Holding out hope

As if I'm not devastated enough over the demise of Heidi and Seal (fingers crossed for a reconciliation) VH1 decided to air a special on famous celebrity breakups. They reminded me of the breakup of Nick and Jessica.

               

Like pouring salt in a wound.

Look how happy they are.....and how thin she is.

KKTNY

Last night I watched the season finale of Kourtney and Kim Take New York. I'm pretty much disgusted with myself for even watching it. I swore off Kim K after she forced me into a 2 part 4 hour "Makings of a Circus" documentary, only to call off said circus 72 days later. However, my DVR picked it up and (obviously) I couldn't erase. So I got sucked in...to. the. entire. season. Gross I know, I am by no means proud. 

The finale focused on Kim's "gut wrenching" decision to want to end her marriage. Umm I'm pretty positive Kim and Kris didn't like each other - at all.  He likes working out and she likes fame. He likes Minnesota and she likes anywhere BUT Minnesota. He likes t-shirts and basketball shorts.  She likes skin tight Saudi Princess clothes. Oh and Kim is one ugly crier.  Hasn't this girl ever heard of waterproof mascara?

My favorite person on the whole show is Scott (trust me, I'm just as shocked as everyone else given how the Miami season went - yes I watched that too - did I mention I'm disgusted with myself?). He's funny, honest, and makes fun of himself.  I appreciate that fact. Especially when Kourtney is strolling NYC in 6 inch Louby's (NO ONE strolls NYC in 6 inch heels, not even Sarah Jessica Parker) and Kim is dressed up like she's Jasmine from Aladdin.

In an interview with Barbara Walters Kim said she used to think she'd have a lot of kids, but now she's thinking "maybe I'll just be an aunt". Given how she is a control freak, hates things out of order, loves cleanliness, hates clutter, needs to be the center of attention, and her 2+ hour morning makeup routine,  I'd say perhaps this is a good idea.

Bible.

IHop - the best form of birth control

This past weekend my dad and I went to the finest breakfast establishment ever built.....IHop.  Now for all you haters out there, knock it off. Quit trying to uphold some hoity toity "image". It's literally impossible not to like IHop. Never ending pancakes? Check. Nutella smeared crepes? Check. 4000 calorie stuffed french toast? Check. Latte served with whipped cream and chocolate chips? Double check.

And where else can you see all walks of life converging for one meal? The guy to my right was studying (ya, fuck you starbucks), the family diagnoal from me had 7 children (tied with the Gosselins, long way to go to the Duggars), and then there was the family where the woman kept putting whipped cream on her nose trying to get her husband to lick it off and instead it kept falling on her boob - which was being held up not by a bra, but by the table.

As I was eating my delectable granola pancakes (yes they have them - I'm sure they're covered in sugar - but I tried) and having an engaging political discussion with my father I look up and see a man holding his son/grandson/kid he kidnapped (who knows) and then it happened. Old faithful blew it's cap. Vomit starting running out of this kids mouth a river. It. Just. Kept. Coming. My face must have contorted into some awful expression because my dad goes "what the hell is wrong with you?". Silence. No words. The dad/grandfather/kidnapper proceeds to take the boy out of the restaurant. Vomit is straight up everywhere. Seat, table, floor. Nothing ruins a meal faster than vomit.

Next time I think I'll keep my eye on the table boob woman and her whipped cream...

True. Story

as they say...shit happens

In my quest for a Marisa Miller body (not in this lifetime) I try new fitness classes every so often. Yesterday it was spin. Now, I've taken 2 spin classes before and I wasn't very good (aka after 15 minutes I was bored/exhausted). However, this is a new studio in a fancy part of town and I figured "hey, why the hell not?".

I was supposed to go with one of my best friends but she sent me a text early on saying she got food poisoning and wasn't going to be able to make it. Ugg....my anxiety started to kick in about a) going some place I'd never been before and b) having no safety net in going with someone I know so thus having to walk in alone...and loserlike (at least in my head). I took some deep breaths, ate something and told myself I'd be OK.

On my way there I started to get more and more anxiety "would everyone stare at me when I walk in?", "what if I'm the last person there?", "what if everyone is way better than me and I look like the fat kid?", "what if I fall off the bike?". My stomach started churning..... and churning...and churning. By the time I got there I was pretty positive I was going to shit my pants. Yep. Positive. I walked in and no one was in the lobby. Shit (almost literally). The woman walks out and I go "where's your restroom?". She replies "oh it's in the very back, but let me get you to sign the waiver first". I sign. No fucking idea what I just signed. For all I know they're going to beat me in there and I won't even be able to walk again. Then she goes "Ok, now Mike (the teacher) will get you all set up on a bike". "I really need to go the bathroom first". She stares at me. Lady this is no joke. So I walk (ok, borderline run..kind of like trot) to the bathroom. It's. Not. Pretty.

I find my way to a bike (feeling severely dehydrated at this point) and just repeat the mantra "it's only an hour, you can do it..at least you look 5 pounds thinner". Mike explains to the class that there will be a giant projector showing where everyone's, but insists "it is not a competition, you're only competing against yourself".

Yah, suck it buddy, I'm racing all these bitches. So the race begins....err I mean the class. I manage to hold the lead for 20 minutes (knowing I can't sustain the pace). I hold 2nd place for a solid half hour. The last 10 minutes though a girl manages to catch up to me, I'm frantically pedaling...she's frantically pedaling....last sprint begins..I see her legs whirling and whirling, I feel dehydration setting in, but I'll be damned if I give up. Just as I feel the effect of my sudden loss of all the inner contents of my body, Mike calls it "DONE!"

I look up....bitch beat me by 8 points.

I ended up in 3rd - bronze medal. No one even remembers who wins bronze....

I blame poomageddon. Next time though...next time gold is mine.

Love. It.

I mean, doesn't everyone?

A few weeks ago we went to Six Flags Holiday in the Park with some friends. I LOVE LOVE LOVE rollercoasters (adrenaline junkie; case in point: went skydiving on Valentines day a few years ago - - strange combo? yah, not to me).  Well upon recapping our favorites that night my boyfriend and I settled on one called the "Titan". It's amazing, killer drop, huge knot in your stomach. It's awesome.

Well I made the comment that it's so weird when in the middle where it slows down I black out for a couple seconds. He goes "umm what do you mean?" I go "ya know, like I can't see anything ,everything goes black". And his voice escalates and he goes "that is NOT good!". Then I realize I said something wrong so I go "err, it's more like everything goes gray...yah...like a dark gray...greige".  He goes "seriously? This isn't good". Ummm...."Ya know I think it's more like misty white, yah like a dirty white...not even gray".  He just looks at me, so obviously I go where any normal person would go: brain tumor. (on top of being an adrenaline junkie, I'm irrational and....crazy).

I envision my upcoming months of chemo and what I'll look like without hair (not good, I have an oddly shaped head). My boyfriend snaps me back to reality when he says "you shouldn't do those rides anymore".

Umm are you fucking drunk? That's not happening? Who doesn't like a good black out every now and then?

                                

FAIL

Yesterday I had an entire conversation with camel toe. Not like see the lines of my vagina camel toe, more like "damn I wish I get get my pants out of my vagina" camel toe.

I have no fucking idea what the person was saying to me because ALL I wanted to do was do a little shimmy and pull my pants down a bit.

So that's a no right??

My very first night in my dorm room in college my 18 year old self and my roommate decided to go rent a movie at the video store right around the corner. We were super jazzed to have a rental place so close to campus.

We walked in a quickly realized this was no blockbuster. There was a black curtain towards the back. Whips hung from the walls. We'd never really heard of any of the titles.

Fuck, are we in a porn store? Yep.

The man goes, "Can I help you ladies?"

"Err, I take it you don't have Romy and Michele's High School Reunion?"

"Don't Cry for Me Argentina"

So I just got home from drinks with one of my best friends, Lindsay. We went to a wine place where the idea is to taste a bunch of wines, pick your fav, then buy a glass. We tried two, then decided it was cheaper to buy a bottle.

Earlier today she bought a FABULOUS and I mean seriously fabulous pair of shoes. So we found a couch, curled up with our bottle of wine and stared at her shoes (for what is probably considered a lunatic amount of time - whatever, they're fucking fabulous).

We soon realized there was a girl who had come to the wine bar with the waterworks fully turned on. She was full on crying at the table with her friend. Umm...inappropriate.  Now I am all for the wine + tears = self healing. However, PUBLIC PLACE is not included in that equation.  Girlfriend had her hand right above her eyebrow and her head cocked down, as if to hide herself. Umm yah I can see you. You look stupid. Stop crying in a public place. You want to cry at home while drinking wine and watching sex and the city - go for it. You want to cry and get wasted before going to a trashy bar looking for a guy who's only borderline heinous to sleep with for self medication - go for it.  You want to get dressed up, go to a fancy wine bar, and cry at a table next to my friend in her fabulous shoes -
DONT. FUCKING. DO. IT.

Lindsay says "what if her mother just died?".
"Umm and she went to a fucking wine bar to mourn? "