Engagement Party

Long week last week, followed by a long weekend of party. Went out to Kansas for my engagement party, thrown by Cheese's sister. It was fantastic, even if the weather didn't cooperate one bit (the half-marathon we were supposed to run Saturday morning was cancelled, so there was no way to work off all the alcohol calories I consumed later that night....) Not a lot of commentary today, because I have been thrown back into Work Hell, but hopefully Cheese's sister will send me the more social funyn pictures, and my jokes might spontaneously return.

Mama Q, Ellie and Me.

Me being sassy.

The in-laws.

Mamma Q and me.

The party girls. Note - I was eight drinks beyond my normal zero at this point. I was one Bud Light away from making some bad decisions, so shortly after this pictures, I took myself upstairs and into bed.

The party dudes. See Cheese?

The toast.

Down the hatch.

So that's it for now. More later.

So About That Vacation...

Yeah, DIRE NEED.

Anyone else feel just absolutely zonked by the time Friday rolls around?

My motivation to work or do anything really is obliterated.

I also work most Saturday mornings in private practice, so I kind of have to keep going until Sunday.

And then that's only one day to recharge!

And please, don't take that as a complaint about working - I think we all know how fortunate us employed are, and frankly I do enjoy my work. And given the recent budget proposal for our state -the one with all the cuts and that awesome income tax hike - I am going to appreciate it even more if I don't lose it.

Although the upside to working this hard is that I am making myself virtually indispensible to the team, and doing so with 100% completion rate (hard to explain, but trust me - 100% anything is really, really good).

So back to burnout - I picked up Cheese at the airport last night from his most recent 21-day work trip to Baton Rouge (and yes, that's 21 straight, 18+ hour days, no weekends off).

In addition to us being both Walking Dead, I was surrounded by people all tan and giddy from their Spring Break trips.

I could still smell the suntan lotion as they walked by in their shorts and flip flops (despite Chicago's 30 degree weather last night - ahhh, to be young again).

The only thing that stopped me from booking the next flight to Anywhere-But-Chicago, USA, was the fact that I had Cheese standing next to me after a very long 21 day absence.

That, and the fact that my schedule does not allow for any vacation time right now. I think it would give my boss a Grabber if I peaced-out for a week. I am already scheduled to be out of town for one Friday next week for my engagement party/half marathon in Kansas, and a Friday at the end of April for my half-marathon/visit my brother in Nashville.

And these are all good times - but not a beach in site. So by the time I could probably go somewhere with an ocean view, it will already be summer, and wedding stuff will be in full swing (not to mention that my vacation days repopulate in July, so they will all be saved for the honeymoon).

So Chicago it is - and I can just live vicariously through everyone elses trips and pictures.

Unless anyone has any suggestions......

Just Wrong

No matter what side of the fence you stand on when it comes to Washington, you have to know this is shitty:

http://blogs.abcnews.com/politicalpunch/2009/03/president-ob-15.html

Considering my family's own investment in children with special needs, and my post from just two weeks ago, this turned my stomach.

All the things he could have said, and he likens his skills to the Special Olympics.

How truly sensitive of him.

And you effing hell know that if this were a Republican, people would be screaming until their lungs bled.

Shameful.

Of course, this is a grain of sand on the beach of a government that truly seems to spinning out of control. For the first time since all this bailout stuff went down, I felt pretty hopeless today. The hole that they are willy-nilly digging this country is outragous.

I think most people accepted the stimulus bill out of fear and insecurity over a "crisis." When you are told by your leader that your country is on the verge of collapse, you freak, you trust, you believe. Were there a few things in there that will give the economy a boost? Sure. But were there a shitload more of things that in no way, shape, or form be considered "Emergency?" Absoltely.

And that's an important difference - the bill was an "emergency" spending bill turned lets-use-this-crisis-to-our-own-advantage-bill.

And now - infusing one trillion dollars into the economy - just printed up like the pages of my dissertation - is asking for a collapse. I'll fully admit that I am no economist, but this can't possibly be a good thing.

I mean, doesn't anyone in Washington think that maybe there was a REASON we have never done this much spending in the history of this country? Did they just assume that all previous governments were stingy?

Seems to me that it was never done becuase the consequences down the road are far too extreme. And while yes, we are in a recession - it is not the worst ever seen, and the country has pulled itself out before, without these extreme measures.

And I simply don't feel there is anyone up there that seems to give a shit, who can actually - with true honesty - say that they are "working for the people." Both sides of that fense are getting what they want so Fuck the people, right?

And for the record, this isn't a Left v Right thing - they are all part of it, they are all responsible for not slowing down this train. And we as Americans are responsible for buying Washington's bullshit.

I mean, millions of people showed up for the historical inaugeration- why can't millions of Americans need to now band together and stand in front of Congress and say, "WTF?!?!"

You know, people cried FOUL (and still are) that Bush used fear and lies to engage us in war - with echos of impeachment throughout his presidency.

What do you think Washington - and our President - is doing now? And with your money? With your future? With your children's future? Using a tough economic time to push through their own agenda - An agenda that has the potential to devestate our economy, change the basic strucutre of our country, and even violate constitutional law to do it.

All of this - this whole thing - just feel so shitty right now.


UPDATE:
I just pulled this off of an updated version of the same story:

"Obama made his comments at the show's taping, and it was unclear whether all of them would actually air later in the evening."

Of course.

I mean, seriously. Why fucking bother anymore?

I Need A Vacation

That is all.

My Brother Will Be Interested in This

Apparently, our pal, Dane, from the BL marathon fiasco, will be trying his running legs again at the Nashville marathon in April.

You know who else is running that race?

Yup - it's me!

Well, I will actually be running the half marathon.

But hey - if you ask the BL -it's all the same, right?

I guess you can sign up on the marathon site to "Run with Dane."

Even though I am already signed up for the half, I thought, "Huh, that would be interesting...think of all the scoop I could get out of him!"

But then I remembered - the marathons I run are 26.2 miles.

Yeah, I said it.

My Sisters

Sometimes I can get so caught up in myself that I almost forget or make excuses for not stopping and paying attention.

But this weekend I did.

On Saturday, after eight months of planning, rehearsing, learning, and developing, the 2009 cast of Special Gifts Theatre put on their production of “Cinderella.”

Special Gifts Theatre (or SGT, as its known), is a theatre company for children with special needs in a musical production for the stage.

The childrens needs that range from Downs Syndrome to sensory disorders to Aspergers Disorder to severe Autism. Many have extreme difficulty with social interaction, some are verbally limited, most are cognitively limited.

My sister Ellen, who once was a peer volunteer, and has worked up to being a Site Coordinator and Supervisor for the Aids (I’ll explain). And this year, my sister Devin was an aide.

So basically how it works is that each young special needs child is paired up with a peer mentor – mostly elementary school or high schoolers – who then shadow them as they learn lines, understand the play, etc. These mentors are also on stage with each child during that actual production too.

It’s hard to wrap the mind around the enormity of a task – taking upwards of 50 special needs children and working with them for eight months to not only learn lines, coordinate dance moves, and try to understand the concept of a musical, but to break through the many, many developmental barriers – it’s almost impossible to imagine if your not sitting there.

Now, Ellen has been doing this for years, and Devin was a newbie this year. I knew that every week they went to their rehearsals and their meetings after long days of teaching in their own classroom (Devin) or running her own business (Ellen), but I will admit that I often don’t think all that much about it.

But then, sitting there at the back of a packed theatre, watching parents cry to see their autistic daughter dancing in a costume with her mentor and singing along – it makes your heart want to explode. Literally. It feels like a heart attack.

It made me stop ruminating about my selfish bullshit, and appreciate something bigger then my life. Things that you or I do hundreds of times day without even thinking - like smile in reciprocity, or hold a hand, or move our bodies to music - are milestones for the children.

Now THAT'S perspective.

It’s a challenge to sit through the whole thing and not cry. I have yet to do it. This year, I watched with my mother, who was attending her first production. And at the end, as we participated in the standing ovation, my mom turned to me, tears spilling over, trying to talk, but finally just waving a hand in front of her face - a loss for words.

It’s overwhelming.

So in addition to just spreading the word about this program, my whole point in talking about this is to really say how deeply proud I am of my sisters and the amount of work they put into this.

I am so proud to know that this program exists, and so honored to know two of people that are part of the reason it does. The physical and emotional commitment to helping put on a musical production in this manner is truly something to admire.

Like I said – it’s so easy for me to turn so into myself that I forget all the good that happens around me.

And my family helped remind me.

Like, The Place With the Mormons

So apparently, all the pervs live in Utah.

Turns out Utah ranks Numero Uno when it comes to online porn subscriptions.

AND – ranks Number 2 for Google searches of “naughty” and “hot sex.”

Utah, bitches.

That's what's up.

So many questions, but let’s start with - Subscriptions?

Have the fine people of Utah never been introduced to Redtube?

I need Bill Henrickson to get on that STAT.

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?

H-E-Double Hockey Stick

So apparently tomorrow marks the beginning of No Cuss Week.

First off, I think its bullshit that it starts on a Tuesday.

Who starts a week on TUESDAY?

If my week has to start on Monday, so does Cuss Week.

Damn.

Second, if the money jar and the Dial soap sandwich my mom fed me as a child didn't work, I can't make any promises about a vague psuedo-holiday of Cuss Week.

I mean, I even try the old standby substitutes - Cheese and Crackers, Freck, Eff, Gosh Darn, Flying Monkeys - you catch my drift.

But lemme tell ya - when you just NEED to get that point across - when you just gotta tell a mother fucker how you feel - nothing really says what on your mind like a good old fashioned

FUCK

You know?

And I right, or am I right?

I mean, it's kinda like using the word douche bag when trying to describe a ...well, douche bag. You use that word, and there's NO mistaking how you feel.

And swears aren't all that bad, right? I mean, some are so versatile, they can be nouns, verbs, AND adjectives.

Like "shit."

Noun: "I gotta take a shit" or "I don't give a shit."

Adjective: "I had a shitty day" or "This is a shitty job."

Verb: "Don't bother me while I am shitting."

Now, I don't advocate cussing around young children - after all, cusses should only be used by adults, say perhaps, a right you receive when you register to vote or join the Army.

So, use this Cuss Week as you will - perhaps I will try to curb it, perhaps not.

But it's a interesting thought.

For the Heck of It

Today, I really really missed Ironman.

It was one of those days where I was just consumed with the memories of last year.

And it hit me that I am one month short of the year anniversary.

It was right around this time (last year) that I was doing my five and six-hour trainer rides, buying obscene amounts of Clif Shots and Balance bars, and doing laundry three times a week just for the gym clothes.

My body was ripped, my jeans were loose, and I felt like an effing machine, even if just in my own mind. I was strong and I was proud - I felt like the baddest bitch on the planet. Literally.

Aaaaaand here we are a year later.

Take all of what I just said above, and think the exact opposite – and that is where I am right now.

I think it's mostly becuase right now, I’m not really training for anything, so I don't have a ton of focus. I have a couple running races coming up, but probably don’t need to really start training for Steelhead (august) for a bit yet.

And you can tell I am a little bored and/or looking for a goal, the way I handled the no-winner-just-for-fun YMCA triathlon.

Like a damn lunatic.

So for shits and giggles, I did a long brick today.

Why?

Because that’s what Sundays are for – the long brick.

And really, because I just like the satisfaction of the long brick.

No – correction – I LOVE the satisfaction of a long brick.

I love spending my Sunday mornings in my own sweat, breaking through moments of self-doubt, and then finally standing in the shower for 20 burning minutes.

I love waking up sore.

And plus, it’s really shaming to read all those Facebook status updates of everybody doing all the bike/swim/run tests, or day-long bricks while I sits and eat four bowls of cereal. And read Facebook.

But I am not complaining about the lack of Ironman in my life this year – I am really fortunate to be able to do even just my one race- Steelhead - and to still have a job that affords me the ability to do this as a pastime.

I am not complaining.

But I just miss it.

A lot.

Okay, So NOW I Have a Beef

So I will first give credit where it's due, and acknowledge that I saw this on Laura's blog.

But her blog is now private, so I will relay the message.

But thanks, Laura, for your sluthing.

Okay - here goes.

So you know how I didn't really pitch a bitch about how on The Biggest Loser that one guy got the IM distance wrong? I figured - hey, it's still a big accomplishment, maybe it was just a mistake.

But then I learned from Amy in her comment that BL actually editted out the "half" in the guy's description - and that he DID in fact say "half-Ironman."

Ooooo-kay.

So BL lied.

Whatever.

But THEN there was last night.

Anyone else wonder how a man who was morbidly obese and totally inactive was suddenly able to squeek out a 3:53 marathon just three months later?

Well, I did. Especially considering my little sister, who is all of 100 pounds, ran five marathons in the last calander year (many of those as Boston Qualifying attempts) and her best was 3:53.

And the weight is not even really the issue - but rather the fact that a completely inactive man (for many-a-year) suddenly up and ran a 3:53 in three months?

An event that most active fit people need 3-4 months to run?

It sounds fake, and it apparently was.

Laura discovered the blog of a woman who also ran the race. Apparently, the woman discovered that Dane (who was behind her throughout the race) suddenly appeared at the finish line - in front of her.

How did this happen?

Turns out, a van picked up Dane and his wife along the way (mile 23), and drove them in.

And not at 3:53 either - the woman marathoner finished in 6:14, which would mean that Dane would have finished later then that. Well, would have, if he didn't get the van ride.

But yet, there they were, cheering and celebrating his "marathon" finish.

(I should mention that Dane's wife found the blog too, and actually commented that they were picked up at mile 23 and driven in to make up for time they lost while filming at a water station - whatever - he still didn't run the whole thing and he in no way ran it in the time stated).

Before I launch into my issue with BL, let me just say that, dishonest editting aside, Dane did his own part in deciving the public about his finish. I mean, he faked crossing the line. He perpetrated like he actually finished.

It may only be 3.2 miles, but then own your 23 mile run, and don't lie about it.

But my bigger issue is with BL.

First the IM thing, then this?

You know, a half-Ironman and a 23-mile run (or even a half-marathon) are HUGE HUGE accomplishments on their own.

So why lie about them? Why try to build it up to something bigger? Why not just promote the goal for what it is, instead of trying to make it into something else?

I mean, what these contestants are doing is at times hard to wrap the mind around - the stunning weight loss, the years of inactivity turned around through fitness, and new life goals they never before considered.

Hell, even a 5k at that point is a big effing deal. So celebrate THAT.

Eh, maybe I am overreacting to this.

But I remember when this show has the best premise and spirit on television. Now it just seems like they are being eaten up by their own hype.

If they just brought it back to the basics - the reality of what it's like to go from morbidly obese to healthy and full of goals - this blog might very well become the BL Fan Site.

But instead, this show is starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth - and don't get my ass started about the product endorsements.

Ugh. I need a new show.

Good thing I recently found "The First 48."

From weight loss to murderers.

Seems a logical progression. Yes?

Hustled

I fancy myself to be in pretty good shape. I mean, I workout about two hours a day, five days a week. On Saturday, I ran 9 miles on an incline.

You would think running up 94 flight of stairs wouldn't damn nearly kill me.

But you would be wrong.

Here I am, all smiles and ignorance at what would shake me to my core about three hours later. I am waiting for the elevator to take me up to the Hustle Up the Hancock.

Sitting in the lobby, watching people at the start line, and strategizing. See - I'm deep in my race planning.

Eureka! I've got it! Race strategy = run as fast as you can and don't die.

It's almost time....

Holy crap I did it!!! I wish I had a finish line picture, but I did it much faster than Cheese was expecting, so he didn't make it to the finish line on time to see me exit the stairwell. But he did reward me with a box of sugar love.

Final Time: 18:32.

Age Rank: 59/422

Overall: 862/4000ish

You can't really see my bleeding lungs and sweat-soaked shirt, but don't be fooled- that was one of the HARDEST races I have EVER done.

I know, right? It's like 94 floors and 18 minutes of working out - What the hell should be so hard about that?!?!

And I don't really know why it was so hard - but at about 10 flights in, I hit the wall. By 20 flights I was sure I was dying and almost started crying. I stopped three times to drink water at flights 40, 60, and 74. The lung and throat burn was so severe I was wheezing and suffocating myself. And the leg burn? No words to described it.

In fact, I was still coughing and wheezing at 6pm last night.

But now that I've done it once, I know I can do better next year.

In fact, I am sure of it.

Like, I'm-gonna-try-and-win-my-age-group type of sure.

So who's in for next year?

Is Nothing Sacred?

So this morning, I WAAAAAY overcalculated the time I needed to workout and get ready for the funeral, so I ended up sitting in my hotel room watching VH1 videos for a good portion of the morning.

Trust me, after watching the national news for my entire 90 minute run this morning, I needed to zone out.

So VH1 video countdown - the host is at some toy show. He's with a toy developer, and they are talking about the electronic Rubik's Cube.

Come again?

Yeah, I said it.

The electronic version basically lets you "turn" each module by sliding your finger across, a la iPhone style.

What with the actual physically moving of the sides so physically stressful and all.

And if that weren't bad enough - when you get stuck, it gives you a hint.

A hint.

How mentally lazy of a nation have we become that we now need "hints" to solve the Rubik's Cube?

I mean, wasn't the whole point and challenge of it to FIGURE IT OUT WITH YOUR MIND?

Apparently Monopoly has gone electronic too - play money also being too hard to count with one's own brain.

Speaking of play money - No wonder no one raises a stink that our Congress people are too lazy to devise alternatives to or even read the 1000+ page stimulus plan - apparently "easy ways out" are all the rage.

Is this day over yet?

Really? Again?

It's days like today - as I sit here in a hotel room at 6:10am, waiting for the snow storm in 19 degree wather and contemplating my 90 minute treadmill run - that I start to fantasize about seriously moving full time to Arizona.

I don't care if the heat gets so bad it will literally blister the skin right off my face.

I could use a good facial anyway.

A Few for the Road

1. So in about 18 hours, I will start my drive to Ann Arbor, Michigan. The last time I made the drive, it was about 7 years ago, to attend the wedding of one of my closest friends (and now bridesmaid). Oddly, this drive is for the same friend, but to attend services for her sister, who was found dead last week. Sad.

2. Late Saturday, I will pack it up again and return home, just hours before I begin my first Hustle Up the Hancock. I am crazy excited for this, both the event and the fact that I get to meet Jen for the first time!! A little race, followed by some pancakes and bloody mary's. now THAT'S a Sunday.

3. I didn't find any of those rainbows and puppies I promised yesterday, but I did have time to think about things. Right now, I am too full of Gumbo to put together a coherent thought, so I am going to think some more, watch my "First 48" on the DVR (weee!) and rest my pretty little head for my early morning workout.

4. Since I won't be around for the next few days, I hope every has a wonderful weekend! I'll be back with some pictures of Jen dragging me up the Hancock!

The Future of America

My mom called this morning.

She had a story.

My mom took my nephew to this child “fantasy land” thing where there are all sorts of slides and playhouses in this huge open space for little kids to play in.

If you have any small children in your life – your own or those of relatives – you probably know what these things are.

So anyhoo, my mom and Mayor Nolan go there.

And surprisingly, Mayor Nolan jumps right in, running around, going in the play houses, and going down the big slides.

So while waiting for the little Mayor to come down a slide, my mom – standing at the bottom – notices this 4-year-old lining up blocks at the bottom of the slide.

Not like foam blocks – but plastic ones. Ones that, if a child slides into them, could be hurtful.

So my mom says, “Little boy, what are you doing?”

Little boy says, “I’m setting a trap.”

(Side note – anyone else find it disturbing that this toddler is planning to intentionally harm other children?)

My mom, flabbergasted, says, “But the kids are going to get hurt. I think you need to move those blocks.”

And the young blond hair child looks up at my 62-year-old mother, and says, “You don’t want to make me mad, do you?”

(Let’s pause here and just absorb that statement. And remind ourselves it came from the mouth of a 4-year-old.)

My mother responds, “Where’s your mother?”

Young boy responds, “At work.”

My mom says, “Who’s here with you?”

He says (perhaps not surprisingly), “My babysitter.”

So my mom took the blocks away from the bottom of the slide so that the other kids can come down and not get hurt.

And the child looks back up at my mom and says, “You can’t do that to me.”

And my mom?

She says, “Watch me.” And she throws the blocks behind the slide.

And all the little kids start to slide down the slide, unharmed, while the little boy goes to hide behind a pole and cry until a parent walks up and asks what’s wrong. He keeps crying and points at my mom.

End of story.

Now, if you’ve hung with me this far, and your dropping jaw didn’t close the blog screen, hang just a step further.

Let’s throw this scene back to, say, oh…circa 1980. Now, picture a Lil’ Meggy (like, put my big ass head on a smaller body in homemade clothes).

If those words flew out of my 4-year-old mouth, you can bet your Big Wheels that my mother would taken my toddler ass right home. And then once at home, my smart mouth would have gotten a bar full of the Dial soap.

Now, I’m not condoning Soaping a child – My point is, my mom wouldn’t put up with that shit. She would be APPALLED if her daughter got lippy with another adult. And she MOST CERTAINLY wouldn’t try to put the other adult in her place, ESPECIALLY if I was the one in the wrong.

But somewhere over the last 30 years, this became okay. It became okay to treat children like adults, and let THEM parent US. Let them make the “adult” decisions, give them the “adult” say. They tell us what they want, and we jump and say, “how much?”

I mean, fuck the rules, the structure, the limits, and (gasp!) the consequences.

And all under the excuse of “But we don’t want to stifle Lil’ Jimmy’s self-expression! We need to let him be who he wants to be!”

These children are allowed to grow up too quick – and now look at us. Surrounded by “adult” children and their “adult” viewpoints. Their “adult” sexual behaviors and their “adult” substance use. I find it near impossible to not choke out the parents that let their children drink and have sex in their homes, “because at least we know where they are and that they’re safe.”

And then we look around dumbfounded at each other when they start having children at age 12, like, “Well how did this happen?”

I feel like I always have to qualify these statements with, “Well now, I know I don’t have kids myself but…” But fuck that. I work with parents day in and out. I can understand and empathize about how hard it is to parent. And in this day and age - man – it’s HARD.

Maybe that’s part of the reason we shouldn’t really encourage or glorify childbirth for teenager, no? Just a thought.

But what it ultimately boils down to is lazy or frightened parenting. Parents too afraid or too lazy to set limits and follow through with consequences.

No one wants to be the bad guy these days – parents all want to be their kids’ best friends.

But that's not your job.

Your kid throws a desk at a teacher? Ground ‘em. Take away the Xbox, and then build on the privledge loss from there.

But my favorite is when you tell people that, they look at you like you have a big nasty booger stuck to your cheek.

And say, “But if he doesn’t have his video games, what are we supposed to do with him?”

Uh, how about talk? Interact? Or maybe just let his ass sit in his room and think about how sucky it is that he has nothing to do and maybe next time he shouldn’t throw a desk at his teachers.

I know this sounds like I am beating a dead horse, given yesterday’s post on parenting. But I see this more as another example of what appears to be an epidemic in this country in regards to parenting, or gross lack thereof. I mean, the kid in my mom's story learned this somewhere. Who is setting this example for him? If he has the balls to tell my mother – an elder – off in a public place, what the hell is this kid saying to his OWN parents?

Gosh darn.

Okay - that's two days of ranting. I'll try to shot some rainbows and puppies out of my ass for the next post.

But don't hold your breath.

A Little Piece of Mind, with Some Phelps and Brown Thrown In

Just A Thought
Can we please stop encourging:
A. Mischa Barton
B. The Jonas Brothers

Why?

Because A is irrelevant ever since the "OC" became the "No See," and B is talentless. And no, 10-year-old girls are not appropriate judges of that.


Or Maybe I’m Just Too Old To Understand Kids These Days
So I’ve been on this whole “Let’s wait until the full story comes out before I launch a tirade” lately. I have decided to mostly sit back and wait until things unfold before speaking my mind (BL being the sole exception).

Now granted, I know this might take my edge off sometimes, but perhaps a little edge in the short term means a lot less people stuffing words in my mouth in the long term.

For example, you may be wondering, “Hey Megan – what are your thoughts about the stimulus package?”

And to that I would say, “Let’s wait and see.”

I know, right?

It’s like I don’t even know myself.

And that’s not to say I don’t have opinions – oh I do, and lately they have been aimed at not just the stimulus package, but this travesty of American media called "Octo Mom," that atrocity of a story about the 13-year-old boy in the UK who had a kid with his 15-year-old girlfriend, and the fact that it takes 14 quarters to park for one hour in downtown Chicago.

But for now, my "wait-and-see" period has expired on the Chris Brown/Rhianna incident.

(for those of you, like my fiancé, who have been eyebrow deep in insurance claims in Arkasas for the last several weeks, I refer to the incident that took place the night before the Grammy’s when Chris Brown “allegedly” used his girlfriend’s face as his own personal boxing session.)

First let me say that, yes - he needs to have his day in court. And yes - I did see that his father says he’s “remorseful.” And no - I was not there and I don’t know for sure what the details are regarding their fight.

HOWEVER - What we know for sure is that he did, in fact, hit her. So what pisses me off the most about this situation (in addition to the hitting) are the people that make comments like, “Maybe she started the fight” or “I hear she’s a bitch so she probably made him do it” and “She threw his keys out the window – I would hit a bitch too!” and “Now all the nazifeminists are trying to take him down!”

Okay people – first off – who is raising you?

Because in my world, no matter who says what about who, YOU DON’T HIT A GIRL.

In fact, girls shouldn’t hit boys either, but that’s not really what’s disputed here.

You don’t justify a female beat-down based on who started an argument.

You don’t look at a situation of domestic violence and say, “Well, maybe she deserved it.”

Maybe I’m old fashioned or what not, but no girl deserves to be beat down.

When did this become socially acceptable or excusable?

Oh – and the worst part about those comments I listed above?

They were all real, and all made by females.

Females that apparently think it’s okay for men to hit them.

And yes, the word “nazifeminist” was used.

As if those who support female rights rank right up there with the group of people responsible for the deaths of millions of Jewish people.

Really, people? Really?

Second of all – this child has been raised in a culture that glorifies female powerlessness. Although his own songs don’t necessarily reflect this – they are mostly more pop music then anything – he was mentored and brought up through the whole P. Diddy/bitches/hos/ladies-dancing-in-bikinis scene – and from what I understand, it’s not really a scene that promote female power or respect (and no, Lil’ Kim doesn’t count as representative of power, no matter how often she says her p*$$y is the almighty – in fact, referring to a female genitalia in a rap song is pretty much the exact OPPOSITE of respect, and instead a universal commentary on female exploitation, as a general rule of thumb…but then again, I am sure I am considered old fashioned).

Moreover, this society made him a multimillionaire with six cars, a mansion and a lifetime of entitlement, all by the age of 15.

Then he busts a punch to Rhianna’s face, and people are like, “But he’s such a nice guy! How did this happen?”

Well, shit, I don’t know – let’s call his publicist, stylist, manager, agent, studio director, video producer, album coordinator, and general assistant to get a comment.

Give me a fucking break.


Role Model
Seeing as I was dubbed “Narc” by my siblings, a loving term given in no small part to my ability to sniff out and rat on the use of illegal drugs during adolescence, I am the last person to advocate or ignore substance use.

I am pretty much the poster child for a drug-free America.

Bottom line - Drug use is no bueno to me.

But at the same time, I feel like people need to back the fuck off of Michael Phelps.

I mean, this guy has lived a fairly sheltered and rigidly structured life for almost his whole life.

The guy is nothing if not the epitome of dedication, commitment and self-sacrifice.

The guy wins an ass load of medals, and he wants to be a 23 year old for once – get drunk, smoke some weed, date a stripper?

Whatever man - have at it. Most of us try all this during college anyway (or, not so much the stripper part, but you know), but for Phelps, his college was spent growing fins and adjusting to his gills.

This guy sprinkled the dust of Olympics dreams over the scrambled eggs of his 6000-calorie breakfast every morning.

But what makes my head explode is all these parents want to bitch about their kids not having a role model to look up to, about him being such a disappointment.

Because correct me of I am wrong, but are parents supposed to be the role models?

When did we stop expecting that, and letting sports “heroes” take over that job?

Now, don't get me wrong. It's great to have people as examples of what's possible with hardworkd, focus, and comittment. It's great to have examples of "what's possible."

Phelps was like that.

But I am also a firm believer that if you provide a solid, respectful and supportive home for a child, that child can see shit like Michael Phelps pullin' bongs and say, “Yeah, well, that’s not for me.” Parents are the ones that have to instill the CHARACTER in their children that will ultimately help them differentiate what's right and wrong.

Phelps shouldn't be saddled with the responsbility of that.

Sometimes I think parents really underestimate how much power, influence and authority they have over their kids – mostly because in the last two decades, children seem to have take control over the parents, and parents just throw their hands up.

I see it every effing day in this job – where parents say shit like, “well I just can’t control him” or “I’ve tried everything” when they know they haven’t. Or parents that were emotionally absent or abusive or negligent for the first 15 years, and now they can’t understand why the kids doesn’t listen to them.

I may have a doctorate, but this shit’s not neuroscience.

I mean, at some point we really need to reign in this sports-people-are-gods bullshit. And while we're at it, throw actors and singers into that group too (Miley Cyrus, anyone?)

It time to give the parenting responsibility back to the parents, and stop whining about a 23 year old cutting loose for once.

I Won!!

I did it!

I won the Lazyman Triathlon!

I was the first person at my gym to finish the Ironman distance!

All told, it took me 10 days. It would have been 7 days (finishing on Tuesday), but my job has been MADNESS, and I am raging sick with some stupid head cold, so I had to take three days off this week.

When I told the Front Desk lady (because I didn't know if I needed to let someone know), I think that she did not believe me. I was like, "Lady, I work out two hours a day. Sometimes three. So that's at least 14 hours a week. I finished the REAL Ironman in April in one day in 14 total hours. Trust it."

I mean, ten days is plenty of time to finish something like this. Let's break it down:

Swim gets knocked out in 2.5 sessions.

I am training for a half-marathon anyways, so runs were regular, and rarely less than six miles at any given time. Add in a few cross-trainer sessions (which counted towards the run portion), and it was hammered out.

I ride my bike at home for 60-90 minutes several times a week, and often double up those rides by going to nightly spin classes multiple times a week.

Over ten days, that adds up.

Outside of that, I have had a post brewing about all the craziness in the world (sans political craziness - there's only so much room in my brain for Daily News, and this week, Rhianna and unfit mothers have taken up most of the space). I am going to try to write it all through the sinus haze this weekend, so perhaps a little bit of the old, bitter, opinionated Megan will return on Monday.

Okay, well, I am off to nurse my yucky cold with a hot shower and a long sleep. Have a good weekend and Valentine's Day (if your into that stuff)!

You All Know Me So Well....

Okay, I admit it.

I didn't watch BL tonight.

No BL, no Facebook commenting.

A big something came up this evening and I was faced with a choice to watch, or to get my work done ahead of time so I can attend to personal things over the next few days.

But as luck would have it, I was walking through the living room to the kitchen for some more coffee when I heard it:

"And now I'm training for an Ironman!"

Huh wha---?

So of course I stop dead in my tracks and there's Blaine in full bike gear - helment and all.

Intriguing, methinks.

I must watch.

And this is what followed:

Blaine: It's over a mile and half swim-
Megan's Mind: ....umm...that doesn't sound right....
Blaine: And an 80 mile bike-
Megan's Mind: ....what the fuckity fuck....?.....
Blaine: And then a half marathon!
Megan's Mind: wrong answer.

And then I paused, and thought, "Eh, but who cares? It's still a massive accomplishment to go from over 300 pounds to training for such a big race, Ironman or not. I can get onboard with that goal! Go on with your new bad self!"

But the funniest part (and what compelled me to write this even though I can't speak to anything else that happened on it tonight) was that I immediately got two emails, one from Danielle and one from Michelle - both like (paraphrased), "Oh my gosh - can you believe!" So much so that I literally laughed out loud as I read them - thanks guys! That totally made my night!

So yeah, good for him. And good for triathlon in general. I support anyone that puts triathlon on the map.

Well, maybe not JLo. She bugs me.

Okay - back to work!!!

Lazyman

We all know I love a good challenge, yeah?

So, in an effort to give my Cookie Monster ass a reason to get to the gym (and do something OTHER THAN feed my Spinning addiction), I (and Cheese) signed up for the Lazyman Triathlon at our YMCA.

Basically, you have to complete an Ironman distance over the course of a month.

It works off the honor system - You have a large index card hanging on the wall, and you just tick off the distances as you complete them. No one tracks you but your honesty and the Big Man upstairs.

I am sure it is of no surprise that, given my love of all things bike, my bike distance is almost complete after four days.

My swim and run, though? Not so much.

However, I am proud to say that I kissed and made up with the pool this morning after giving it the cold shoulder for about three months. And in return, it let me pound out a mile to add to my card.

The runs are just going to have to tick off a little more slowly.

Nonetheless, I intend on completing the total distance by Tuesday of next week, exactly one week after I started.

I should also mention that this is a no-competition race. Meaning, we all get tee-shirts, and no one actually wins.

But I think we all know, by this point, that the phrase “no competition” exists nowhere in Megan World.

There’s always a competitor, even if it’s the cruel little man that runs the gears in my head, taunting me with cake and telling me it's okay to sleep in.

Moreover, I do not understand the concept of a “no-win” race.

I mean, someone has to finish first, right? Hence, there's a winner.

So hell yeah, you know my ass is up in the gym, ticking off my miles on my card while eyeballing everyone else’s mileage – scheming double workouts and calculating finishes….

“Hmm, Mary Ann Giles is half-mile ahead of me on the swim, but she’s only done 25 bike miles.”

“Stacey Mathers has six miles of the run on me, but not a single swim.”

“Carol Smith is racking up those bike miles, AND she’s ahead on the runs! Grrrrr!”

You bet your sweet asses that I counted on my fingers the mileage I had left and when to do it - wondering if I could pull off a double swim today to get that .4 mile in, and finishing up with the last mile on Sunday.

Yeah, I AM that crazy lady that every gym has - the one that always seems to be there, day in and out - evern at the oddest of hours, like 1pm on a Wednesday.

That’s me.

Loud and proud.

I'll let you know when I claim the prize.