My Whole House Smells like Wet Dog...

My mom called this morning from Florida telling me that I wasn't allowed to leave the house because of the snow storm...

I was still in bed, so I had no idea what the crazy woman was talking about.

(I think that it's impressive that my mother is across the country and she knows about the state of my backyard better than I do...)


(She's freaky like that...)

So I was instructed to stay inside and watch movies and drink hot chocolate.

And I learned at a very early age that you ALWAYS listen to mom... I'm, like, a great daughter.

So I'm holed up in my house with two crazy dogs who think the snow is so great that they are bringing half of it INSIDE with them...

(I know that they look miserable... and I think Hannah fell asleep sitting there... but I assure you they are having a fabulous time...)

(Awesome.)

But I shall persevere, because my mommy told me to stay put.

(Unfortunately, Mike had to go to work. He took the bus so that he didn't have to drive... and the bus got stuck somewhere... but he eventually made it...)

(He works in a restaurant on an OUTDOOR mall... who the HELL is going there today?)

(I asked Mike that and he said it didn't matter because he was scheduled and he had to go in... he's "responsible"... loser.)

So I'm sitting here... watching the blizzard... remembering how it was in the 70s a couple of days ago... yelling at the idiots who think that it's a bright idea to ride a bicycle in over a foot of snow...

("Hey genius... you could get further CRAWLING... damn fool...")

(On top of being an awesome daughter, I am, like, the nicest person ever.)

And They Say Romance is Dead...

Last night The Bloggess wrote about this guy who proposed to his lady friend through a blog.

(Cute? Romantic? Impersonal? Creepy? You decide...)

But part of the whole hoopla is that people are supposed to link to their blog with a story about their marriage/love/wedding.

Since I have never been married or had a wedding, I can't really participate in that.

But I do have love.

(Cue the vomit soundtrack...)

Seriously, though, Mike and I have been together for almost seven years... and to those who say that the romance has died, well...

A few weeks ago I was having a bad day and I was crying all morning for no particular reason.

Mike had been very sweet all morning. He hugged me, told me it was okay... tried to make me laugh.

It didn't work, because I kept crying.

(FAIL)

Seeing that this wasn't working, he tried a different approach.

Me: *starting to cry again*

Mike: NO! If you start crying I will slap the tears right off of your face!

Now that, my friends, is L-O-V-E.

(He didn't really slap me... it actually did work because I burst out laughing (you know, that awkward crying-snot-infested-laughing/choking), and the day got better after that...)

So... there is my love story... congrats to the happy couple...

(She said yes, btw.)

(PS: I was going to write this last night but Mike decided that we should get drunk and I said we should watch TWILIGHT and so we compromised and drank while watching TWILIGHT...)

(Now THAT is romantic...)

Fit or Fail: First Edition

Lots of blogs have certain posts that are featured on a regular basis.

Badger Meets World has Song Lyric Saturday.

The Mom Chronicles has the Thursday Ten.

But the one that I am blatantly stealing graciously adapting is the Work it out Weekends series from Your Wishcake.


(She totally said it was okay in this post because she is officially the sweetest thing in the world. So don't call me a thief... I'm just not creative so I have to borrow my blog material from more talented bloggers.)

(You should read her blog... because I'm a very smart person who has never done you wrong.)

(Unless you're a hippie jam band neighbor of mine... in which case, you should just leave... now.)

Anywho, Work it out Weekends was my inspiration for this series that I am starting now, aptly titled Fit or Fail. In this series, I will be evaluating all of my fitness goals each week.

I am trying (desperately) to get into shape.

I'm unhealthy, and I'm extremely unhappy about it.

(Plus (I'm not gonna lie) I want to look "pretty". I know that people say I'm pretty, but I want to look pretty to ME too, which is not the case right now.)

So, I've made a deal with myself to change. I'm eating better (mostly), and have made it a goal of mine to workout at least three times a week (for now).

Each week I will write a post under the Fit or Fail title that will include any observations that I have had plus a list with certain things that I did during the week that were Fit and others that were Fail.

(I was going to call it Heaven or Hell and then list all of the things that were going to get me into heaven and all of the things that were going to send me to hell.)

(But it was stupid...)

(Because I'm not going to heaven. No amount of exercise will change that...)

I figure that by posting it on these here internets, I make myself accountable to everyone, not just me.

(I mean, if Tuesday I decide to eat a gallon of ice cream, then I remember that I will have to tell you all about it over the weekend... well, that's somewhat of a deterrent.)

(Or, I'll just lie.)

(But I'll try to avoid that.)

(See? Hell...)

Okay. Ladies and gentlemen: the first edition of my Fit or Fail List...

FIT: I worked out three times (twice in the gym, once on the Wii Fit)

FIT: I lifted weights... it was horrible. See here for more. (BTW, feeling better, but shaking my fist at hippie jam bands is still a challenge.)

FAIL: Ate a lot of the birthday cake that my mom made.

FIT: Threw out the last third of the cake.

FIT: Didn't try to take the cake out of the trash... (not that I would do that... I think... but I still feel that I deserve a FIT for it...)

FAIL: Girl scout cookies. Enough said.

FIT: Walked the dogs three times. (That may not be a huge workout, but YOU try holding an Aussie Shepard back from the many evils of the neighborhood (at least the ones that she perceives... like that border collie three blocks down... or that bicycle...or that leaf...) and then you tell me if your arms don't feel a tad stronger.)

FAIL: I ate a lot of guacamole. I know that avocados are good for you and all... but not the amount I ate... and not with that many tortilla chips...

Well... that's all I can think of... but I'll update if I think of anything else.

Hey! Look at that... there really aren't that many FAILs this week! WooHoo!

Here are my goals for the upcoming week:

• Work out three times
  
• Work out with weights, even if it makes me want to crawl in a hole with a hippie jam band and die
• Do something active on the days I don't work out (like walk the dogs)
• Drink at least one water bottle full of water (not chocolate milkshake or margarita) everyday
• Eat smaller portions more often
• Keep better track of my FIT and FAILs because this list is kinda lame-o

See! Now I'm accountable to you all!

(I also accept rewards if I meet my goals... although I would say ice cream is an excellent reward, it seems a tad counter-productive... so I will accept cash and pretty things...)

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...

My Baby Brother is the big Two-One...

Dear Andrew Jay,

You're my brother!!

It's your birthday!!

You're 21!!

You're in Thailand!!

(I know that YOU know all of this... but I'm setting it up for my blog readers...)

(And I know that I could just email this to you personally... but I am whore for blog fodder...)

So, since you are not here with us, we will be having a party without you.

(You know our family... we never turn down an opportunity to party...)

Even the dogs will be there to celebrate.

(I just realized that there will actually be more dogs than people there... we're kind of pathetic.)

My idea: eat Thai food... since you're in Thailand... I thought I'd just clear that up in case you were confused because I want you to realize how much of a genius I am.

Mom's idea: make a cake and let Ally pick the flavor. Hell yes! I told her that I think that this should be the protocol for ALL future birthdays in the family... so we're having FUNFETTI cake with chocolate frosting. I will attempt to make a portrait of you on the cake with the frosting.

Mom's idea: she is getting ME a present for YOUR birthday... AGAIN, this should just be protocol for all birthdays... including national birthday holidays (like Lincoln's birthday... Washington's birthday...the Nation's birthday... and of course, Jesus' birthday). So I am getting THE TWILIGHT DVD for your birthday, so thanks for that.

(I heart Edward Cullen.)

My idea: since you're turning 21, one of us should get gratuitously drunk tonight.

Dad's idea: it should be Mom.

So, your party is really a group effort...

I'll take pictures for you to show all of your monk friends.

(Side note: Don't tickle a monk... unless they look sad... then the don't-tickle-a-monk rule is void.)

(I just made that up... I would double check on that, though...)

So, happy birthday!

I miss you so much, but I am so thrilled slash proud slash jealous that you are able to take this journey of yours.

(I'm like 90% thrilled and proud... 8% jealous... and 2% hungry... I heart Thai food...)

PS: I thought I would tell you that while writing this post I hit my knuckle on the table and it HURT and I screamed profanities in PUBLIC with CHILDREN around and MARK laughed at me and now my knuckle is all red and that is the FIRST SIGN of TRAUMA so I may not have a FINGER when you get back which will really suck because it's my pointer finger and I type with ONLY my pointer fingers (mostly... it drives Mike NUTS) so my BLOG will FAIL because I won't be able to type anymore... just so you know...

Super Ally! Now Sold with a Stick!

I found this link on Badger Meets World where you can make yourself into a superhero...

Did that register?

You CAN MAKE YOURSELF INTO A SUPERHERO!

And you should know how much I love superheros...

So I promptly went over there I made SUPER ALLY!!



I know... I am H-O-T-T.

Except I totally cheated. I am SO not that skinny (they don't even give you an OPTION for a slightly chubby superhero... not fair).

And my boobs don't look like that (can't decide if that's a good or bad thing... at first glance they're pretty cool... but after staring at them multiple times, they're a little alien-like... and I doubt they're real...).

But I do tend to scowl and my posture is pretty terrible. So it's not ALL lies.

Anywhodle.

Part of the process is that you can pick your super weapon of choice... and I got a STICK!!

Sure, I could have picked the gun or something OBVIOUS, but a big stick is more my style. I mean... would you ever suspect that pretty little thing with the stick to be able to KICK YOUR ASS?

The stick is totally unassuming, and therefore TOTALLY LETHAL.

Now, I didn't come up with the name (the site generates that), but it is SO HELPFUL because without the name "Baroness Von Splintery Stick" I would have totally forgotten that I could GIVE MY ENEMIES SPLINTERS...

I got a splinter a few days ago and I was totally USELESS for at least an hour (wimp)... imagine if a really mean and powerful VILLAIN got a splinter... we could totally TAKE HIM/HER DOWN and THWART all of his/her EVIL PLANS!!

So, all in all, you do NOT want to be on MY shit list...

PS: If you go make your own superhero, send it to me (allyb at allybspeakin dot com) or post it on your own blog and let me know... I'd love to see it.

PPS: What would YOUR super weapon of choice be? Comment and let me know.

PPPS: I was told that some people don't know how to comment... so read this.

PPPPS: I want a cape... like... badly...

PPPPPS: Thinking about it, if I had a choice for ANY super weapon, it wouldn't be a stick. It would TOTALLY be a puppy... A villain would be all "oh what a cute puppy!" and I'd be all "yeah... well check out these KILLER RAZOR PUPPY TEETH!" and I'd throw the puppy at the villain and I would totally WIN!

PPPPPPS: No puppies were harmed in the writing of this post.

PPPPPPPS: I would never ACTUALLY throw a puppy... but it's still an awesome idea.