Survivor
Watched "Survivor" with the hubs tonight.
(I know -I too was shocked that this show is still on. Guess it must be watched by the same people who watch American Idol – yes, that includes you, Nolan).
I never watched beyond the first season, so I forgot how crazy all the alliance stuff is.
But the biggest observation I walked away with?
If you are a grown ass man with hair long enough to put in a slimy pony tail, you are creepy.
Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect $200. You are just creepy, and must go to Creepy Jail.
You are sentenced to bunk with Creepy Dude Who Wears Long Gold Chains and Creepy Dude That Winks at Inappropriate Moments. Don't drop the soap.
After making this observation to Cheese, however, he rewarded my keen sense of character with this:
“But they make for such passionate lovers.”
Like peas in a pod, we are.
A vomit-filled, scratch-your-skin-off-your-body-type pod.
Turtle Vindication
Got in my second to last long brick before the big Kansas 70.3 debut.
Oh, by the way - Have I mentioned that Cheese’s entire family (and some friends) will be spectating this beauty?
Seemed I forgot this might be a side-effect of doing a race in his home state.
No pressure, no pressure at all. Hopefully he can educate them about the acronym DFL while I’m out of the bike.
(Dead Fucking Last, for those outside the sports world)
Anyslowass, I had the weirdest experience.
I was so totally physically into it – felt great, felt strong, felt like I could turn around and do all four hours again.
But mentally, I was a sick, hot mess.
I mean, talk about Bad Attitude Sally.
In full disclosure, I believe PMS (yes men, it exists, its bad, so shut the eff up before I club you with my Super Absorbency Tampon) was part of this mood.
But then, it would sour even more every time (6) my effing water bottles hopped right out of the water cages onto the ground. And that doesn't even include the amount of time I spent reaching back mid-ride to make sure they were pushed down - so as NOT to jump the cages.
But EVERY.SINGLE.BUMP, I tell you.
Somewhere in the residential section of Highland Park, I was screaming at my bottle in the middle of the street, and then turning my verbal vengeance towards the cages themselves.
Like the true period-pending lunatic I am.
But the icing on the cake (no post is complete without a cake frosting mention) was when I finally found a bathroom after holding “it” for 30ish miles.
I damn near threw my bike down as I rushed into the park outhouse, yanked down my sweaty shorts and commenced “the hover.”
Mid-hover, however, I had the bright idea to also blow my endlessly runny nose – you know, to expedite time. Nose-blowing being oh-so-time-consuming that I couldn't be bothered with an extra two seconds to do it post-pee.
Oh, I didn’t mention that I was apparently time-trialing? Against myself? And the wind?
Turns out that when you hover, you have a little less “stream control.”
So all it took was one hard blow and Good Ol’ Meggy was riding home in urine-soaked pantaloons.
And socks.
I mean, why the hell did I bother to stop in the first place? I could have just kept pace and taken care of business on somewhere along Sheridan Road.
There’s really no moral of the story here. I would say, “lesson learned,” but I know myself, and there will surely be a next time.
My money’s on Kansas 70.3.
‘Cause I’m a crowd pleaser.
Showing posts with label tv. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tv. Show all posts
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
As the Mind Turns
A. Before anything else, I wanted to give a HUGE congrats to Steph, who placed FIRST in her age group in this weekends indoor tri at her gym!! And crazier - she did it while nursing a cold too! You're a badass, Ms. Steph!
B. In honor of No Cuss Week, this was submitted by Flatman. Enjoy. I did.
C. A List!
Top Ten Things I’ve Leaned from Watching True Crime Shows (Specifcally “First 48,” "DEA," and "Manhunters")
1. My parents were right – nothing good happens after 10pm.
2. No one wakes up in the morning and decides to be a murderer – that is, if you are going to kill someone, chances are you are already in the system for a litany of other crimes.
3. Criminals are not as smart as CSI and Law and Order would have you believe. Why? Because it seems that many crimes are done impulsively, and not really thought through. Thus, the “strategy” is lacking, if you will.
4. Speaking of strategy, hiding a semi automatic weapon in the dirty laundry basket pretty much signs your walking papers to the Pokey. Lock. Key. Done.
5. Surviving a robbery is similar to surviving a plane crash – the act is just as random, and you’re just as likely to get out alive (read: you’re not).
6. If a car is on fire, there’s dead body inside. So call the police. And lock your doors.
7, Like my dad used to say – you run with dogs, you get fleas. Hence, you hang with drug dealers and gang bangers, you will likely die at some point. And not naturally.
8. It never ceases to amaze me how little value some people place on human life. It’s like killing someone is the ONLY option of conflict resolution.
9. If you’re a bad guy, chances are you have a nickname (Lil’ D and J-Roc being the more popular). And oddly, not one person in your life will know your real name.
10. If a cop picks you up and brings you into the “Homicide” department for questioning, there’s a p.r.e.t.t.y. good chance they already have your number. Hence, when they ask you where you were on Friday night, they already know. Keep that in mind, and lie accordingly.
In addition to these observations, I have to speak to a startling episode. On this one episode, this guy confessed to shooting four adults (two of which were his brother and sister-in-law) to death, stabbing two children to death, and beating the life nearly out of three other children (stabbing one of them in the head as well). Pretty horrible right? But the starling part was that, after he confesses, his mother holds his hands, then hugs him and says I love you – the entire time lacking any sort of emotional affect whatsoever.
Why does this surprise me? Well, let me just say that if that were me, and I told my mom I just murdered my brother, his wife, and two for their five children, and was a monster enough to stab the faces off the other three, I am fairly certain she wouldn’t offer a hug and some comforting words.
Rather, my guess is that, right before she grasps her own heart and falls into cardiac arrest, she’ll fashion a shank out of the investigators Bic pen and shove right in my throat. This, to me, seems the more appropriate reaction then a hug and an “Everyone makes mistakes” speech.
Yes?
B. In honor of No Cuss Week, this was submitted by Flatman. Enjoy. I did.
C. A List!
Top Ten Things I’ve Leaned from Watching True Crime Shows (Specifcally “First 48,” "DEA," and "Manhunters")
1. My parents were right – nothing good happens after 10pm.
2. No one wakes up in the morning and decides to be a murderer – that is, if you are going to kill someone, chances are you are already in the system for a litany of other crimes.
3. Criminals are not as smart as CSI and Law and Order would have you believe. Why? Because it seems that many crimes are done impulsively, and not really thought through. Thus, the “strategy” is lacking, if you will.
4. Speaking of strategy, hiding a semi automatic weapon in the dirty laundry basket pretty much signs your walking papers to the Pokey. Lock. Key. Done.
5. Surviving a robbery is similar to surviving a plane crash – the act is just as random, and you’re just as likely to get out alive (read: you’re not).
6. If a car is on fire, there’s dead body inside. So call the police. And lock your doors.
7, Like my dad used to say – you run with dogs, you get fleas. Hence, you hang with drug dealers and gang bangers, you will likely die at some point. And not naturally.
8. It never ceases to amaze me how little value some people place on human life. It’s like killing someone is the ONLY option of conflict resolution.
9. If you’re a bad guy, chances are you have a nickname (Lil’ D and J-Roc being the more popular). And oddly, not one person in your life will know your real name.
10. If a cop picks you up and brings you into the “Homicide” department for questioning, there’s a p.r.e.t.t.y. good chance they already have your number. Hence, when they ask you where you were on Friday night, they already know. Keep that in mind, and lie accordingly.
In addition to these observations, I have to speak to a startling episode. On this one episode, this guy confessed to shooting four adults (two of which were his brother and sister-in-law) to death, stabbing two children to death, and beating the life nearly out of three other children (stabbing one of them in the head as well). Pretty horrible right? But the starling part was that, after he confesses, his mother holds his hands, then hugs him and says I love you – the entire time lacking any sort of emotional affect whatsoever.
Why does this surprise me? Well, let me just say that if that were me, and I told my mom I just murdered my brother, his wife, and two for their five children, and was a monster enough to stab the faces off the other three, I am fairly certain she wouldn’t offer a hug and some comforting words.
Rather, my guess is that, right before she grasps her own heart and falls into cardiac arrest, she’ll fashion a shank out of the investigators Bic pen and shove right in my throat. This, to me, seems the more appropriate reaction then a hug and an “Everyone makes mistakes” speech.
Yes?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Reality Check
Biggest Head-In-The-Ass
Is it me, or is Vicky from The Biggest Loser actually The Biggest Bitch?
Let me explain this – IT IS A GAME. You have chosen to go on a program where the goal is to beat your competitors by losing the most weight.
And if you are a threat to the person that stands to win it all, your fat, bitchy, complaining ass (or your husband) will be voted off.
Honestly, there is a ton of money at stake, and The Biggest Loser title, and Vicky thinks that people should still be loyal to their team color?
Give me a big heaping cream-filled fucking break.
And to say that if she gets kicked off, “it’s all Amy’s fault?”
Perhaps she should think about placing blame on herself and the fact that she did not lose more weight.
And my favorite Vicky line of the night:
“If I go home, how much weight do you think I am going to lose? I have two kids and work 60 hours a week!”
Correct me if I wrong, but isn’t this whole thing about lifestyle change?
Did Vicky eat that memo?
I would have sent her ass a-packin' with that statement alone, if for no other reason then to see her recapture her Burger King crown once back to real life.
I mean, I am not trying to be a bitch, but that it the EPITOME of how she got in this situation in the first place. Excuses, excuses, excuses - but no taking of responsibility for her own actions.
Fuck, as I sit here and struggle with my own bad habits, I know how hard it is to correct them, to get back on track, and to take an honest but tough look at what I did to put myself here, now 15 pounds heavier then I was just a few months ago.
No one to blame but myself.
And popcorn.
But I digress.
And what is wrong with Amy?!?!?!?!
Voting Coleen off?!?!
God help her because next week, if she’s below the line, Vicky is going for the choke.
Trust it.
Weave-alicious
In other bat-shit crazy yet-too-good-to-pull-your-eyes-from news, the Real Housewives of Atlanta finale was last night.
And for the most part, those weave-wearing, collagen-lip-plumping, fake-boob-heaving broads didn’t disappoint.
But the real treat will be next week, at the reunion – where I swear NeNe is about to tear the horse mane off of Kim’s evil ass head (spoiler: She tells Kim to keep her legs shut to marry men [Big Poppa is a married man], and calls her a hooker).
Oh, SNAP!
It’s pure reality genius, people.
Or as my sister Devin said, “It’s disgusting, yet something about it makes me feel like a better person.”
X-actly.
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Ramblings Continue
An Open Letter to a Friend:
Hey Jenny Aniston –
Let it go.
No, seriously.
Brad left, like, 20 Botox sessions ago.
Two years ago would have been a good time to stop talking about it.
Sour grapes makes for bad Whine.
I don't care how much Oprah prods or what movie you need to promote - have some self respect and lock it up.
Besides, good old Brad's saddled with a broad who's bat-shit crazy and six kids – who lost that bet, yeah?
So snap it up, and move on.
Love,
Me
Injustice and Principle
Why are all the things I hate good for me?
1. Swimming
2. Cauliflower
3. Pap smears
Right now, I am mostly concerned with #1. I think we are all aware of my disdain for that particular discipline. But lately, I am coming to terms with the fact that, no matter how much I bike or run, it will never give me the overall tone that swimming does.
And though I am working out almost every day of the week at this point, I continue to gain weight and loss muscle mass. My diet has even improved, though it was never all that bad to begin with. I truly do not understand it. It is BEYOND frustrating at this point, so much so that I am convinced I need to see doctor because something in me in malfunctioning. My final straw was the newly formed dimple at the top of my back left thigh. Like, not on my ass (though they exist there too) but on the thigh part.
When I saw it, it was all I could do to bite back the tears. Call me shallow – whatever – but I truly believe that if I am going to break a sweat working out everyday, I DESERVE not to have dimpled thighs.
And just to beat this pity party to death, I was in the 7-Eleven getting coffee this morning before my appointment, and all these people were buying up crap foods that I would NEVER think about eating – like frosted honey buns – and I thought, “Now how can you eat that stuff and not gain weight, but simply standing two feet from it just added another chin and three dimples to my ass?”
I wanted to choke some innocent people out…and all for a pastry.
Good thing that appointment I was heading to was therapy….
All Night Long
Recently, I have struggled with a nagging bout of insomnia. It’s like I lay my head down at the appropriate hour, but three hours later, there I am tossing and turning.
Like right now.
Its 2am.
The worst part is that I will eventually feel sleepy at 3am, which is way too late to wake up at a respectable time, but also not late enough to just stay awake and get up for the morning swim at 5.
I have toyed with the idea of raiding my medicine cabinet and tossing back a few painkillers left over from the kidney surgery, but I can’t bring myself to take them.
So awake it is.
Hey Jenny Aniston –
Let it go.
No, seriously.
Brad left, like, 20 Botox sessions ago.
Two years ago would have been a good time to stop talking about it.
Sour grapes makes for bad Whine.
I don't care how much Oprah prods or what movie you need to promote - have some self respect and lock it up.
Besides, good old Brad's saddled with a broad who's bat-shit crazy and six kids – who lost that bet, yeah?
So snap it up, and move on.
Love,
Me
Injustice and Principle
Why are all the things I hate good for me?
1. Swimming
2. Cauliflower
3. Pap smears
Right now, I am mostly concerned with #1. I think we are all aware of my disdain for that particular discipline. But lately, I am coming to terms with the fact that, no matter how much I bike or run, it will never give me the overall tone that swimming does.
And though I am working out almost every day of the week at this point, I continue to gain weight and loss muscle mass. My diet has even improved, though it was never all that bad to begin with. I truly do not understand it. It is BEYOND frustrating at this point, so much so that I am convinced I need to see doctor because something in me in malfunctioning. My final straw was the newly formed dimple at the top of my back left thigh. Like, not on my ass (though they exist there too) but on the thigh part.
When I saw it, it was all I could do to bite back the tears. Call me shallow – whatever – but I truly believe that if I am going to break a sweat working out everyday, I DESERVE not to have dimpled thighs.
And just to beat this pity party to death, I was in the 7-Eleven getting coffee this morning before my appointment, and all these people were buying up crap foods that I would NEVER think about eating – like frosted honey buns – and I thought, “Now how can you eat that stuff and not gain weight, but simply standing two feet from it just added another chin and three dimples to my ass?”
I wanted to choke some innocent people out…and all for a pastry.
Good thing that appointment I was heading to was therapy….
All Night Long
Recently, I have struggled with a nagging bout of insomnia. It’s like I lay my head down at the appropriate hour, but three hours later, there I am tossing and turning.
Like right now.
Its 2am.
The worst part is that I will eventually feel sleepy at 3am, which is way too late to wake up at a respectable time, but also not late enough to just stay awake and get up for the morning swim at 5.
I have toyed with the idea of raiding my medicine cabinet and tossing back a few painkillers left over from the kidney surgery, but I can’t bring myself to take them.
So awake it is.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Housewives and Husbands
Thanks to all those who have checked for a pulse in the last few days - got a little sidetracked with my piles of work and stuff. Seems I don't have a lot to say when I can barely breath under all the papers.
Shame Alert!
Okay, so while I have been holed up on Seward Street swimming in self-pity, child abuse cases, and bitch-ass reception sites that think it’s acceptable to charge $3000 just to rent the space between their four walls (three words – eat a dick), I have found myself taking time-outs to watch my new favorite brain-suck.
What is it?
Hold on…wait for it….
Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Gasp!
I know!
Not only is it uber-trashy (like watching 30-minute episodes of my high school life all over again, well… minus the millionaires and pro ball players….but with extra doses of hard-core bitches) but it is (gasp again!) reality tv at its FINEST.
Trust it, bitches.
This is IT.
And the biggest laugh of them all is the broke-ass fraud, Kim. She is essentially the only one on the show who does nothing for income (except apparently give it up to “big poppa” who in turn funds her lifestyle), she’s supposedly 29 but looks 59, drives a different luxury car each episode, thinks she can sing (but sounds freakishly like that karaoke video of me…if you didn’t find it, I’m not telling where it is), and basically spoils her children ROTTEN.
And she’s drunk starting at, oh, 8am.
Watch, cringe, laugh, love.
And then let's chat....
Facebook
Is it rude and conceited to ask: Why is everyone else I graduated with aging so poorly?
I mean, I’m no spring chicken myself, but self-esteem boosters seem to be coming in the form of Friend Requests by fellow Class of 94-ers that are 5-10 years into a marriage with three babies strapped to their asses.
For a while I considered: Huh, maybe I look that old and gross too.
But I have since realized: No.
Thank you running, triathlon and (mostly) healthy living.
In fact, I am healthier and in far better shape then I was in high school, a far away time when I favored oversized sweaters and khakis (to hide a body I hated), ate Marlboro Lights for breakfast and dinner, took up bulimia as my sole extra curricular, and mostly walked with my head down, so as not to attract unwanted and often negative attention.
I mean, sure, there are many a day when I myself can't find a brush for my hair, but overall, I think I held it together fairly well (of course, this is relative to some of my cohorts, and NOT, for example, to Cindy Crawford - 'cause that's one ageless bitch, yeah? Yes, please!)
My personal gems are the profiles of those douche bag guys (that made my life HELL) who are now bald alcoholics – the ones where, at age 32, have their entire Photo application section dedicated to current pictures of themselves, still shit-faced, still with their high school friends, and always at some football game/on a boat/at wedding, just yukking it up, like it was graduation night 1994, and the Black Crowes were blaring from some background speaker.
WHOO HOO!
Apparently, you CAN go home again, especially if you never left (your parents basement), and the bar closes at 4.
It's like a modern day version of a John Hughes "Where are they now?" movie - you know, the one where everyone starts out like the Emilio Estavez character in Breakfast Club, but ends up more like the Molly Ringwald's dad in Pretty in Pink?
Thank you Facebook – you have both eliminated my need to attend any other reunion EVER, and given me the solid knowledge that, should I decide to participate in such a function, I'd win a fat karma victory.
Shame Alert!
Okay, so while I have been holed up on Seward Street swimming in self-pity, child abuse cases, and bitch-ass reception sites that think it’s acceptable to charge $3000 just to rent the space between their four walls (three words – eat a dick), I have found myself taking time-outs to watch my new favorite brain-suck.
What is it?
Hold on…wait for it….
Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Gasp!
I know!
Not only is it uber-trashy (like watching 30-minute episodes of my high school life all over again, well… minus the millionaires and pro ball players….but with extra doses of hard-core bitches) but it is (gasp again!) reality tv at its FINEST.
Trust it, bitches.
This is IT.
And the biggest laugh of them all is the broke-ass fraud, Kim. She is essentially the only one on the show who does nothing for income (except apparently give it up to “big poppa” who in turn funds her lifestyle), she’s supposedly 29 but looks 59, drives a different luxury car each episode, thinks she can sing (but sounds freakishly like that karaoke video of me…if you didn’t find it, I’m not telling where it is), and basically spoils her children ROTTEN.
And she’s drunk starting at, oh, 8am.
Watch, cringe, laugh, love.
And then let's chat....
Is it rude and conceited to ask: Why is everyone else I graduated with aging so poorly?
I mean, I’m no spring chicken myself, but self-esteem boosters seem to be coming in the form of Friend Requests by fellow Class of 94-ers that are 5-10 years into a marriage with three babies strapped to their asses.
For a while I considered: Huh, maybe I look that old and gross too.
But I have since realized: No.
Thank you running, triathlon and (mostly) healthy living.
In fact, I am healthier and in far better shape then I was in high school, a far away time when I favored oversized sweaters and khakis (to hide a body I hated), ate Marlboro Lights for breakfast and dinner, took up bulimia as my sole extra curricular, and mostly walked with my head down, so as not to attract unwanted and often negative attention.
I mean, sure, there are many a day when I myself can't find a brush for my hair, but overall, I think I held it together fairly well (of course, this is relative to some of my cohorts, and NOT, for example, to Cindy Crawford - 'cause that's one ageless bitch, yeah? Yes, please!)
My personal gems are the profiles of those douche bag guys (that made my life HELL) who are now bald alcoholics – the ones where, at age 32, have their entire Photo application section dedicated to current pictures of themselves, still shit-faced, still with their high school friends, and always at some football game/on a boat/at wedding, just yukking it up, like it was graduation night 1994, and the Black Crowes were blaring from some background speaker.
WHOO HOO!
Apparently, you CAN go home again, especially if you never left (your parents basement), and the bar closes at 4.
It's like a modern day version of a John Hughes "Where are they now?" movie - you know, the one where everyone starts out like the Emilio Estavez character in Breakfast Club, but ends up more like the Molly Ringwald's dad in Pretty in Pink?
Thank you Facebook – you have both eliminated my need to attend any other reunion EVER, and given me the solid knowledge that, should I decide to participate in such a function, I'd win a fat karma victory.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Joke
Everyone uses their blogs for different reasons.
Me?
I use mine as a sort of personal journal. I mean, short of the “Dear Diary” greeting, it pretty much stands as an account of my thoughts, be them about training, life, whatever.
And if you have been reading me for a while, you pretty much know when I joke, when I vent, and when I am being dead-ass serious.
And when I write, I speak much like I would speak if I was talking to a girlfriend – off the cuff, sometimes goofy, sometimes crude.
I say things that are funny in my head, even if those words would never leave actually leave my mouth in real life.
For example, I would never say for real, “If shit pop off, somebody going to get laid the fuck out,” like I had stated in a previous post.
But I joke about using that phrase (from a song) to get sort of attitude-y and badass when I train. I wouldn't know how to lay anyone out even if 50 Cent himself was standing next to me with a 40 in one hand, and a 45 in the other.
In real life, I have about as much street cred as my 61-year-old mom.
Sorry mom, but it’s true.
Similarly, when I joked yesterday about “hittin’ it” with a character from a tv show, I would think that most people know enough about me now to know that I would never actually do that.
Aside from casual sex having NEVER been part of my personality, I would never actually “hit it” if given that chance in real life.
You know, it’s funny because, if I was sitting around my sisters, I would have totally joked about that without thinking twice.
But when I first wrote the sentence itself, I thought, “Huh. Maybe that sounds bad.”
But given the comments on a recent post about “telling it like it is” and not censoring myself, I figured, “Hey, people will know this is a joke. I can be goofy about it.”
So imagine my surprise when I was told that making that statement in yesterday’s post was “unbecoming” and made me seem “trashy.”
Apparently making a joke about having fake imaginary sexy times with a fake person is offensive.
Maybe it was offensive because it was sexual in nature (like politics, I rarely touch that topic on here), or maybe because I have a boyfriend so making goofy comments about hittin’ it with a tv character was inappropriate.
So to that end, for being offensive to my boyfriend, I apologize. I expect a certain standard from him, so I need to hold myself to the same one.
But it wasn’t more than two weeks ago when me and Cheese were joking around about which celebrity we would “give a pass” for – meaning, we would let the other sleep with if given the chance. I’d be hard pressed to find a couple (and some that have openly talked abou that on their blogs) that hasn’t had this “inside joke.”
And I call it a joke because it would never happen – and I would hope that even if GIVEN the chance, we would both turn it down. So hence, it was a just a joke.
Lemme ask you this - How many people in the last two weeks have posted pictures of half-naked Michael Phelps and/or have made “inappropriate” comments about him or his pictures?
I used to read the Triscoop threads, and there was this ongoing one about hot male/female triathletes, complete with pictures. Is that offensive?
Taking heat for being “inappropriate” is exactly what I was referring when I said I feel like I have to censor myself. And maybe I being overly defensive, but I honestly thought I was just being goofy.
If you were one of the people that were offended, I don’t know what to tell ya. Use your mouse, and click on another blog.
I almost feel like apologizing for how angry this post sounds, because I know people don't stop by for a dose of daily rage. But I am not going to. Because like I said before, it’s my blog. And this is where I am right now.
Whatever.
I’m O-U-T.
And p.s. I didn’t even get to go to Sonic because I go so caught up in working that I ended up being late for my meeting. No tots for me.
Fucking work - it's ruining everything lately.
Me?
I use mine as a sort of personal journal. I mean, short of the “Dear Diary” greeting, it pretty much stands as an account of my thoughts, be them about training, life, whatever.
And if you have been reading me for a while, you pretty much know when I joke, when I vent, and when I am being dead-ass serious.
And when I write, I speak much like I would speak if I was talking to a girlfriend – off the cuff, sometimes goofy, sometimes crude.
I say things that are funny in my head, even if those words would never leave actually leave my mouth in real life.
For example, I would never say for real, “If shit pop off, somebody going to get laid the fuck out,” like I had stated in a previous post.
But I joke about using that phrase (from a song) to get sort of attitude-y and badass when I train. I wouldn't know how to lay anyone out even if 50 Cent himself was standing next to me with a 40 in one hand, and a 45 in the other.
In real life, I have about as much street cred as my 61-year-old mom.
Sorry mom, but it’s true.
Similarly, when I joked yesterday about “hittin’ it” with a character from a tv show, I would think that most people know enough about me now to know that I would never actually do that.
Aside from casual sex having NEVER been part of my personality, I would never actually “hit it” if given that chance in real life.
You know, it’s funny because, if I was sitting around my sisters, I would have totally joked about that without thinking twice.
But when I first wrote the sentence itself, I thought, “Huh. Maybe that sounds bad.”
But given the comments on a recent post about “telling it like it is” and not censoring myself, I figured, “Hey, people will know this is a joke. I can be goofy about it.”
So imagine my surprise when I was told that making that statement in yesterday’s post was “unbecoming” and made me seem “trashy.”
Apparently making a joke about having fake imaginary sexy times with a fake person is offensive.
Maybe it was offensive because it was sexual in nature (like politics, I rarely touch that topic on here), or maybe because I have a boyfriend so making goofy comments about hittin’ it with a tv character was inappropriate.
So to that end, for being offensive to my boyfriend, I apologize. I expect a certain standard from him, so I need to hold myself to the same one.
But it wasn’t more than two weeks ago when me and Cheese were joking around about which celebrity we would “give a pass” for – meaning, we would let the other sleep with if given the chance. I’d be hard pressed to find a couple (and some that have openly talked abou that on their blogs) that hasn’t had this “inside joke.”
And I call it a joke because it would never happen – and I would hope that even if GIVEN the chance, we would both turn it down. So hence, it was a just a joke.
Lemme ask you this - How many people in the last two weeks have posted pictures of half-naked Michael Phelps and/or have made “inappropriate” comments about him or his pictures?
I used to read the Triscoop threads, and there was this ongoing one about hot male/female triathletes, complete with pictures. Is that offensive?
Taking heat for being “inappropriate” is exactly what I was referring when I said I feel like I have to censor myself. And maybe I being overly defensive, but I honestly thought I was just being goofy.
If you were one of the people that were offended, I don’t know what to tell ya. Use your mouse, and click on another blog.
I almost feel like apologizing for how angry this post sounds, because I know people don't stop by for a dose of daily rage. But I am not going to. Because like I said before, it’s my blog. And this is where I am right now.
Whatever.
I’m O-U-T.
And p.s. I didn’t even get to go to Sonic because I go so caught up in working that I ended up being late for my meeting. No tots for me.
Fucking work - it's ruining everything lately.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A Day in the Life of My Brain
Don’t Be Fooled by the Rocks
Most of you have seen this already, but I felt this particular story was worth posting.
JLo was on "Good Morning America" yesterday to talk about how she’s training for the 22nd Annual Malibu Triathlon. Some crew on the set of the morning show told MSNBC's The Scoop that JLo just doesn't understand why everyone is talking about "that swimmer" and not about her! The crew went on to say, “She couldn’t come up with (eight-time gold-medal winner Michael) Phelps’ name, and then she yammered on about how she was the one training for a triathlon just six months after giving birth, and how that was the big story right now, not ‘the swimmer.’ ”
The genius of this is that you know the media will be all over this silliness, and in two months we'll be hearing all about how JLo raised social consciousness for the triathlon and is the new ambassador, and blah, blah, blah.
And hey – if triathlon will open its wide forgiving arms to a slow poke lazy bones like me, then by all means JLo, jump in. But be careful – I hear HUGE egos sink in the swim.
And for extra laughs, Google the video of her at the Self Magazine shoot. Trust me on this one.
Gourmet
Chicago (land area) got its first Sonic!
I know – kinda crazy that, for a city that has a McDonald’s every corner not already inhabited by Starbucks, we didn’t have a Sonic.
And to be fair, it’s not really in Chicago – it’s actually in Aurora which is WAY far away from Chicago.
But guess who's got a meeting in Aurora on Thursday?!?!
It’s me, bitches!
I've already got Sonic fairies dancing in my head….
Flakes
This morning I woke up and, while making myself a third bowl of Raisen Bran, some flakes jumped RIGHT out 'da bowl and onto the floor.
I looked down, shrugged and said, "Eh, I'll get it later...there's enough down there that I won't step on them."
Seven minutes later, I was crunching right across the Bran Flake graveyard.
Aaaaand THAT pretty much summed up the rest of the day.
Put the Mic Down
No matter who it is, or what song they do – I get painfully embarrassed for people that karaoke. Like, I openly cringe. *Shudder*
Kill
Does anyone else watch “Generation Kill?” Love it. Have to watch each episode twice just to follow, but am addicted.
And Brad Colbert?
Sure, he can’t act worth shit, but I’d hit that eight ways till next Tuesday.
(awkward pause.....)
HAHAHA!
What does that even mean?!?!?
Eh, I don’t know.
It just sounded funny in my head.
But yeah, I would.
Most of you have seen this already, but I felt this particular story was worth posting.
JLo was on "Good Morning America" yesterday to talk about how she’s training for the 22nd Annual Malibu Triathlon. Some crew on the set of the morning show told MSNBC's The Scoop that JLo just doesn't understand why everyone is talking about "that swimmer" and not about her! The crew went on to say, “She couldn’t come up with (eight-time gold-medal winner Michael) Phelps’ name, and then she yammered on about how she was the one training for a triathlon just six months after giving birth, and how that was the big story right now, not ‘the swimmer.’ ”
The genius of this is that you know the media will be all over this silliness, and in two months we'll be hearing all about how JLo raised social consciousness for the triathlon and is the new ambassador, and blah, blah, blah.
And hey – if triathlon will open its wide forgiving arms to a slow poke lazy bones like me, then by all means JLo, jump in. But be careful – I hear HUGE egos sink in the swim.
And for extra laughs, Google the video of her at the Self Magazine shoot. Trust me on this one.
Gourmet
Chicago (land area) got its first Sonic!
I know – kinda crazy that, for a city that has a McDonald’s every corner not already inhabited by Starbucks, we didn’t have a Sonic.
And to be fair, it’s not really in Chicago – it’s actually in Aurora which is WAY far away from Chicago.
But guess who's got a meeting in Aurora on Thursday?!?!
It’s me, bitches!
I've already got Sonic fairies dancing in my head….
Flakes
This morning I woke up and, while making myself a third bowl of Raisen Bran, some flakes jumped RIGHT out 'da bowl and onto the floor.
I looked down, shrugged and said, "Eh, I'll get it later...there's enough down there that I won't step on them."
Seven minutes later, I was crunching right across the Bran Flake graveyard.
Aaaaand THAT pretty much summed up the rest of the day.
Put the Mic Down
No matter who it is, or what song they do – I get painfully embarrassed for people that karaoke. Like, I openly cringe. *Shudder*
Kill
Does anyone else watch “Generation Kill?” Love it. Have to watch each episode twice just to follow, but am addicted.
And Brad Colbert?
Sure, he can’t act worth shit, but I’d hit that eight ways till next Tuesday.
(awkward pause.....)
HAHAHA!
What does that even mean?!?!?
Eh, I don’t know.
It just sounded funny in my head.
But yeah, I would.
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