool accessories to do it with.

The first, and arguably most important, stop was to Marathon Sports in Brookline to get new sneakers. I actually can't say enough good things about this place. First, they were super attentive from the second I walked in, despite the fact that I was wearing a ruffled sundress and ballet flats. Second, they actually took the time to watch me walk barefoot, then in shoes, then running, then running outside. Third, they legitimately didn't seem to care at all when I was discussing the colors of the different shoes and how they might affect my mile time. I got out of there with an awesome pair of Asics that make me feel like I'm not wearing shoes at all.

The second was to Lululemon. I actually can't afford anything in there right now, but I mentally planned my race day outfit.

The third and most current obsession, began with a little trip to Amazon.com and ended with a small, red and white sensor that is currently in my purse in case Abby found it in my room and decided to eat it.

The Nike+.

Southern B told me to get it months ago, but I hesitated (I have a hard time making planned purchases). WHAT.A.MISTAKE.

This baby is AWESOME. It tells me how fast (slow?) I'm going, how long I've run, and allows me to press a button that activates my "power song." It makes me feel like a REAL runner. At the end of the week, I can see how many miles I've gone so I can casually drop that number in conversation.

Is there any downside to this little device?

I think not.

I'm an "athlete!"

"Athlete" in quotation marks, because really, I'm not. But by June 5th, I will be...

Explanation:

I've always wanted to be one of those effortlessly sporty, spandex short wearing, perky ponytail swishing girls. Pangs of jealousy used to gnaw at me every time they jogged by me eating an ice cream cone on the street.

A few months ago, I worked at a gym. Let me tell you, it's hard to avoid the gym when you work. there. The trainers will not give you a break! So I started working out. At first, it was just the elliptical, but as time went on, I started feeling like I wasn't actually doing anything. I decided to conquer the treadmill.

I started very slowly, but I've now gotten to the point where an average jog is somewhere around two miles. Instead of reviling in my success, what do I do? I SIGN UP FOR A ROAD RACE.

That's right my friends. Come June 5th, I'll be running the Harpoon Road Race. It's about five miles, and I'll be doing it with the boyfriend, his friends, and some of the boyfriends' friends' girlfriends who are now MY friends (phew).

Tonight's the night I see whether I can actually even RUN five miles.

Pray for me.

Bullies.

When I was in elementary school, I was bullied. A lot.

I don't know why I was the target of schoolyard (and school room, and school library, and school bus... ) bullying, but it was absolutely merciless. The taunting would give me stomach aches so severe that my parents eventually took me to the hospital to rule out a serious medical condition. My mother and father did go to the principle, but little was done. If I remember correctly, the school administrators actually told the bullies that my parents had registered a complaint, and that only made everything worse.

Eventually, I switched schools, and the bullying stopped. I was able to move on with little lingering damage. Phoebe Price, a South Hadley, Massachusetts resident, wasn't able to "move on." After a final day of being exhaustively taunted, the 15 year old hung herself in her parents' home. Her 12 year old sister was the one who discovered her body.

This case has received some national and significant local media attention. You can read about it here and here.

Nine students have been charged with crimes related to her death, and three of them will be tried as adults. State officials have also condemned the faculty members of her school who apparently knew she was being bullied, and did little to nothing to stop it. Citizens of South Hadley are calling for their resignation.

This case makes me sick to my stomach.

Children can be cruel, and to a certain extent, there's not a whole lot we can do about it. Empathy and compassion are traits that I believed are learned, and not necessarily inherent in all people. There will always be someone that's pushed on the playground. Still, there's a line. And it needs to be drawn much earlier than it was for Phoebe, and will be for future victims.

I'm sure there will be some who say that her bullies (who I refuse to call children, because the extent of their manipulation shows a level of intelligence that puts them beyond a title that claims innocence), while cruel, should not be sentenced to imprisonment or given a record that will follow them for the rest of their lives.

I can't disagree more.

For every action, there is a reaction. Every decision, whether it's been carefully chosen or hastily made, has a consequence. When you, as a student, choose to taunt someone for, if some of what I have seen is correct, months, and she decides she can no longer live with your cruelty, you need to be punished. Strongly and irreversibly.

When you, as a school administrator, become so jaded that you believe "kids will be kids," and stop looking out for the interests of children you've been entrusted to teach and protect, you deserve to lose your job. Permanently.

I hope that Phoebe's taunters are given the maximum punishment available for their crimes. And I hope that this story brings bulling more national attention. The more people see how devastating it can be, the more I believe will be done to stop it.

This RAIN...

We've been preparing for the next coming of Noah here in Massachusetts.
The rain is making me sleepy and lethargic.
I can barely string sentences together, let alone try to find something witty to say.

Instead, here's a list of things I'm thankful for when the weather gets foul:

A warm puppy that likes to snuggle.
New raincoats in bright colors.
HUNTER RAINBOOTS (I do not care that they are overpriced and trendy, they make me feel as if I'm on some sort of farm and I like it).
Grilled cheese and tomato soup.
Reruns of old favorites (When Harry Met Sally, anyone?).
c jane enjoy it.
The snooze button.
The countdown to vacation I've put on every calendar I own (23 days counting today!).

Also, today's the day that this blog goes "public," as in, Southern and I are going to start putting new posts up on Facebook. I just decided.

Let's see how that goes.

This is a Test.

To see if I can embed videos.

Incidentally, this is exactly how I felt when Spring Break ended. Spring Break as a teacher is much more necessary and exciting than it is when you are a student. Trust.

Why is fitness so controversial?

Since Southern B mentioned some new and superb songs to power up your workout (which I have already downloaded and tested thankyouverymuch), I thought I'd share a little rant I have about working out and fitness in general.

I think you could ask any woman, and she'd tell you that at one point in her life, she's been jealous of another woman's shape. I don't think that's a bad thing, so long as it doesn't become all consuming. Sometimes, seeing something you desire in others pushes you to get after it yourself.

A little jealousy can go a long way when it comes to fitness. In fact, seeing another girl running longer or faster on the treadmill next to me always pushes me to ramp up my efforts... and if she looks great in a pair of yoga pants I've been lusting after, WELL, let's push for the extra mile, shall we?

My rant is not the jealousy, it's how I feel some people manifest that feeling by begrudging the girl who's working it on the elliptical over yonder.

Today in the Boston Globe, an article was written about women and exercise. Specifically, how a new Brigham and Women’s Hospital study argues that women who begin with a healthy body weight should be aiming for 60 minutes of exercise a day. Presumably, that would mean women who don't have a healthy body weight should be doing more than that, if they're trying to loose. While older guidelines have always been around 30 to 60 minutes, I think conventional wisdom has always rounded down to 30 (which, incidentally, is the US Department of Health and Human Services’ standard).

I can already imagine the backlash I'd receive if I showed this article to some of my friends ("MORE EXERCISE?!"). It's no secret that healthy eating and exercise have become a large part of my life in the past few years, but I still find it absolutely shocking how many people seem to be bothered by it.

The same goes for celebrities. Why do people, and women in particular, get so angry when they see a healthy celebrity being photographed coming out of the gym? Are they threatened? Why do they feel the need to say "I could do that, if I had a trainer/chef/person I could miraculously pay to run for me?"

Look, you may not ever look like a model. That's normal! But lots of everyday people manage to look great all on their own, and I bet a little gym time and eating in moderation had something to do with it. It's not about how skinny you look, it's about how healthy you are. So stop telling me how you could look like that if you just did what they were doing, and do it! There's nothing worse than being jealous of something and doing nothing to quell that feeling.

Don't judge the other girl for doing her thing, just do yours. Let just a little bit of jealousy help to get you to the place where you can honestly say that you're doing the best you can to be healthy... and then unabashedly ask the girl next to you where she got those cute running shoes.

Temperature Elevates, World Mourns (Running Music)

As spring approaches, one must take a serious look at the lethargy and overwhelming sloth of the past few months. Months when one could sit idly on a couch and say “it is simply too cold to go outside and move around with an elevated heartbeat for over 30 minutes.” Out here on the Rez there is no gym, no treadmills, no fun workout classes. There are just sandy trails snaking through low shrubs and (seriously) tumbleweed.
For this reason, I have not exercised in any meaningful way for a long time. The snow has almost completely melted, along with my excuses. It is time to brush the dust off the old iPod, pull on my trail-runners, and venture outside.
To help me cope with this sad reality, I have to have music get me through. I have compiled a list of my favorite running/workout songs. Hopefully they will bring you some solace and aid you as you attempt to peel yourself away from your cheesy poofs and dinners-for-two eaten by one.
1. Fatboy Slim – Weapon of Choice
Awesome. Also Christopher Walken dances in the video.
2. David Guetta ft. Akon – Sexy Bitch
Makes you feel like a Sexy B while running.
3. Lights – Saviour
The chorus is catchy.
4. K’Naan – Waving Flag
Inspirational for long runs.
5. Britney Spears – 3
Nothing beats a good Britney jam.
6. Florence and the Machines – Dog Days are Over
I can't get over this song. I love it.
7. Beck – Timebomb
Tick Tick Tick
8. Cake – Shut the F*ck Up
First, its Cake. Second, the lyric "like sharpened knives through chicken McNuggets."
9. Ladyhawke – Dusk Till Dawn
Catchy and fun to run to.
10. The Who – Baba O’Riley
For some reason, this makes the time on a run go much faster. You can also imagine you are on CSI.
11. Lupe Fiasco – Solar Midnite
Good.
12. Wyclef Jean ft. Maya – Ghetto Superstar
Elementary School Fave.
13. The Replacements – Alex Chilton
I once did a beautiful choreographed dance for KW to this song. It makes you want to bob your head up and down. I don't know why.
14. Garbage – Paranoid
Because its Garbage.
15. Sublime – April 29, 1992
So you can feel like a Badass
16. Ben Folds Five – Army
I love songs with Piano in them.
17. Hellogoodbye – Here in Your Arms
This is a good car song as well.
18. Gorillaz – Feel Good Inc.
A bit of a throw back.
19. Jay-Z – Dirt Off Your Shoulders
Ladies is pimps too.
20. The XX – Crystalized
Good for zoning out.
21. K’Naan – T.I.A.
Because DiCaprio said it.


Happy Running,

I'm pretty sure angels shop at Anthropologie

Like many girls, shopping is my biggest vice. I can't resist the allure of new things, especially when they're beautiful and on sale.

Since graduating from college, I've had to be better with my budget, so I only allow myself to shop for occasions these days. Unfortunately, there are a few problems with that mindset. One, you never know when an occasion will pop up, and you'll need to have something fabulous on hand. Two, I could classify walking the dog as an occasion.

Therefore, sometimes I find myself in Anthropologie with the "occasion" (in this case, a wedding) months away, ready to shop. And wouldn't you know it, I found a few things!

(Image from anthropologie.com)

Andddd...

(Also from anthropologie.com)

What do you think? These could be worn for MANY occasions, right?

Right.

So I totally didn't break my budget rule.

Attention span of a goldfish.

It's a widely accepted fact that Southern B and I have the cutest dogs in the world. I've always been very thankful that Henry's a boy and Abby's a girl, so we wouldn't have to compete between who has the cutest boy/girl in the world. They're the cutest gender duo, and that works well for their mama's egos.

But, as in real life, the cuter you are, the more high maintenance you tend to be... at least with Abby. That pup wants all of my attention, all the time. Part of it may be that she's just a year old and still has lots of energy to burn, but I tend to believe that she has taken after me, and will never grow out of it. Girlfriend just wants love and attention, and can I fault her for that?

Abby's also very easily distracted, which has it's pros and cons. Pro? She will always drop whatever she has if she sees a plush toy with a squeaker. Con? She will NOT do her business outside if she sees a child.

ANY child. And while it was cute for a while, my mornings are getting increasingly more difficult as more and more children are walking to school in the nice weather.

Part of the issue is that Abby's dog park is literally right in front of an elementary school (good planning Town, I bet there's never been a single issue with children stepping in something right before they go into a crowded, non-airconditioned room in the spring). I'll frantically rush doing my makeup to try to get her there before 8:00, which appears to be the time most kids run into class, but sometimes it just can't be done. And those mornings are the worst.

At first she won't notice them, and start sniffing around for the best possible place to do whatever it is she's planning to do. Sometimes, she'll even be halfway through finishing up when all the sudden, she'll spot one. A small boy, skipping jauntily, perhaps with a ball under his arm.

BAM. She'll start running towards him, full speed, leash and collar around her neck forgotten. I'll try to catch up, but I'm never fast enough, and she'll end up flying in the air and thrown about as she reaches the end of her leash, and I reach the end of my proverbial rope. The child will laugh, and continue moving towards class, and Abby will desperately try to follow him into the building.

I'll wait a few more seconds in vain, but once she's seen that first kid, she's not going to do anything. So, I'll drag her back to my apartment and spend the rest of the day praying she doesn't decide to finish what she started in my new shoes.

But she looks like this:

So I keep trying to get her out for a morning walk, and hope that school will be canceled tomorrow.

No. Just... no.

Okay, look.

There are some things that take the joy right out of me.

The photo below is one of them.

Why yes, that IS a Gap Factory shirt. And, yes, there IS a little bit of foundation on the collar.

Yes, it was found at T.J. Maxx. And no, there's no shame in a little discount shopping before picking up the dog at the groomer.

But NO, your eyes don't deceive you. That shirt is $99.99.

I'll write that out for you, in case you didn't get it the first time. Ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. One penny short of one hundred dollars. Ninety-nine, ninety-nine.

I could tell you that I brought this to the attention of an associate, and she told me that was the correct price. I could also tell you that I was dissatisfied with that answer, and brought it to another associate, who admitted it was probably a mistake.

But instead of making this post longer than it needs to be, let's just all take a moment to acknowledge that for a brief moment in time, a pre-worn, unwashed, Gap outlet, ruffled and stripped shirt was priced at $99.99.

sweetea.

'Tis not Sweet Tea. It is sweetea.

One should pronounce it as one word.

Earlier today I walked into Thoreau, NM's general store.
Nickname: BJ's.
Official name: BJ's Kountry Store.

I saw a little plastic bottle of Lipton's tea called "Sweet Tea." My heart jumped into my stomach and I felt like doing a tiny dance, but wisely chose not too. I just adore sweet tea. It is the best thing in the universe. If I was Oprah, it would be at the top of my "Favorite Things" list every single year. I purchased the "Sweet Tea" and carried my prize to the car. I couldn't wait to open the bottle and try it out. I twisted the plastic top off, tipped the ambrosia to my lips, and then wanted to just shrivel up and die.

No bottled "Sweet Tea" has EVER tasted like the real thing. And yet, in my naivete, I have repeatedly tried any new brand in the vain hope it would actually be sweetea.

As a wee young girl, I worked in many a Southern eating establishment. Here, and at home, I learned the proper way in which to make sweetea.

You brew some of this:

And while it is still piping hot, you add a LOT of this:

You mix it up and basically continue adding sugar until the mixture can hold no more.

Pour in one of these:

And pour over a glass of these:


If you are feeling VERY sassy, spontaneous, and CRAZY, you can add:

Or a wee sprig of:

As the weather warms, I encourage you to make and enjoy some sweetea for yourself.
Front porch, rocking chairs, porch swings, and gossiping are optional.






PS. let me know if you would like a recipe with more, say, measurements.