And So I'm Trying

(I feel the need to warn you that this is a weird post. In fact, you should probably just go read about shoes and true love and procrastination instead.)

So... What do you want to do with your life?

I hate this question.

It makes me panicky, and queasy, and

I DON'T WANT TO PLAY THIS GAME.

Because really,

truly,

I'm not sure.

I don't know.

And don't tell me that "nobody knows".

I've spent the past two years asking people about

what they want,

observing people when they

speak to me about their lives,

listening

to what people say when they talk about

what they love and

where they want to

go.

And the vast majority of them know. Or at least have an idea.

They have a clue.

They may not know how to get there, or have all of the specifics figured out, but the majority have a direction to go.

(I'm aware that, sadly, many of them will never get where they want to go.)

I have no direction.

I have no clue.

I am blank.

Yes, I know that I'm not

completely alone.

But this isn't about everybody else. Saying "but Ally, nobody knows" doesn't make me feel any better. That's like telling somebody who's just had a really painful root canal, "tons of people have horrifying dental surgery at some point", and expecting that to make it ok.

A few weeks ago, my mom said:

At some point, you have to move forward.

You have to make a decision.

You have to be an adult...

(Moms, right?)

I've spent the past two years

stuck.

Lost.

I've been stuck

because

I'm stuck.

[And probably because I'm scared. Of what? Not sure.]

Not because I'm lazy. Not because I don't care. Not because I want to stay a reckless, irresponsible kid.

(I've never been a reckless, irresponsible kid.)

Now, finally, I'm starting to move forward. I'm starting to push outside of my

very

comfortable

comfort zone.

And I'm trying to answer those scary questions. The WHATs and WHENs and WHEREs and WHYs that make my tummy hurt.

I'm trying not to run away from them.

I'm trying to let those scary questions, those

GROWN UP BIG GIRL decisions,

sit on my plate for awhile.

I'm not throwing them away and ignoring them as soon as they come up.

I'm trying.

Call it a quarter-life crisis if you want.

My priorities - and the people I love - are still the same.

[Those things aren't changing.]

But I suppose it's time to move forward.

To do

something.

I'm trying.

Sq-worm

The other day I spent some time pulling weeds. It had been raining, so it was easy to get the little buggers out of the ground. But with the soft, wet ground, came gross, slimy worms.

I just don't like them. They're all creepy and crawly and they come out of nowhere. Like when I pulled a large clump of dandelions from the ground and a herd? gaggle? pod? family? of worms came pouring out of the dirt. There were billions bunches 5 of them, and I was not pleased.

So I ran to the door and calmly asked Mike how he felt about worms, because I care about his emotions and all. He informed me that he didn't like them, which really fucked up my plan to pretend to care about his emotions when really I just wanted him to come outside and pull the weeds from the worm infested area. So I told him there were millions of worms crawling out of the ground and I needed his help and he asked what I needed help with and I said picking the weeds from the danger zone... and helping to save the worms.

Mike: Wait... save them from what?

Me: The concrete. They're all displaced in the sun and they're all going to burn up and die so get out here and help me save them.

Mike: But you don't like them!

Me: True, but I'M NOT A MONSTER!!! I may not be fond of them but I respect their purpose on this planet, and I don't want to be responsible for a worm massacre. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?

Mike: So let me get this straight: You want me to go outside and re-bury them?

Me: Well, just get them back onto the grass and they can... burrow?

Mike: Yeah, no.

Me: Miiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkeeeeee.

*Mike put his headphones on which I'm pretty sure means he wants to listen to music while talking to me, which is sort of rude but also kind of understandable, so I screamed.*

Me: MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEE. YOU DON'T WANT THIS ON YOUR CONSCIENCE!!

*Shockingly, that didn't work.*

So I did what needed to be done and got a stick and proceeded to pick up the squiggly bastards with the end of the stick and placed them in some dirt and covered them up so the sun wouldn't dry their slimy little bodies out because I'm a wonderful person.

And I've made my peace with the cluster of weeds sitting in that part of the yard.

It's decorative.

Free Falling

The Scene: the bus station in Denver, on our way to the bars to celebrate Mike and Mark's birthday.

I think to myself: if I continue to button up my coat while we climb these stairs I'm going to fall.

Then I fall.

Hard.

On my knee.

In front of a large group of people waiting to get on the bus for Boulder.

And, because the physical pain and the humiliation is causing me to get dizzy and nauseous, I PANIC, because I'm awesome like that.

When we finally get me off of the damn death stairs and get up to street level we notice that our connecting bus is waiting on the street. Mike tells me to run and I sweetly say "are you fucking kidding me?" so he tells me to hobble instead and starts to drag me to the bus. I take a seat and realize that I'm shaking uncontrollably. I take out my trail mix (which I have in my bag because I'm a child and require snacks when I leave my house), and begin to eat.

Me: Shit, there's bus station floor all over my hands!

Mike: Wipe them on your pants.

Me: There's bus station floor all over my pants!

Mike: I can't take you anywhere.

So I have a busted knee AND I probably have some sort of horrible bacterial infection from eating contaminated trail mix.

Jump to 5 days later:

The Scene: walking the dogs down my street.

I think to myself: there's a guy pushing a little girl on a Big Wheel across the street, so I have to stay on this side, because Hannah hates Big Wheel bikes. I'll just walk up half a block and then cut across the street, then home! Thank god because I have to pee.

So I rush up half a block, check over my right shoulder to make sure the Evil Big Wheel with the Evil Child with Evil Pigtails isn't near us... and I catch a glimpse of a guy walking behind us.

So I whip my head around because the last thing I need is for Bonnie somebody to go ape shit on some Evil Man walking near us and I then proceed to miss that all important step over the uneven concrete and as I begin to fall I say "You have GOT to be kidding me..."

So I jump up as fast as I can (because when you fall in public you get up super fast and act like nothing happened EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE BLEEDING FROM YOUR ELBOW) and I limped across the street and home.

So, if you're keeping track, that's me falling in public and hurting myself TWICE in less than a week. I have so many bruises and scabs that Mike says I look like a fifth grader. My mom says that I'm making up for the fact that I never fell or injured myself when I was a kid, and Mike thinks that I just need more agility training.

Blurg: It's how I feel.

I am sick.

Have been since I got back from Blissdom.

That's almost TWO WEEKS.

(And I'm not the only one. Which means that there was obviously some sort of terrible germ bomb released during the conference.)

(Alert the officials.)

I lie in bed every morning, taking stock of how I feel, and think to myself "Today. Today I will feel better. Today I will walk the dogs. I will go to the gym. I will clean the house. I will be productive."

And then I realize that I can't breath through my nose.

So I take another shot of nasal spray.

(I should buy stock in the stuff.)

And then I sit up and cough up a lung.

And then I brush my teeth.

And then I have to lie down for a few minutes because standing up is hard.

And then I heat some water up for another cup of tea, pour another serving of orange juice, swallow another multivitamin, and watch a ridiculous amount of Law and Order: SVU.

(MARISKA HARGITAY.)

And although I am now qualified to solve some pretty fucked up crimes, I don't really think it's that productive.

(Depends on how you define "productive", I guess.)

(But really, if you need someone to solve some crazy-ass crime involving drag queens or strippers or guys with foot fetishes, I am ON IT.)

Yesterday I decided to not be sick anymore, so I took the dogs for a walk. This was partly to assert my control over this wretched illness, and mostly because Bonnie had that look in her eye that said "I know you're sick, mama, but if you don't get me out of here today, I will cut you."

And I went to class where I started to see dots because there is NO OXYGEN getting to my brain because my nose is trying to murder me through suffocation.

And I realized that I can't push it. I need to make peace with that fact that my body will heal in time.

But that's bullshit, so instead I'm sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, because that's how I role.

PS: I thought it would make me feel better to buy things, but I can't really leave the house. And I have no money. So I downloaded a million free books for my Kindle.

PPS: Most of the books that are $0.00 on Amazon for the Kindle are either classic novels or Christian romance novels.

PPPS: I don't know why either.

PPPPS: So I have a ridiculous amount of classic novels on my Kindle now. I may never read them, but I feel way smarter.

PPPPPS: Feeling "way smarter" does not make up for the fact that my right nostril has been stuffed up for 12 days, but today... my left is more stuffed up. The hell nose?

Romance-y

I've never been fond of Valentine's Day.

The pressure (the pressure!) to be romantic, in love, nice, just sets couples up for disaster.

(Meaning, I usually overreact about something which ruins everything.)

(I take full responsibility.)

It never turns out like it's supposed to.

(The same goes for anniversaries and birthdays or any other "special occasion".)

Inevitably, someone will say something that causes their other half to role his or her eyes, to grit his or her teeth in frustration, to scream something regrettable.

The dishes will sit dirty. The trash won't be taken out. Something will go wrong.

Something starts the fight.

(And no, it's not because of PMS.)

(At least not completely.)

This year we made plans to go to dinner and then dancing Saturday night, and then for a massage on Sunday.

Lofty plans for someone who doesn't like Valentine's Day.

But, alas, I got sick, so Saturday was spent watching a crappy movie and ordering Chinese food, the nasal spray never far away.

(By the way, can you overdose on nasal spray?)

(I refuse to Google it because I know it's going to say "yes, you can overdose on nasal spray AND you're going to die".)

And the massage was postponed because nothing is less relaxing than dripping snot everywhere while lying naked and face-down on a massage table.

But with all of the canceled plans went all of the pressure. We just had a weekend together.

We saw the perfect romantic movie for Valentine's Day: Sherlock Holmes.

(The sexual tension between Jude Law and Robert Downey, Jr. was palpable.)

(There better be a make out session in the sequel.)

To be "valentines-y" we brought a heart-shaped box of chocolates into the movie theater.

(Eating a box of chocolates in a dark theater forces you to eat what you get rather than scouring that little chocolate treasure map under the lid that tells you exactly where the caramels are and how to avoid that weird coconut creme crap. This can either be exciting or stressful, depending on your various neuroses... and food allergies.)

(Also? If you bring a box of chocolates into a dark and quiet theater, maybe open it in the car beforehand because the amount of wrapping and ripping and noise involved in getting to said caramels and weird coconut creme crap is just astounding.)

(Especially since you're trying to be all covert and shit about smuggling Valentine's Day themed candy into the theater.)

Finally, we went to a crowded coffee shop where we drank tea and did the most romantic thing ever:

Mike taught me math.

(It was hot.)

And nobody fought over the dishes or the trash.

And it was good...

(AND I know how to do logarithms.)

(SCORE.)

What did you do? What didn't you do?
Do you know what log10 of 10 is?
Because I totally do.

Best of 09: Shop

I have five dogs in my house right now. Five noisy, dirty, barking, far too energetic dogs. Plus, one of them figured out how to escape from the backyard, so they're currently being held hostage inside.

Needless to say, this puppy playgroup is making it hard to concentrate.

Therefore, this is going to be short and sweet.

December 18th: Shop. Online or offline, where did you spend most of your mad money this year?

Target (because we buy our food there) and various bookstores (because I'm a whore for books).

Holy motherfucking shit. A dog just barked on the TV.

Oh the insanity.

Best of 09: Challenge

The sun is out. It's still 12 degrees, though.

(Why am I complaining about the weather so much? Because this DOESN'T happen in Boulder! We have a wonderful climate where it snows one day, and MELTS a day later. This snow? Has been frozen to my lawn for over a week. I've been here for 24 years, and I assure you, THIS IS NOT BOULDER WEATHER!!)

(If this crazy climate change doesn't convince you that something big is happening, I don't know what will.)

(And by "something big", I mean the Decepticons are coming. Obviously.)

The Best of 2009 Blog Challenge prompt for today?

December 9th: Challenge. Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?

Well, Blissdom was a challenge.

And being with my grandmother while she was dying certainly took me to my "edge and then some".

But my "best challenge of the year"?

The first time I beat my dad at Words with Friends.

It took a long time, and it wasn't always easy, but I persevered, and am a better person because of it.

(Clearly, I don't feel like going very deep today.)

Best of 09: Blog Find of the Year

From the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge:

December 7th: Blog Find of the Year. That gem of a blog that you can't believe you didn't know about until this year.

Yeah, that's easy.

(Not.)

Do you realize how many blogs there are? Do you realize how many are great? Do you realize that I can't list them all because my fingers are frozen?*

This is the "year of the blog" for me. This is the year that I expanded my blog reading outside of my group of friends. This is the year that I actually found that great wide world called THE BLOGOSPHERE.

(Dun-duh-DUH.)

(That was supposed to be "scary music sounds"... did that not work?)

Hell, this is the year that I found Gwen Bell, whose responsible for this whole series.

Essentially, I found ALL of my favorite blogs this year.

One that stands out right this minute? A very recent find called Ex Hot Girl. Jennifer is totally honest, completely hilarious, and extremely entertaining.

My current blogroll is way out of date, so I'll work on getting it updated as soon as I can, but here it is in case you're curious about some of my other favorites.

What was your favorite blog find this year?

*It is 9 mother fucking degrees here. NINE. And it's been this cold for a WEEK. I'm basically hibernating because Ally B is not meant to go out in this kind of cold. (My ears get really cold and then I want to cry... and crying in NINE DEGREE weather is really bad.) (Two words: frozen snot.) Instead of braving the cold, I've been trying to distract Bonnie. She seems to think that it's MY fault that it's too cold for her little paws to go anywhere.

One of *Those* Days

I had some very simple goals today.

Get up, get dressed, work at a coffee shop, and go grocery shopping for a nice dinner.

(We're having a nice dinner because JIM AND PAM ARE GETTING MARRIED TONIGHT!!)

(Yes, I realize that I'm cooking in celebration of the marriage between a fictional couple but ohmygodit'sJimandPam'swedding!!)

(Moving on.)

So I went to a coffee shop, unloaded my stuff, and went to buy a hot chocolate with... my forgotten wallet.

I forgot my god damn wallet.

So I re-packed my stuff and drove home and got my god damn wallet.

Then I went back and drank my hot chocolate and worked for a couple of hours, and then I went to the grocery store.

I walked in, grabbed my wallet, and grabbed my... non-existent grocery list.

I lost the god damn grocery list.

So I stood in the corner and tried to remember everything that I need for tonight.

Chicken? Check.

Veggies? Check.

Milk? Check.

Hot chocolate because wow it's cold outside? Check.

I got it all, came home and looked at the recipe and... got back in the car because I forgot a god damn key ingredient.

But, being the positive gal that I am, I decided it was a blessing because I also forgot to get my Count Chocula.

(Very important diet staple, people.)

So I went in, got the key ingredient for my celebration dinner of a fictional marriage and... they were out of Count Chocula.

The hell? It's OCTOBER, store! You know? The month of HALLOWEEN! It's the prime season for Vampire related chocolate-y-marshmallow-y goodness!

Seriously?!?!

So I got the Magically Delicious variety of dried marshmallow cereal instead...

(Maybe I'll pour some of that hot chocolate mix in there?)

Now I am home and in my comfy pants because, let's face it, it's where I'm obviously supposed to be.

PS: Bonnie was far too excited to see me in my comfy pants. She's just finished her 37th lap around the house all while thinking (I assume) "Mama's home! First she left! Then she came back! Then she left! Then she came back! Then she left! Then she came back! And now she's in comfy pants so she must be staying and it's so exciting because ohmygod I missed her!!" That, or she's high.

PPS: No, I don't get my dog high, you psycho. I'm just saying that it's a possibility since she's acting all crazy excited. If she is high it's totally not my fault... I blame the media.

PPPS: While driving to the store for the second time I realized that Bonnie's Halloween costume is a bee... which is sad. That's sorta like dressing a kid who's allergic to peanuts... as a peanut...

PPPPS: Yes, the dogs have Halloween costumes. Bonnie has a wildly inappropriate bee costume and Hannah has a flower costume... We. Are. Awesome.

Birthday Wishes?

Time: 1:15 PM MST

Call to: Ally's Father

Conversation as follows:

Dad: Hello?

Me: I HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY FOR MY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALL AND HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY!!

Dad: OK, hang on. *hangs up*

Time: 1:16 PM MST

Call from: Ally's Father

Conversation as follows:

Dad: *The Happy Birthday Song*

Me: WOW! Thanks... that was completely unexpected.

Time: 1:18 PM MST

Call to: Ally's Mother

Conversation as follows:

Mom: Hello?

Me: I HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY FOR MY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALL AND HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY!!

Mom: Well, I was being respectful.

Me: Respectful of what?

Mom: I wanted to let you sleep in on your birthday morning.

Me: MOM!? It's one o'clock in the freakin afternoon... how late do you think I sleep?!

Mom: Well, then I got busy. Retirement makes me a very busy woman. Plus, I'll see you in a couple hours. I'll call you soon.

Time: 1:21 PM MST

Call from: Ally's Mother

Conversation as follows:

Me: Hello crazy woman.

Mom: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUNSHINE!

Me: You saw my tweet, didn't you? You're just trying to make up for it so that I retract my tweet, aren't you?

Mom: Oh, let me guess, you wrote about how unloved you are?

Me: No... that's what my blog is for.

Then she went on to tell me about what an adorable outfit she's wearing today.

Awesome.

My brother didn't even pick up the phone... he is probably hiding. BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE MESSED UP.

PS: I did get a call from my Grandma... she said she forgot the words to Happy Birthday...

PPS: If you sent me a note or email or text or sky writing message: thank you. I appreciate it. You are awesome. My parents and brother should be ASHAMED.

PPPS: Not really... I forgive them... because I am now a GROWN UP, people.

PPPPS: Mike said that my birthday presents are on the bed and that I am NOT allowed to go in there. So I threw some cereal in there so that Hannah would go after it and then maybe retrieve the presents "by accident"... it didn't work. *Golden Retriever FAIL*.

PPPPPS: And now we're out of cereal. Damn.

ATTACK

My mom and I went camping with a whole gaggle of girls this past weekend.

And by "camping" I mean we took two amazing RVs up to a lake less than an hour away where we ate cheese and crackers and had root beer floats and an amazing variety of alcoholic beverages... and I got to sleep in a feather bed.

(VERY important when it comes to sleeping in the great outdoors.)

Then, on the first night, while I was brushing my teeth, my mom decided to set up the coffee pot for the next morning.

Mom: Um, that's weird... wait... what?... OH MY GOD!!!

Me: What are you whining about?

Mom: ANTS! In the coffee pot!!

Me: Ants? *Walks over and expects a few ants* HOLY SHIT! *Sees a SWARM of ants pour from a large coffee pot in a flood of moving back GROSSNESS*

Mom: KILL THEM!

What followed was several minutes of my mother and me smashing insects and trying to drown them in the sink (with a very small supply of RV water).

Then, just to be sure, my mother decided to send an array of cleaning chemicals down the drain... a concoction of 409, Windex, and Easy Off Foaming Oven Cleaner seemed to do the trick.

(And caused my eyes to water and my throat to swell shut... but DIE ANTS DIE!!)

Then we cleared off the entire counter, my mom pointing at anything that moved and me spraying the offending creature with my pistol of 409 spray.

(All while screaming KILL THE FUCKERS and OhmygodOhmygod-we're-going-to-die.)

This is why we don't camp.

PS: At one point one of the little dogs went into another room (yes, this RV has ROOMS), and my mother promptly screamed that the ants had taken the dog away... THAT'S HOW MANY ANTS THERE WERE... (and how freaked out my mother was by this event). (Logic has never been her strong suit in a traumatic event.)

PPS: If you're part of some Ant-Loving organization and find the mass murder of these ants offensive... screw you.

PPPS: I am currently in Florida with my grandmother, mother, cousins and great aunts... the sentence "We're not dysfunctional, just funny" has been spoken... It's going to be a LOOOOONG, very humid week.

To BlogHer and Back

I thought that I'd give everyone fair warning that I'm headed to Chicago tomorrow to attend a huge blogging conference.

So if I post about something scary in Chicago or something funny in Chicago or something that's neither scary nor funny but more about how I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR in Chicago... that's why.

You can follow my tweets of the event here.

Or here.

And I'll be posting some stuff over here.

And maybe here, too...

But those posts that are panic-induced and/or alcohol related? Well, I promise to post those pieces of shit awesomeness right here.

Overall... I'm nervous about going to Chicago. I mean, excited, yes, but the buildup is a tad nerve racking...

And if I was positive that Bonnie and Hannah wouldn't go all "Old Yeller with rabbis" on some child, I would totally bring them and pretend that they were service dogs...

Or my personal bodyguards hired by some government agency to protect me...

Or search and rescue (if what you needed rescued were socks and/or tennis balls).

But I don't think that's going to work... which kinda sucks... because I already had fake "service dog" t-shirts made for them... and gave them code names.

It looks like Hannah, aka "The Destroyer", and Bonnie, aka "Joan", will have to stay home.

Sad.

Fit or Fail: Apathetic Edition

I didn't write a Fit or Fail post yesterday because a bee stung Bonnie and sent the poor dog into anaphylactic shock. (She's fine today.)

Sooooo, writing about my adventures in fitness land was not really something I wanted to do while waiting for a call from the Doggy ER that told me we could go get her.

(The call came at 2 AM. The doctor kindly informed me that it would be great if we could pick her up as soon as possible because Bonnie "really wants to come home". The doc quickly told me that Bonnie wasn't being "bad, per se... she just wants to leave"... I'm kind of wondering what Bonnie really did...)

But here I am, with a sleeping Bonnie next to me (she's still doped up on Benadryl), thinking about my fitness. And I am realizing that I have reached that place where I always fail:

I have little to no motivation.

I have little to no desire to workout.

I have trouble keeping track of what I'm eating.

I don't want to go to the gym.

It would help if I had some amazing results to motivate me to continue. But? I have none. No great results. Nothing to help convince me that my goals are in reach.

Now, I'm hoping that by telling you all this, it will inspire me to be FIT and not let this lead to a FAIL. I have not missed one of my scheduled workouts (FIT!), and I don't plan on it. I plan on beating this apathy, because I don't want to start over again.

But, man, it blows.

Fit or Fail: Squats are not for Sissies Edition

Mike decided that he would try the same strength moves as me.

The moves that caused me to waddle around like a broken down duck for a week straight.

When we did the squats, push-ups, and other death moves, Mike said that he was surprised that it was so difficult, but he seemed to do okay.

But soon...

HE was the one with the waddle.

HE was the one who almost threw up his protein shake.

HE was the one who whimpered every time he bent down to fill up the dog's water bowl.

(Though he did get over it much faster than me... and honestly, he didn't bitch NEARLY as much... and then he went and climbed a mountain...but still...)

And even though I would NEVER wish that pain on the man I love... it still felt kinda awesome.

In other news, I've continued the same workout program as last week and I'm getting better. I'm still sore, but not immobile. I'm sure it will get worse once I add weight and different moves, but for now I'm happy I can get into my car without weeping.

Fit or Fail: Open Letter Edition

Dear Muscles,

What did I ever do to you?

Yes, I've let you go soft over the years. No, I haven't used you to your fullest abilities. And maybe I haven't done my best to give you the nutrients that you need.

But, seriously.

WTF??

I decided to get you all strong and stuff, so I asked an expert what to do and he told me to get this book. And because he's an expert, I went out and got it. And read it. And did the first two workouts.

And now? I can't walk... or bend... or lift anything.

Although it would be easy to blame said expert, or said book, I am going to say that it's not their fault.

It's YOUR fault, muscles.

You have conspired against me. You hate me. You have decided that I am some evil dictator in a world war and so you are going to take me down from the inside out (sort of like that Nazi Tom Cruise played... with the eye patch...).

You are trying to kill me.

(I'm ESPECIALLY talking to you, quads!)

But, I'm not stopping. That's just what you want, and I'm not going to give in.

I'm going to keep working on you so that you get bigger, stronger, and rue the day that you tried to take me down.

So, buck up, because I could really use your help.

In extreme pain,

Ally B

**********************************************************************

Dear Book,

Might I suggest packaging this book with a heating pad, and possibly a prescription for Vicodin?

In Serious Need of Hard-Core Pain Medication,

Ally B

**********************************************************************

Dear Expert,

Thanks for the suggestion and help, but I can't help but wonder if you're actually not only a fitness expert writer, but also trained in torturing people.

If you don't watch LOST, then you won't understand why, but I think I'm going to call you Sayid.

(He's a super nice guy that just happens to be an expert in torturing enemies for information... and he's a trained killer... but otherwise, he's a real stand-up sorta dude.)

I'm just saying that I don't think you would recommend these workouts if you didn't have some other agenda...

I just don't know what you want from me.

Thankful and in Pain,

Ally B

Confessions of a Born-Again Omnivore

I've been a vegetarian for almost two years.

Sort of.

I still ate fish. And I adopted the Joey Tribbiani rule and ate meat when I was overseas.

(Greece is not Greece without a gyro.)

But recently I've been thinking a lot about why I wasn't eating meat. I've never been someone who thought that eating meat was wrong, or "not natural"... I absolutely think that eating meat is okay... but for a time I decided that it wasn't for me.

Lately, though, I realized that I wasn't eating meat because I didn't want to let OTHER people down (mostly my vegetarian friends and family members)... and that's not a good way to live.

So I've decided that at this point in my life, I'm eating meat. If I change my mind sometime in the future, so be it.

With all of that said, I have some advice for those of you who ever change from eating little to no meat to making it a more substantial part of your diet.

It's not the BEST idea to go to Vegas and visit a restaurant that has "all-you-can-eat-meat-on-skewers" a few days after you start eating it again...

Because even if you don't eat a TON of food... you will probably eat ENOUGH of the pork and grilled pineapple or things wrapped in bacon, and then you will regret it.

Especially when you have to walk a few miles back to your hotel.

And even though you'll try to make it back to your room, you'll probably end up throwing up in an alley next to some hotel (don't worry... it was one of the older, tacky ones, so it doesn't really matter) in front of a whole crowd of people...

It's one thing to throw up in Vegas because you had too much fun drinking at the bars... but throwing up because you ate too much pork? Embarrassing.

Really, really embarrassing.

And kind of sad.

So... if you ever make the change back to omnivore-y... take it slow.

It's Still Raining so I am Here to Help...

It's still raining here in good ol' Boulder, CO...

As I am now an expert in passing time during rainy/snowy days, I have decided to share with you some of my wisdom...

(I'm kind of like Mother Teresa...)

And so, here are Ally B's Rainy Day Activities!

1) Read Ally B Speakin... so if you're already here, you're off to a great start... and you're pretty...

2) Watch the Lifetime Movie Network. Before you know it, it's Saturday...

3) Dance in the shower. Why "in the shower"? Because you probably haven't showered in a few days. Also, your house might be on the chilly side, and dancing in the warm water (as long as the warm water stays on) will help you out. Finally, dancing can cause you to sweat (if you're doing it right), so dancing in the shower allows you to do so without having to worry about sweating, because your cleaning as you dance. So grab your iPod stereo (or radio or tape deck or portable record player), place it in the bathroom, turn it on to your favorite song, and dance away... (Added bonus: if you pick a song that you like but your boyfriend doesn't it will get stuck in his head and he will sing it all morning... fun for you, annoying for him...)

4) Finish a book. Have you had a book sitting around that you have been meaning to finish for three weeks now? Tell yourself that you will not be getting out of your chair until that book is done. Sit down. Shut up. And read. And, again, you can't get up until it's done. Even if you have to pee. (Having to pee can actually help speed up your reading. You'll realize you have to pee but you'll only have 20 pages left, so you'll read those last 20 pages really really fast so that you can go pee. Before you know it, you're done! Of course, you probably won't remember what you read because the entire time you'll be thinking "have to pee, have to pee, 12 pages left, have to pee...") When you finish the book you'll have physical proof that you accomplished something during these rainy days... (You might also have a urinary tract infection... but at least you finished that damn book!)

5) Encourage your dogs to attack each other play together. Egg them on by pushing one into the other and then throwing toys in between the two of them so that they must fight for who gets the best toy... This may sound cruel, but I assure you, it's awesome. The dogs have been stuck in the house for awhile and they need to get some of their energy out. Also, you get to use your funny voices by exercising your sports commentator skillz:

"Thank you for joining us today on this beautiful rainy day... in one corner we have Bonnie "The DESTROYER" McWiggles and in the other corner we have Hannah "BONECRUSHER" McWrinkles. Bonnie is playing it cool, acting like she doesn't care. Uh-oh, Hannah is taking a major risk here, going in with a swipe of the paw to Bonnie's face... Bonnie is ignorin- OH! Bonnie just pounced on Hannah and is now going for the rope toy! But Hannah is there with a mighty roar! This match is still wide open!..."

You get the picture... especially since I do it in a British accent (that sort of sounds Jamaican). (I was going to post a video, but my camera is broken... I would blame Mike, but I think that the dogs are sick of being exploited on the internets, so they took matters into their own paws...) I want you to know that know dogs were hurt while entertaining me... Round one is over (it was a tie) and they are now curled up together on the floor... no doubt planning their next attack strategies.

6) Hide crackers around the house and then have the dogs find them. This is an excellent way for them to carbo-load for their next match.

7) Try a new hair-do. I curled my hair (not on purpose... it was wet when I sat down to finish my book and since I wasn't allowed to get up to brush it it ended up curly... well, half of it did... my hair is weird like that...) so I tried many different hairstyles. My favorite was when I put it all into a high ponytail and walked around so that the curly ponytail bounced and I felt like a cheerleader... which leads me to my next tip:

8) Make up cheers. "Give me a "R"! Give me an "A"! Give me an "I"! Give me a "N"! What does that spell? RAIN!! It's RAINING!! And I am B-O-R-E-D!! BORED!! Mike! Pay attention to M-E! ME!!"... it's just a little something I'm working on... it's much better than my first cheer where I spelled out some choice phrases that reflected how I felt about this damn rain... I'll spare you, though...

9) Get a hair stuck to the roof of your mouth... the further back you get it, the more time it will take you to remove it. This is a fun little game to play anytime because when you think you finally got it... you feel it back there again... tricky little bastard... but man does it pass the time!

10) And finally, if you just can't stand the rain and cold anymore: check the weather. It's supposed to be in the 60s and 70s next week... thanks, Colorado.

So there you have it! I should also point out that you can do any and all of these activities with or without the rain... so if it's sunny where you are, please do not hesitate to try one of these AWESOME suggestions!

And please share yours, too...

(PS: All of these become exponentially more fun with alcohol... though you all probably could have guessed that.)

(PPS: But no alcohol for the dogs... that's not cool... you can be drunk, but they can't... it's just a good rule of thumb...)

(PPPS: You're welcome...)

Fit or Fail: World of Pain Edition

A very brief assessment of how I did on this past week's goals:

Eat healthier

• FIT: for the most part, I was very good! I ate NO Thin Mints!!

Work out four times

• FIT

Increase the weight of my strength training

• I tried to do at least one rep at a higher weight than I normally do... so FIT.

Interval train for my cardio

• This referred to the times that I went on the elliptical. I did interval training the first to times, but not today... you will soon learn why that was IMPOSSIBLE... so I'm calling this a FIT because I would have interval trained today if MY LEGS WORKED... again, more on that soon.

Eat on a more regular basis (aka, avoid that fainting feeling if at all possible)

• I'm still working on this one... I'm still learning the most appropriate way to spread my food out throughout the day... so it's a work in progress... but also a FAIL.

Move on my non-workout days (even if it's inside)

• I missed Wednesday. We were in the hospital all day, but it still makes it a FAIL. But the rest of the days I did very well, so I'm not beating myself up over it.

Convince Mike that me shoveling the snow really doesn't help ANYONE and that the job should either be his or outsourced to a teenager...

• The conversation hasn't come up... yet. Maybe I'll make a video about it...

Also, I get a FIT because I didn't make a whole birthday cake for Mike, and therefore didn't eat a whole birthday cake... we did have a treat (three cheers for donuts!), but I factored it into my daily calorie budget, so I'm not counting it as a fail...

NOW… the reason that was so brief is because I have something else VERY important to write about.

I am here to tell all of you to STAY AWAY from this machine:


Or it's cousin:
These are the hip abductor and adductor machines.

They should be torn apart and burned.

They should have a warning on them with a big picture of a crying vagina on them.

That's right... I said it.

In fact, I am now naming these machines the "VAGINA DESTROYERS"... complete with capital letters and angry red font.

(I know I could just say that these machines are responsible for intense groin pain... but I'm taking it to the next level because that's how I roll…)

So I used these horrible torture devices a couple of days ago and now I can't walk without looking like a duck... who was shot in the groin.

Seriously. This machine is pure evil.

It was probably invented by Lord Voldemort.

Or the Volturi.

Or republicans.

If I ever return to these damn machines (I'll have to gain function back in my lower extremities first...) I'll have to perform some sort of ritual with a burning sage stick, big drum, and possibly a medicine man, all in an effort to ward off all of the bad, vagina-hating spirits that obviously haunt them.

So, consider this my Public (Pubic?) Service Announcement...

(Goals for this week are to continue along the same path as last week. It seems to be working.)

(But with less duck walking... hopefully...)

(AND I should mention that I get a HUGE FIT for going and working out today, even though I could barely make it onto the elliptical machine...)

(I'm kind of amazing...)

Step Away from the Keyboard... Now...

It was a beautiful day... the sun was out... the breeze was nice... and I was enjoying reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies in the backyard.

(Best. Book. Ever. Bytheway.)

Then...

My Twitter from 6 hours ago:

The guys two houses down just brought a drum set into their backyard... no good can come from this.

Yeah... well, they calmly started playing a little bit and I really didn't mind because I was all into Elizabeth Bennet slaying the minions of Satan with her favorite musket.

Later, though, I realized that there was some noise... but I assumed that it was a car parked at the light in front of my house or something...

But the music didn't go away...

My Twitter from 27 minutes ago:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? God damn guys with the drums have been playing "music" for 1.5 hrs! OUTSIDE. It's 10:30! & turn off your black light!

I AM GOING TO KILL THEM... KILL THEM!

After turning off the TV I couldn't help but acknowledge that there is a JAM BAND in the backyard two houses over...

Drums.

Guitar.

Keyboard set to imitate a PIPE ORGAN.

And bright (black) lights...

And cheering.

And it DOESN'T STOP... ever.



Hippie Invasion from rhymes with milk on Vimeo.

(I know that you can't see anything (like the black lights), but even on my crappy camera, you can HEAR it... remember, there is a whole HOUSE between us...)

So I did what any rational individual would do.

First, I sent my dog out to bark at them.

(Actually, she's been out there off and on all night barking at them... but at this point I stopped telling her to shut up and instead told her to bark away and mess up that jam band-y beat...)

Then, I called Mike.

Me: MIKE!! Those-god-damn-mother-fucking-hippie-bastards-are-playing-jam-band-music- with-black-lights-and-I-am-officially-going-to-kill-them-and-once-they-are-finished-I-am-going-to-go-steal-their-drum-set-or-at-least-put-dog-poop-in-it-and- they-totally-interrupted-my-Grey's Anatomy-which-was-really-good-and-I-KNEW-that-Derek- would-have-to-save-Izzie-and-anyway-I-am-going-to-shoot-me-some-hippies!

Mike: Well... as long as you don't involve the cops...

Next, I did the most logical thing I could think of:

I put my IPOD into it's stereo next to the window and blasted songs from the Wicked soundtrack...

(Take that you damn hippies!! Jam to that, suckas!!)

(Don't make me go all John Cusack on your ass!)


(I actually thought that it had worked... but then I realized that I had turned the Wicked soundtrack up so high that it took a few seconds for my ears to hear those damn drums and keyboard...)

Finally, I documented that I was not the only one suffering here:


Interview with a Hannah from rhymes with milk on Vimeo.

All in all... a very productive night.

So... it's 11:30 at night... and they have expanded... there are now yelling females...

HEY RUDE NEIGHBORS! SOME OF US HAVE TO GO TO WORK IN THE MORNING!

(They don't know that I'm not "some of us"...)

What Doesn't Kill me Only Makes me Bitter

Kanye West |MTV Music

I went to the gym.

I went to the gym and used some weight machines.

I went to the gym and used some weight machines and now I can barely type.

These are some other things that I am now unable to do without cursing and screaming "ow" repeatedly:

• Putting the car in reverse

• Putting the car in drive

• Turning the steering wheel into the driveway

• Putting the car in park

• Slicing an apple for my after-workout snack

• Opening the peanut butter jar (I hear protein is good for shredded muscles...)

• Closing the peanut butter jar

• Getting the chocolate chips down from the really high cabinet (not necessarily good for muscles, but excellent for my psyche...)

• Quickly holding back 116 pounds of dog from the chocolate chips that I dropped on the floor

• Putting chocolate chips back in unnecessarily high cabinet
  

• Bending my elbows at all

• Taking my gym clothes off

• Washing my hair

• Adjusting the shower head so that it stops spraying water onto the bathroom floor

• Drying my hair

• Drying the bathroom floor
  

• Putting on mascara
  

• Changing my shirt six times before I find a top that makes me look less fat

• Giving Mike a high-five because I actually got off my ass and went to the gym so that more of my shirts make me look less fat

So yeah... I'm dying... and it will only get worse. But I will continue to go because I WILL beat SOMEONE at cinder block throwing before I die.

What is cinder block throwing?

Exactly what is sounds like.

How classy are we? Photo stolen borrowed from The Human Condition

Needless to say, I came in last. But not for long!! I shall work through my all encompassing upper-body pain and I will become the best damn cinder block thrower y'all have ever seen!

(Or I will at lease beat ONE person... just one... that's all I'm looking for...)

I have to go ice my entire upper-body now...