Substitution

I know, been a while. I've been riding the depresso train...meh, meh. I'm here.

Since I am always reading about nutrition, obsessing about calories and such, gluten free or not, dairy good or bad, coffee or no coffee, the list goes on. I've read that it would be good to know the PH of your body, it should be balanced, most of us are not, especially us carnivores, blah, blah, blah.

So I stopped by Target pharmacy the other day and was waited on by the pharmacist on duty since the tech was helping another customer.

Me-"Do you carry PH measuring urine sticks?"

Pharmacist-"Ummm...no, but we have some KETO sticks on that incap over there."

OK, while both kinds could be used by same individuals, they definitely measure different things. Hence the different names.Mind you if I wanted damn KETO sticks I would ask for those. NOT an even substitution lady. Clearly a pharmacist knows the difference.

Did you get your degree online? WTH? Let's say I came to refill my Lipitor prescription...what?! You'd offer me Insulin?

Sometimes I really wonder what is wrong with people...or is it me perhaps?! 

Chivalry Ain't Dead..But It Kind Of Is

Even though I am technically an extroverted introvert (meaning I can be around people and I am outspoken, but they really drain my batteries) and I prefer to spend my time with my dog, books, by my lonesome...you get the idea, life never stops giving me crap to make fun of and I LOVE IT! Don't stop life!
I can't take compliments. Pretty much it goes something like this...
"I like your hair that way, looks really nice!"
"Oh, you mean this "new do" of I-went-to gym-and-didn't-feel-like-washing-my-hair-so-I-added-more-hair-spray-to-it?!"
How about a simple "Thank You" and shut my mouth, end of story, nope not me.
Then again perhaps the following excerpt from my life may shed some light on why I will most likely never learn to accept a compliment. 
So the other night I am working at the bar and two semi-drunk guys come in. Of course they'd like to socialize as there's no one else there (almost closing time) and I can't leave...awesome. So they ask me what I do for fun...hmmm grocery shop and go to gym (why can't I just lie and say get wasted with my friends in turn avoiding being asked more dumb questions...not I. I mean really who gives a shit what I like to do, drunkasses...and honestly regardless of what I say the conversation will continue, cause they are humans and annoying ones at this point.)
So one of them goes "Yeah, you look like you go to the gym. You got some big thighs."
No, not big eyes...big thighs.
Too bad his IQ wasn't big. Granted my thighs are big enough to crush a baby elephant, they always have been, heavy squats at the gym made them even bigger, but what woman wants to hear the word big when being referred to. It's like men and the word small. Think about it.
Charmer. And thank you for pointing the obvious, idiot. No I didn't get his number...I am sure it was a single digit one ;).

Gym Love

By now I think I made it pretty clear that I am a gym rat. No, I am not one of those shredded women that competes in IFBB...I got chocolate issues ;), but I see gym as therapy.
Especially lately, I can spend hours there...yes, I am one of "those people". I gotta say I think I earned respect from my fellow gym goers, I am one of the very few women at the weight room and I am not gonna lie, I can hold my own. (Perhaps I can hold my own a little too much...)
Let me tell you, I do not get approached by anyone really, I am there to work, so I get my "business face" on. However, seems like little old men are not intimidated. There's one in particular that likes to chat (most of them just like to get out of the house and socialize) with me. About what? Well, anything and everything, his blood pressure, his wife, retirement and so on.
Well, today after our little conversation, he decided to give me a hug. I don't love hugs, I especially love hugs from strangers even less, and hugs from little old men that smell like that Cuban cigar cologne are probably top of the list of hugs I don't like (Besides the pervy, cop a feel kind of hugs. This wasn't that kind of hug, thank God.) Still, I smelled like his cologne for the rest of my workout and even after the shower...half a day later, I can still smell it. Wonderful.
However, this is still progress, at least it was a man making conversation with me...70yr old man, man nonetheless. (Last week I was hit on by the girl working out next to me...I do wish I swung that way, seems like I have a very "gay aura".)

Arkansas here I come...no not really

I just Googled Jonesboro, Arkansas...according to the Huffington Post it is one of the cheapest cities to live in.

Dear God, kill me now! Arkansas...really, the Bill Clinton state. I am sure it's nowhere near as bad as Ajo, Arizona or the God forsaken Blythe (Jesus what a shithole that is, you gotta stop there on your way to California to fuel up, unless you want to run out of gas, be abducted by some militia group never to be heard from again...most likely end up someone's sister wife or even worse, a practice target...nah scratch that being a wife would be worse), but really, let's get serious. Plus, what would I do there with my charming personality...work in the hardware store with a guy named Hank. Riiight!

I think I should get out of the house, as clearly, I have lost my marbles.

Why Did The Priest Cross The Road?

Today I almost hit a priest with my car. I am not religious and I am not sure of what denomination he was (didn't wear the sign above his head). However, I will go out on the limb and say that he was most likely a Catholic priest...had the black button down shirt, but was missing his clerical collar...so why am I sure he was Catholic? Because that would be just my luck...my grandmother was and she tried to get me accustomed to the spiritual world, but that didn't work out as planned. (Even at six I had too many questions...like the whole Holy Trinity was beyond my grasp at that age...still can't make sense out of it...logically speaking. Do I hear thunder?)

So here he jumps out from Chipotle between parked vehicles right onto the street in front of my car. I have done enough things in my life to be on the fastrack to hell, hitting a priest will not get me any brownie points (perhaps hell...now that I think of it). Considering he ate at Chipotle he most likely needed to get to the restroom, unless of course there was a religious emergency (I am sure they have those). Don't they teach clergy to look both ways before crossing...or was he just thinking "I got God on my side" and I'm gonna go for it.

My heart stopped for a tiny bit. Anyhow, he lived, I am not off to Hell (yet) and everyone lived happily ever after. (Thank Lord my brother replaced my brakes last week, otherwise there would be a church without a sermon this Sunday in Phoenix and I am way to pretty for prison :).)

To Facebook or Not?

I am not even sure why I chose this as my daily topic. Nevertheless, here it is.

Nowadays it standard practice when hiring to look at candidate's Facebook, LinkedIn or any other social media account. Don't think so?! Try applying for a job, really any job and see if they ask you for your account information.

In all honesty, the hiring firm doesn't even have to have your permission to check up on your stuff, you put it on the world wide web...guess what there's no privacy on the Internet (I know I am giving you invaluable information here...no one knew this until I pointed it out, right?!). Which brings me to my point...so firms disqualify the candidate based on a drunk picture or something else (funny repost, opinion...) posted on their account. Fabulous, but who are they to make these judgment calls number one. Granted they can do anything they want to, but let's think of this..."you never got drunk and inappropriate Mr. HR? And none of your opinions would offend someone?" (not sure about you, I had a a boss once and every time we had a company party she would get wasted to the point of someone had to hold her hair back while she'd projectile vomit in the parking lot, then come Monday and we'd have to pretend nothing happened and she'd have to reassert her power by being a major biatch for few weeks. However, this woman decided if I stayed there or not on a daily basis. Let's just say if I danced on a table at the company gathering in just my undergarments...I most likely wouldn't be returning to work on Monday). Secondly, what does a social media post have to do with the requirements of the position applied for...I am quite sure Bernie Madoff didn't post on his FB account how he was royally fucking everyone...yet, here we are.

So basically, you will reject a candidate based on their Facebook, Twitter and so on account, not their ability to get the job done. Yet someone that has chopped up bodies in their freezer will get that position supported by the fact they do not disclose as much about their life in the social media. (Always beware of the quiet ones! ;))

Practice seems at the very least hypocritical, not to mention unjust. Who made you the police of the social media lonely little HR catlady wearing Mr. Roger's sweater??? Buzzkill. I for example, always like to know what kind of crazy I am dealing with, then again that's just my opinion.

So lesson here is life isn't fair and neither is the HR department, so go lightly on your Facebook posts people or use an alias that would not be so easy to figure out. Now go on, delete all your drunk posts from this weekend and have yourself a fabulous Monday.
 

For the Love of God, Call!

It's been raining for days in Arizona...I personally LOVE it, but some others may not... Being that this week is a Suicide Awareness Week and if you are reading this and know someone that suffers from depression and or may be thinking of harming themselves know that there is help out there... nationwide and specifically for Arizona.

Also, call that person, do not text or email, CALL, speak to them, you never know how much good you may do.

Now, as for me until they invent homicide hotline, I am beyond help (or perhaps they have those, hmmm, not sure, I see research in my near future).

On a lighter note, seriously about the whole texting thing it is out of damn control, seriously. Does anyone pick up a phone anymore????

The other day I had plans with my, I thought good friend, for lunch, he initiated it. Well, the day of came and I sent a text confirming (I know after I just lectured about calling, but we had plans, this was just a confirmation text) and this MOFO, that is NEVER without his phone (besides being attached to it with an invisible umbilical cord, runs his business off of it) never replied. Until, 9pm that is...his excuse..."left my phone at buddy's house", STFU! Who leaves their phone anywhere these days?! We go to take a dump and bring our phone with, go to bed the damn thing is right by our head emitting those cancerous rays towards our useless brains...we'd leave our firstborn before we'd leave our God damn phone somewhere. I can tell you that is pathetic state of things for us humans these days.

So stop fucking around on the internet and go call someone just because you can, tell them something good, something bad, indiferent, who the hell cares...it'll brighten your and their day! Now go be social and really connect to those that matter to you.

Express Lane To Hell

Let me just warn you, this will be an angry post. Why? Cause it's my post, my blog and I said so. If you're not in the mood for it you can go somewhere where there's unicorns and rainbows.

In the light of recent events, I have not been mingling with people much...I really generally don't, Christ, I'm depressed, I bartend for living and last thing I want to do (well perhaps before getting a lobotomy or having to clean my house or being at one of the "Abortion is murder" rallies...you get the idea) is be around people more than I already am.

Also, I haven't been grocery shopping FOREVER! No seriously, I love that shit. When people ask me what I do for fun...I grocery shop and go to the gym (I know...STFU!). I have my little routine...I look through individual ads of the stores, make a list and get to it. Well, as I said it's been about 2 months that I haven't done it, so I figured I may as well since I will have to resort to eating my dog's food and he's not much of a sharer (that's a word apparently, no squiggly red line, who da thunk it?! I couldn't spell squiggly on the first try though, priceless).

So moving on...first store, they were out of 4 items I was there for...or it's like buy 5 cartons of eggs and get the sales price...WTF, who needs 5 cartons of eggs I ask you? Seriously. Anyhow I grabbed two things and BINGO 15 items or less open and only one customer ahead, YES!! Except that one motherfucking customer in front of me has about 115 items...some of them cases of soda..."Do I need to lift all of these?"...No bitch, he's telepathically going to scan them and they are not the same flavor so yes, work for that effen sugar you're about to consume. Few minutes of that bullshit...she was slower than molasses on a cold winter day and talking to her kid...now's the time to learn about what we do with artichokes...how about we learn to read signs perhaps...there's an idea.

Oh you got coupons? Fucking fabulous! And your own bags that are all crammed inside of the larger bag so the cashier can't even pull them out. Look at you saving the Earth....and God forbid you stretched those t-rex arms of yours and helped him bag your million items...are you fucking kidding me?!

There was a split second when I wanted to tell her little daughter "See honey, rules do not apply to your mommy, cause she's a freaking c..t...They don't have to follow rules". But the kid wouldn't understand the C word and there goes my insult and I'd probably be arrested for assault hence becoming a repeat offender...no closer to being checked out than I was a moment ago. Point?!

Everyday that someone isn't violently stabbed in the face with my car keys I consider a win. For real.

Then again wtf was my valid argument for being so angry with this moron...I was grocery shopping...how big of a fucking rush am I in really. Still, rules are rules and should apply to everyone (I know, I'm delusional).

Rant over.

Psychiatrists Vs. Chocolate

As you know I've been devastated with my best friend-dog passing. I miss her so much and I break down daily. My life blows. Again, I wish I died the moment she did.

(Don't worry, not killing myself, even though I am not religious, I do for some odd reason believe that when a person commits suicide they have to come back, do it all over again and it is worse...no fucking thank you, you can keep that lottery ticket!)

Yes, I have another dog-Ricky, sadly our bond nowhere near what I had with my best girl Lu. He's hungry, I am the source of food...sometimes he sits with me and watches TV or whatever, doesn't play, fetch, snuggle, any of it. Truth be told we do not get each other. He's skittish and I am bossy...I guess we do share a common dislike of most other human beings and a like for food. That seems like it though.

Since I figured I am distant and too heartbroken to pay attention to him I had this "brilliant" idea that I should foster a dog. Yes, he dislikes other dogs, and humans, and he's an old soul...why did putting him out of his comfort zone at age 10 seem like a good idea...I don't fucking know. I am hit in the head. Perhaps I needed a distraction.

Well, let me tell you, available to foster was a puppy...yes it's work, I've done it before and successfully may I add...she was adorable and actually really good for a little puppy oblivious to the threats of the world we live in. Ricky hated her (big surprise...estrogen levels were finally down in this household and I go and ruin everything), but that even wasn't that big of a deal...I was having major breakdowns. WTF? Not that I expected to be over Lu, not that I really ever expect to be over her...I just didn't think I was going to turn into a hysterical shit storm. So 3 days later, she's back at the rescue (way to fucking follow through on my commitment!).

Now to get to the point of this blog...my gyno a few weeks back suggested I may get a wee bit of help from pharmacopeia on handling my "mental state" (or lack thereof) and so my vet had the same recommendation today (yes, my dog's doctor, I know... I am straight jacket ready, fabulous).

So after a minor nervous breakdown on the phone to my friend (who is a dude and I was blabbering about how I hate life and it has no meaning, there's no point, I have no clue wtf happiness is...and so on and so forth... feel free to add the rest yourself), I figured well perhaps I should get some meds for a bit (even though I hate medication and feel like they ruin more things than help) and only because I already eat healthy, exercise 5-7 times a week, take vitamins, omega-3's, don't drink, don't smoke and don't do drugs (perhaps I should take up some of those activities). I also tried yoga, counseling with psychologists before (just pissed me off since I had more homework than I did in college and resolved nothing, just brought on anger issues and homicidal tendencies towards my Ben Stein like voice counselor).

Needless to say, I don't have insurance or a clue where to get this kind of assistance. Google is always an option of course.

My quest went soemthing like this:
Call Maricopa County Health Behavioral services (since one of their specialties is getting people on the right track for this kind of stuff) possible option leave a message or call Emergency Hot Line in case you have suicidal thoughts. No thank you, sure let me be responsible for busying the line while someone offs themselves, nice.  
Call one Dr. leave a mess...receive a call back from his front desk saying he doesn't accept new patients...no referral either. OK.
Call another...$350 for the initial consult then $150 to $200 thereafter for 15 min sessions...WTF? Is there a happy ending included?! No thank you.
Drive by the Behavioral wing of the local medical center...they are inpatient only and do not take outpatients...no referral, girl had no idea of possible Drs. in the area...funfuckingtastic.
Call a counselor my friend recommended, doesn't take new patients and can't prescribe drugs (what fucking good are you?).
Call my general practitioner, she's booked. Marvelous.

Finally, come home, cry a tad about my dead dog, how hard it is to be temporarily insane and find help, about how lame I am and couldn't handle fostering puppy, that I bartend for living and still haven't written a book (since I out all my decent material here, I know if this is decent imagine my lame stuff); hug my dog whie he tried to escape, drive to the store, buy frozen brownies and chocolate hazelnut gelato. Bake brownies (gluten free, I know I am a lunatic), serve with a pint of gelato, consume, watch TV...manic episode over for now. (Saved about $340 in the process, not counting meds.)

Ain't life grand?!

Stay tuned. More madness coming soon.

A Letter To My Luce Goosy

Dearest Luce,

the words are not enough to explain the pain I feel. Please forgive me for what I've done and the choices I made. I knew you would go on forever for me if I asked you to, regardless how painful that would have been for you...you would do it and never complain, but I saw you were tired. All I did was ask and ask and ask for you to fight...one more surgery, just one more... I had to put an end to all of that suffering and that meant letting you go. It is the hardest and the worst decision anyone can ever make and it will never feel like the right one either, but I knew I couldn't ask you to fight anymore, just so I would put off the inevitable. I wish I could have taken your place. Sadness isn't the right word my little Lu, my baby girl, my heart is shattered never to be whole again.

You were a good girl, the best girl in the world. The best friend anyone could ever have. I am forever grateful to have been in your presence. And what a presence you were, what soul, your infinite love for everyone and everything, to see your zest for life every day for the last 10 years made me want to live and be a better human. You were the reason I got out of bed some days, I know you know that.  You never gave up on me.

My lil monkey, thank you for everything that you have done for me. Thank you for kisses, slumbers, face exfoliations by tongue and by your corn chip smelling feet, thank you for loving me for who I was and wasn't, thank you for always waiting for me and giving me the reason to continue living, thank you for crowding my lap, being by my side when I was sick, thank you for butting me with your big block head in the morning and digging tirelessly under the covers to find me.

You were so smart, how you'd eat the meat but spit the pill out, and when you'd give me the silent treatment when you were mad, and your endless facial expressions. Still you were so silly, you'd eat naners with me, caught birds... you ate flies and spat them out until I would take it away from you, and boy were you nosy...you had to see and know everything. Also, your tennis ball, you loved that thing, you'd run after it till your paws bled if I let you. Who knew that the runt my brother gifted me was gonna steal my heart and run away with it. Oh Luce...

I love you with all of my heart lil girl and my life will never be the same without you here by my side. You were my everything. My best friend, my kid, my parent. I wish I live up to be the person you saw in me.

Luce Lu, no dog will ever come close to what you were to me. I am told that life goes on and we move on, but right now I don't see that. My world is empty without you. It was too sudden. I am lost and I don't know how to go on.

Your brother is here and he tries to cheer me up...but you know him, he's a guy...It was always us girls. Who will sit and watch TV and read with me now? Who will take care of me now? Who will cuddle with me when I am sad? How will ever go on without you my Luce?

I will never forget you and you will always be my angel. I hope you have a lot of tennis balls and birds to chase after and I know you love me and I am sorry for not been as good of a mom as you were kid. You are the love of my life and nothing will ever change that.

Go play now my lil baby. I hope we meet again.

Love you,
Danka.

Moderation...What Is That? No Really. Or Blog about Nothing :).

The older I get the more I am aware I have no moderation in anything. It's like someone forgot the shut off button with this model.
I love crossfit. I would say I do crossfit, not that I am a crossfitter. Those of you that do it know what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, I see the benefits and the whole community aspect, as well as health and hard work that goes in and mental component of it, but as much as I love it I know I am one of those people that gets easily bored with the routine (even if it is an ever changing one...it's still a routine)...this is why I don't run (mile after mile...same thing, it is mentally impossible for me). So currently, I am down with another injury...because I do not know when to stop...I even reduced my crossfit to 3 times a week (from 5-6), but I still do stuff on my own at least 3 more days...fabulous... because you know what I've been doing for now almost a week...nothing, exercise wise anyhow, due to an ass muscle spasm that is pulling on my back and hamstrings making sitting uncomfortable, let alone working out. I'm having issues getting out of bed...how old am I you ask?!...34. Yup, that is sad. What is even sadder, I know this and have done it before yet here we are...same thing again. Now, I probably wouldn't feel the need to exercise so hard and much if I only had any control/moderation as far as my eating habits go, but I don't.

This is the reason I quit drinking. It is not that I drank every day (or even every week), but when I did I rarely would stop before I was drunk. It was like every drink was a shot and it was some kind of a race (that was clearly only in my own head). Now my friends do not think it was a big deal, but I think if something you're doing as fun and for pleasure lands you in jail and you have to pay stiff fines (as opposed to going on a nice vacation with your hard earned money) it is a fucking problem. Or so I quit before it becomes one. And how's the sober life, you ask?! Well I did shed a few drinking friends...which is fine. However, if you think that quitting drinking, smoking or whatever else you're doing will help you save money...you're wrong. You just find something else to replace it with. I did. Exercise. And you're like how's that bad?! I know, there's worse things, however if you still treat it like you did your previous obsession (for me that means no moderation, it is not swell, I can tell you that).

I notice this no moderation thing is a common theme in my life... I do it in relationships (I'm in love third day...spoke to the guy twice, yet I am all in my head and googly eyed... planning our future), I do it with friendships (hang out, love a person than get bored), work, research (I will read every God damn article on a set of new windows I plan on having installed, birth control and so on)...absolutely everything. No crap I burn out fast. And you're like who cares, how's this blog worthy?! Well, I think now that I know about it I can address it. Even so... I feel every blog should be entertaining and funny...well they won't be. Some days there's funny and entertaining stuff to write about and other days there isn't.

Side note...the other day I am talking with one of my gym clients and I told her I am going to Kid Rock concert (yay! also it's been years I've gone to a concert) and she had no idea who he was. She's 23...I'm like "are you fucking kidding me?"...nope dead serious. (I didn't sing because even if I did she wouldn't know who he was, actually especially then she would be confused..did I mention I am not a singer?!). But c'mon really, who has never heard of Kid Rock...we are not friends anymore and I can no longer have you as a client, because you are seriously unwell. Am I that behind times and people actually have no idea who anyone is...Kid Rock, Bob Marley, Velvet Underground...wtf is this world coming to?!

Also, as you can see ADD has no moderation. It strikes me every day and it can be at any given moment and my writing just gets sidetracked. I do appreciate those of you that can follow my "crazy train" of thought (that was an Ozzy reference...hopefully some of you caught that :)).

Apparently Brain Is Not A Requirement To Pass the Bar Exam

In my class the other day, three students , two guys and a girl, gathered around teacher's desk copying notes they missed.
Two guys speaking a foreign language the entire time while writing stuff down. Once they were done, the white girl goes "Gracias!"...men-clearly Indian (as in from India) just blankly looked at her...saddest part-she's a corporate attorney. Excellent...I have so much more faith in our legal system now ;). Why again didn't I go to law school again?! This would be my competition...Lord!

Estrogen you vile bitch!

For years I battled with PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome; that's when your ovaries decide to sprout little growths...hurts like a mother), then I discovered progesterone, ahhhh the sweet relief. Not only did I not grow anything, but I didn't even get that time of the month (another bonus, when my boyfriends asked if it was that "time of the month", nope I am just my pleasant self mofo). It was like I was a man, but with sense of direction and less hair (for the most part and thanks to lasers). See for some women progesterone is not an option, they get depressed, gain weight and so on, for me...I don't know, I was my fattest and skinniest on it, sadest and happiest...basically I think it had nothing to do with the drug itself.

Then few years back I had this grand idea to try and go without...without any hormonal medication. You know I wanted to be all "natural" and "unmedicated" (yeah fine that's not a word and I don't give a shit, you know what I mean). While that went surprisingly well for about year and a half, thanks to my cleaned up diet (no processed/fried food), no alcohol and daily exercise regimen, things came to an abrupt halt this January. For two weeks each month, it seemed like I had 3 distinct feelings going on simultaneously...rage, hunger and unreasonable urge to cry at any given time (apparently some females are estrogen sensitive, ME, even if it's the estrogen their own body made, who da thunk it, right?!!). Logically, I knew there was nothing to be angry about, I had just eaten and nothing sad/bad have happened yet it felt like an out of body experience and I wanted to punch my fucking self in the throat.

After those two weeks where I'd inevitably gain 10 lbs, I'd spend next 2 trying to lose it and once I got back the normal, the vicious cycle would repeat. FML to say the least.

I turned to friends, family and my Dr. and answer seemed to be the same..."welcome to your 30's". WTF?! I am going to be a menopausal crazy lady, before due time, are you fucking kidding me?! Oh some even suggested Lexapro, Paxil (or whatever the hell)...the ones that take it of course...I don't know, call me nuts, but I will take hormones before I will take mood altering drugs (I've seen my friends on meds...yeah awesome zombie like, bitchiness only postponed until the meds wear off. I am ok with being a bitch, I am not ok with being a crying emotional mess over nothing). Also hormones are much cheaper (especially if you have no insurance) and you may die of clogged arteries causing a heart attack, but at least they won't lead you to suicide (like antidepressants...how do you cure depression, you kill yourself apparently). I don't think so, not if I can help it.

So about a month ago I threw all the caution to the wind (I just really said fuck being natural if I am a crazy bitch, plus I could not afford my eating habits any longer) and I got back on hormones. Ahhh, sweet sweet nectar of progesterone. You know I am still a bitch, just now I don't cry over brownies or wanna punch kids and in my book I'm winning. Estrogen-go fuck yourself!

What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up? (Bukowski wisdom)

"Find what you love and let it kill you!" 

                                     Charles Bukowski

Well, thank you Mr. Bukowski! And it would be grand if I can make a comment here "clearly he found alcohol", but that's not what killed him, leukemia did (damn it, punch line killed...see you learned something you didn't know before reading my blog and we are still on 1st paragraph. You're welcome! Now you can let your hopes down a bit).

Regardless, he was abso-fuckin-lutely right. That is the secret to fulfilling and complete life. It is what we all want and dream of, it is our ultimate purpose. Except, WTF do you do when you have no idea "what do you want to be when you grow up?"?! 

I want to know I lived a life of purpose and to the fullest is my response (now how, I am not there yet). 

People ask me "what are your passions? what do you love to do?"...hmmm. Well, I love to eat out (however, last time I checked that depletes not so much generates income), I love to shop (again, same issue), I love to read (considering I have zero experience in editorial work I am going to go out on the limb and say no one will pay ME to read), I love exercising (then again do I love it or do I just use it as punishment for eating everything under the sun...I actually do love lifting weights, one time that my brain shuts the fuck up and I am "in the moment"), I looooove my dogs (then again they don't seem too eager to go and make a living, so I am thinking that isn't it either)...do you see my conundrum?! 

Also, I noticed that I am one of those "TRY" people, I'll try a little of this, a little of that (restaurant manager, personal trainer, mortgage broker, paralegal, bartender), never really sticking to anything and I am not even sure, if I don't stick to it cause I discover I do not like it, or because I am lazy, or because I am mortified of failure and if I don't give it 100% (btw there's not such thing as 110%, mathematically impossible people, so tell your boss to eff off) I never really tried, therefore I cannot fail (fabulous reasoning). (Does your brain hurt yet? Mine does.)

Today was no different...Since my "little cult class" (pretty sure I wrote about Landmark on my blog before), life has been worse than before. Now, I see all the self sabotaging I do, along with extremely unproductive self deprecation, excuses, stores I live in to and yet here I am, not an inch forward (as a matter of fact I think I moved backwards, at times like these I wish I still drank and could use that as an excuse for hibernating).  So, I set out this morning to go sign up for real estate school, everyone in AZ has a license, cooks, teachers, cashiers...and I figured if they can do it (half assed), well so can I (half assed as well, of course, most likely). A friend asked me if that's what I am passionate about...I am sorry who the hell is passionate about real estate, that's like being passionate about plumbing. Don't get me wrong I see the rewards, helping people, flexible schedule, independence, but passion... I am not sure, then again wtf do I know?! Perhaps I am just not a really passionate individual. 

Anyhow, didn't go through with it as I spoke to a friend and she asked me to hold off, while "she shares some other possibilities with me"(-Landmark language)...great! Then again, my dream waited this long, and since I have no idea what that is...what's another day...or five.

Bottom line, if you know what it is that makes you feel alive GO DO IT YOU LUCKY SOB! Hold onto it and do not let go and listen to no one when they "reason" with you, that's their reasoning not yours. I read somewhere that Walt Disney was turned down (failed) some first 80 times...I saw the thing on Facebook that read "If people tell you your dreams are silly, just remember there's a millionaire somewhere that invented a pool noodle" (no shit, I never even used one of those stupid things). Follow your passion, be alive, go after it, even if it doesn't work out, your life will have been worth living...and from what I see if you keep at it it will work out.

Now for the rest of you (like myself)...stick it out, keep plugging away, keep looking, discovering, searching... you can follow my journey as well (even if it is just in my head at times :)) and eventually we will figure it out! That's a threat and a promise!

"Be not afraid of moving slowly. Be afraid of standing still."

                                                                             Chinese Proverb

 

Dry Heat...Omg Stfu!

Temperature in Phoenix is supposed to be 118 today and 120 tomorrow. We are all gonna die people! Period.

I love when you talk to people that come to visit for a week in March (when it's 80 outside) and then they offer the good ol' "Oh, but it's a dry heat.".

I don't give a crap what kind of heat it is, 120 is ungodly! Secondly, come back in July and say that asshole! Yeah, not even mosquitoes are dumb enough to live here (do they even have brains? clearly they are higher functioning than humans or at least have better survival instincts). My oven emits dry heat as well, yet I never feel compelled to stick my noggin in it.

What does that even mean-dry heat!? My lungs have second degree burns all summer long?! Let's not forget the pool will be that comfortable fresh-urine temperature, mmmm so refreshing!

God hates AZ! I am certain. And which moron had a bright idea to inhabit the damn desert? And why am I so demented as to stay here? I think my brain evaporated throughout all the years I lived here, making me no longer capable of rational decisions. Waaaaaaaa!

Yet, we still have homeless! You know if you're homeless in AZ, there's something seriously wrong with you. There's no medication that will help your ill. California is a hitchhike away people!!!! 80's, beach, more sunshine (why am I still here?).

(On the bright side, my a/c went out in May, so I am covered through this summer :).)

Sensodyne Sucks!...Miracle Whip Too

This morning I noticed, I am out of toothpaste. No problem, I got travel size Sensodyne I got from my dentist last time I was there. Well, I brushed my teeth with it...I can assure you that baking soda tastes better (I've done that before, so I actually know). I mean wtf? You know why your teeth aren't sensitive? Cause they are not clean either. That layer of filth covering them acts as preventative layer from any sensitivity you may have to cold, hot, sweet, whatever. Freaking gross.

I am all about trying out new things, but when it comes to toothpaste give me my Colgate with all the flouride and minty artificial taste my body can handle.

***

Also, wtf is up with Miracle Whip? I stated before that I am from former Yugoslavia, where we have and love mayo. Yes, we eat mayo sandwiches....precisely, just bread and mayo and it is delicious (until I discovered my allergy to eggs, besides the point).

So when we moved to the USA, I set out on a little grocery shopping adventure. I spoke English...British English. See you put a word like miracle on the can and pardon me but I expect something fabulous...followed by the word whip...ummmm whip cream is the first thing that comes to mind. Yeah, do you see the logic behind my reasoning and where this train wreck is headed?!

Let me tell you, there is absolutely nothing miraculous about the vile substance contained in the jar of Miracle Whip. It's sour, like it's gone bad, with some sweet undertones, just plain disturbing. As for the whip part of it...I think they just wanted to fuck with us. I imagine that mod podge is more palatable. Who was the joker that invented that crap? And who buys it? Wtf is it anyhow? Sick.

Things I learned in San Francisco

So I recently took a trip to San Francisco. I have never been and since I was in a dire need to get the f... away from my life, I decided SF would be a swell choice. It's on the water and temperatures are in the 60's. Being that AZ is scorching hot this time of year, that's all I needed to make my decision.

First of let me tell you, you can tell a city by its homeless. I'll elaborate. Homeless in NYC have an agenda, they approach you with a freaking business deal "Hey lady, do you have a minute? Let me tell you..." Tell me what?! How to invest my money ensuring sufficient retirement funds? What?! You're gonna let me know the secret to getting rid of cellulite??? How to find a dream job? Eternal youth?  I mean these folks have an agenda and they are selling it.

Now Chicago....completely different. In your face, angry (must be the cold), zero regard for authority... they will chase you down for a buck. (No seriously, one time guy followed me for three blocks and then I decided to start running. I won.) They intimidate their prey and reap the benefits. Most times they even laugh at fear in the eyes of their victims.

San Francisco, well these folk are laid back, some of them even asleep by their money receptacle (wouldn't it be nice to fall asleep and wake up to money in your jar?). They are very casual in scoping out the potential and approaching only when certain of payoff. They do not drive a hard bargain. Weather is nice, most have a cup of coffee in front of them, some even use humor to lure donations like a guy at Fisherman's Wharf with a sign that read "Getting divorced, need money for a hitman."

Based on just homeless I will take Frisco over Chicago or New York any day. 

While I was there I was searching for a perfect meal (food is a driving force in my life. I know isn't it in everybody's...yeah, but I think of lunch before I even finished breakfast and most people I know do not do that. it is safe to say that I think of food 25 hours a day :).), I came up on this cool place called Fly in Hob Hill. On the menu they had a drink called Eastern European, that consisted of grass fed bison infused vodka and apple juice... Clearly, an Eastern European didn't come up with this. There are a few major flaws. First off who monitors the bison and makes sure they only consume grass and no bushes or tree particles. Also, bison isn't the first animal to come to mind when thinking of Eastern Europe...wild boar is more like it. Lastly, mix vodka with apple juice, WTH?! Generally, vodka is consumed before it's even cool, let alone are we gonna water it down with some damn juice. Seriously.

Final lesson from my trip... elderly wheelchair bound Asians have no fear (OK, who out there will label me racist...I am merely reporting what happened, so you can get your panties out of a bunch). While waiting at the crosswalk for my sign to turn, I was shoved aside by a gentlemen in a motorized wheelchair. First off, I wasn't even in his way...we weren't going the same direction. Secondly, he could've said "excuse me" and not just shove me into the oncoming traffic. Lastly, let's think about this situation this old man...you're already in the wheelchair, do you have a death wish...I can help put you out of your misery...SOB?! Old people ain't skerd, right?!

Vin Diesel and Dwayne Johnson The Rock Sandwich....mmmmm hell yes!

My supportive family...
Me texting my sister: "You know there's a new Vin Diesel/Rock movie out? I wanna go see it."
Her: "Yeah...Fast and Furious?! You know it'll be dumb, just bunch of cars and them running around."
Me: "I know, but who cares? It's The Rock and Vin Diesel!!!"
My Sister: "Ummm....you know Vin is gay and Rock is questionable they say."
Me: "I don't care! I'd love to be a pickle in that sandwich."
Her: "You can't be a pickle, they already have their own pickles...WTF?!"
Me: "I'm sorry dream killer...I wasn't aware you work for the "Squish a Wish Foundation"!"
Her: "You need to get your head checked!"

United Airlines Will Be The Slow Death of Me/Not a Fan of Kids

As I sit on the United plane, that was supposed to take off 2 hours ago, waiting for the mechanics to check the engine issues we have, after already being delayed twice due to weather...waaaa, three rows behind me there's a 2 yr old screaming bloody murded. While I cannot completely blame him,  cause at this point I feel like screaming too (beats the alternative of stabbing folk), I remember the following Facebook post:"You know what's more joyful than a sound of child's laughter?! Fucking silence of not having any children."
Omg, how this rings true right now...or are my ears just ringing from incessant ear piercing noise behind me...bedsides the point. 
This trip was supposed to be a vacation,  liberation from daily duties,  family. A great relaxing, solo adventure.  If it persists the way it's going so far, I can see myself on Channel 5 Breaking News and then doing 25 to life for murder. Arrrrgh!
Then again I can look at that as retirement planning...I think :).

Panhandling...Used Car Sales of the 21st Century

So the other day I am in front of Starbucks, meeting a friend, when a young approaches me, doesn't really look homeless, but more bored, into recreational drugs (not quite heroin haggard appearance, more of "I like to take extasy or trip on acid"-is that the same, I am drug ignorant; look) and looking for someone to chat with.
He says: "Soccer?"
Me: "I'm sorry what?"
Him: "Oh you just have such great leg muscle definition." Smile.
Me dumbfounded...WTH?! See my grandmother always thought me "if you can't say anything nice, do not say anything at all", but what am I supposed to say "I love your dilated pupils" or "I love how unfocused your gaze is...and the jitters...rad dude"...I mean seriously.
I just thanked him and went inside.

Same parking lot, an hour later...that's what happens when you work in the ghetto/drug infested area of Phoenix, another guy approaches, mid 30's, as drunk as Anthony Bourdain on his trip to Greece and he starts: "mmmm...fend...u...bit...doooo uuuu haff 45 cnts I mmmm haff?". Well you may not be offending me, but the alcoholic aroma about your body is burning my eyelashes and my hair off, and that ain't no easy task as I am one hairy beast. (May I just note it is 11 am ladies and gentlemen and 108 degrees outside.) Also kudos to you, my alcoholic cohabitant of mother Earth, on figuring out precisely what amount you're short of buying a 40 to continue your "spiritual" existence on this planet.
Me: "No thank you I am good."...I know that was not the answer to his question...do you think he was boggled by that, believe me he had bigger issues...like crossing the parking lot, breathing...

Finally, the third one, as I made my way to the store across the street, a young homeless guy, high as a kite, would've definitely benefited from some Visine. He pitches me his line: "Pardon me, would you happen to have any change?"
I am sorry, when the fuck did the panhandlers get so erudite..."Pardon me, change comes from within my friend, and you're welcome!" I replied and carried on.

Excuse me, I am not quite sure I could support a weed habit...hell, I can't even support my chocolate/coffee habit. What's next, you offer to invest my "spare" change for me...you got a business idea?! (Oh and don't worry I didn't come up with that clever response myself, I stole it from my friend Dan. He doesn't mind and I love it. I do however say "yes I have change, but it's not spare"...I'm sure, by now, others have adopted that saying...note to self, need to patent these things...or whatever it is you'd do with witty expressions :)). 

Bottom line, these people seem to be a lot more business savvy than I would ever be if I was panhandling. Believe you me, they have a plethora of options for your excuses of why you can't part with your riches, they start of high and eventually end up where you both can live with your decision...just like car shopping, numbers game...they will even wait for you to go use the ATM (oh yeah).

At times like these, me looking intimidating (what I am known for :)) is helpful...now I'd like to find out what benefit does a freakishly long torso have when you are not an Olympic Swimmer.

Born Again....Virgin

So you know how I quit drinking a while back?! I am not sure if I mentioned it, but I am way too lazy to read through my nineteen blogs to check. Anyhow...it's been about 2-3 years...no I am not one of those 2 years, 8 months, 16 days, 13 hours, 7 minutes and 53 seconds people. I just quit drinking...why? Well it was either driving or drinking...and I had to get to work to support my shopping habits, so naturally drinking had to go.

But you know what else I quit, when I quit drinking?! SEX...I quit having sex! Why?! Well, I could no longer drink my suitors interesting to sit through the date and make it to the good part. Dates! Hell, I can't even get a date anymore....that may have something to do with me being socially awkward and not knowing the rules of "the game".

My friends believe that I was born without the "flirt part" of my brain, since according to them I can never tell when someone is hitting on me. Following text interaction is proof apparently.

Me to my good guy friend: "A guy at the gym just told me he likes my hair...was he hitting on me?"

My friend: "You're a dork...yes! Guys don't notice hair."

Me: "Well, I am sorry but my hair looks awesome thanks to my fabulous hair dresser. Plus, I thought for a second perhaps he was gay."

My friend: "You are an idiot...and you'll be single forever. Way to blow it."

Be that as it may, and perhaps I am a bit slow when it comes to those things, but what kind of fucking opener was that??? No really, what was I supposed to say..."Oh you like my hair...great here's my phone number...let's do it." Men! 

Are you missing chromosomes and David Sedaris does what???

OK so by now it is clear that I am judgmental bitch, probably will burn in hell for half the shit I spew out let alone all the crap I censor/filter (oh yes I filter...you don't even know how much). On second thought, if you ever knew my upbringing and that I bartend for a living (let's be real personal training doesn't pay for any of my addictions :)) you'd understand I am in hell already and when I die they better be ready with something new if they want to challenge me.

If you need further proof that I am  a "unique" thinker...there was a guy with only one arm the other day at my work...thoughts I had immediately were "can you say he's unarmed?...he would never bother me with hugs.." and so on. I know that "normal" people refrain from these thoughts or are on medication that will help them reel this shit in...me, I let it run wild. And now you are wondering if I was a product of Hitler's genetic engineering experiments...not sure he ever reached my level. Don't misunderstand me, I know I should not be thinking the things I do or at least try to repress them like normal humans do...but remember this model was built without a filter.

Anyhow, on with this blog... Yesterday I decided to go shopping (cause I need more shit in my house) and one of the stops was a beauty supply store (who wouldn't want to be more beautiful?). In order to get my discount they have a computer directory...so this transaction went something like this.

Girl: "Can I have your last name please?"
Me: "Bab..."
Girl: "Vad.."
Me: "No, it's Bab... both B as in BOY"
Girl: "Bev..."
Me: "Um...B-A-B...boy"
Girl: "B-I-V"
WTF???? I am thinking and trying not to lose my shit..
Me: "No...it is B as in boy, A like Adam, B as a boy."
Girl types B-a-d..
Me: "You typed B-a-d...it's B-a-b"
Girl:"B-e-d (typing)? I can't find it, sorry. Can we try by the phone number?"
Riiiiight!...you can't figure out 5 letters and you will get 7 numbers in the correct sequence...I'd like to opt out of this shit show.
Me: "Don't worry about it, I am not sure what number I have it under...I don't need the points, it's fine. Thank you tho." 

Now, I had a certificate that she, THANK GOD, called another associate for and my grand total came to $4.36. So I gave her 4 single dollar bills, a quarter, a dime and a penny (YES! The exact change.).

Low and fuckin behold she stood there, money in hand, looking at the dollar bills and 3 coins all confused like I tried to explain binary code to her. (Yes, I have heard of dyslexia and I actually have a mild case of it...however, I am not certain how you go through life, graduate high school-my assumption, without ever learning to read/spell or add...how do you balance your own checkbook? how do you text? should you be behind the ever loving register during the Sunday rush when you are not able to perform basic tasks of that job???)

Girl: "Ummmm...this is short..." puts dollar bills on the counter and touches them slowly one by one while counting (there's only 4 of them)...repeats 3 times. Then she looks at the coins in her hand, hands me back the dime and says "this won't work...do you have some nickles, pennies...whatever may work better for you?"

Me: "No...that's the exact change."
Girl: "Are you sure?" 

The only thing I am sure of at this point is my decision to never have kids, matter of fact I refuse to shed my ovaries in the world where this level of stupidity, incompetence, untreated learning disability, ...whatever you want to call it, is acceptable. I am also becoming increasingly sure that I may just go stab happy if this continues much longer (believe you me, we are waaaay past testing my patience' limits).

Me: "Yes...that's 25c and 10c is 35, plus a penny is 36."
Girl: "Hmmm, I don't think so."

Are you fucking kidding me? Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Please come out before I am arrested for assaulting the manager on duty for making me put up with this, while 4 other employees are standing around within an earshot, wasting time.

Me: "UMMM...YES THAT IS 4 DOLLARS AND 36 CENTS EXACTLY!"
Girl: "Hm...I don't know....ok, I guess."

I put the purchase in my purse, even thank/wished her a good day and left.

You're thinking "bitch, you should've left long time ago"...and I hear you, but I couldn't believe my eyes and ears or that it would go on for as long as it did. I've met thousands of people...never.anything.like.that. I couldn't help thinking "God, I hope you're not left to your own vices...hopefully there's a nice husband for you out there somewhere that will take care of you." Also, "if you can have a job as a cashier...I guess I could shoot for the Olympic Figure Skater (zero coordination and balance going on here). Holy Shit!"

On a brighter note, I read this article about David Sedaris today http://www.fastcocreate.com/1682768/say-it-out-loud-how-david-sedaris-makes-his-writing-better...apparently he reads his unfinished material to audiences across country and edits as he goes, creating his masterpieces in the process. Sounds like a fabulous idea, I always thought "if I can read my comedy material it would be a lot easier" you know like half read and half perform. I always improvise and go off the script anyhow, yet it would be nice to have a sort of an outline there not worrying about my brain farts kicking in while I am doing it. 

This makes perfect sense...except I am NOT David Sedaris and WHO THE FUCK wants me to read my crap to them?! (If you figure out an answer to this question, feel free to contact me.)

There's Meth For That

So yesterday I set out to do four things...grocery shopping, eat pho (I LOVE PHO!!!), make it to the gym and at some point Skype with a closest thing (person) to a boyfriend I had in years...even though he's 1700 miles away (more on that some other time...I know I got issues and I think I may be coming to terms with them...ahhhh). Low and behold I managed all 4. YAY me! If you know me you know that I have great intentions and sell myself on many different ideas and than get uninterested and lose the wind under my wings (or however that saying goes).

Anyhow...woke up and immediately lost 2 hours of my life...wasn't on Facebook or blogging or watching TV. I know I managed to eat a bowl of protein oatmeal...other than that, I have no clue wtf I did. Decided I should go grocery shopping before I lose a whole day.

Put my jeans on, rip them in the process...you know right by the zipper like a true fatass. Seriously need to get my eating under control...wtf?!

Pretty fucking much!

Oh well, my jeans were on (yes the ripped ones...I am going to the grocery store for fuck sake not to meet Obama) and I was on my way to be productive. 

Made it to the store and at the time, I was the only one checking out (ahhhh the beauty of Sunday mornings when the rest of humanity is being "good" and attending church services...we should have Sunday church throughout the week...few times at least..hmmm). Behind the register was a woman in her 30's, who clearly judging by her wild eyes and nervous twitching was no stranger to meth (or crack or both...are they different?...whatever).

Now, let me assure you, I believe in the second chances in most instances (preferably I don't have to be involved). However, I am not quite sold on the idea of recovering drug addicts working with public...I know you think I am a judgy bitch...and you're right...but they seems so twitchy and I can't help but feel that one wrong word or look will set them off and they'll go stab happy and somehow I see myself doing time for killing a single mother of 3 with my bare hands.

Back to my cashier...so I am thinking to myself  "Stop being a big fat cunt...I'm sure she's a nice lady...you don't know where she's been and what she's going through...STOP FUCKING JUDGING!".

So she's making a small chat like "How's your day? What are you up to this Sunday?" I'm all like "Good so far...meh...I have a day off so I should be productive (now that's some funny shit, especially if you know me)" then she replies (wild bulging eyes...you know that "meth look"...surprised with a slight (or not so slight) hint of deranged..head cocked) "I was off yesterday...I CLEANED" (long pause, giving my mind plenty of to wander)...yes you know it...my thoughts went directly to "of course you cleaned...your tile grout with the toothbrush probably...that house is so clean you scrubbed the paint off the walls, floor and your bathroom fixtures"...fuck me...I am a terrible person.

Then I thought...well, perhaps if I did some meth my house may be spic and span too (I'll lower my expectations to just presentable...I've never done meth...but meth can't begin to fathom my procrastination capabilities...also, can you do meth just once every two weeks for cleaning purposes?!)...hell, I would probably never have a problem of ripping my pants either, if I was a meth-head...meth may be a cure-all drug in my case...hmmmm. Definitely something to consider :).

The Joys of Spring Training

At this point, if you read any of my previous blogs you should know that my "REAL" job...the job that pays the bills and allows me to buy every Groupon known to man on laser hair removal (what can I say, I am a hairy broad...armpits, minds out of the gutter people) and new workout (yoga/bootcamps/TRX), as well as dine in every newly opened gem of a restaurant in Phoenix, is none other but bartending. Oh yes, I am a people person...no not really ;).

I work in Old Town Scottsdale. For those of you not familiar with the area, besides being a "cayote" or selling drugs, that is where the money is in AZ. Now, I am not money driven, yet I need it to live, so I sacrifice two days a week of my life doing "adult babysitting" as I'd like to call it.

Now add to the usual madness of twenty to forty something drunken future (or past) of America, the full force of Spring Training in March...which pretty much sums it up to all the middle aged, married men without the supervision of their ever-so-lucky wives gallivanting about and drinking like they are 18, yet not having the same tolerance or body.

And believe you me, I am not the one to judge...if anyone has ever been drunk out of their gourd, it is this bitch, however some things are completely unfathomable. For example, last night a good looking, not intoxicated...repeat...not intoxicated married man, dropped his pants down for all the world to see.in the bar. full.of.people. WTF?! I ask you. How is that acceptable behavior? It fucking is not! I assure you...no one wants to see your ass dude, no one.

Also, bumping each others beer bottles so it foams is sooooo passe. Seriously, what are you 12? Drink much? In public...with people...seriously.

Here's another thought if you decide to do cocaine for the first time in your life...STAY AT HOME...no, in my experience it is NOT an amateur drug. You may think you got it handled, but you don't, the jitters, jumpiness, the constant tooth rubbing with your finger, cottonmouth...for the love of God, stay at home (hotel room, whatever) and preserve a little bit of the dignity you have left.

And ladies when you are taking mood altering drugs (Xanax, Ativan, Lexapro, Trazodone... just to name a few) it is not wise to chase them down with several Cherry Bombs. Again, you may think you're OK...honestly you're a fucking hot mess minus the hot. You get all emotional, your mascara running down your cheeks, dress and hair a mess, losing shoes and purses at every turn, inserting the lip gloss wand into your mouth while attempting to reapply it and then questioning the bartenders decision to cut you off...I mean COME ON! Just go home, someone's home...and don't argue, cry uncontrollably and throw shit around, it does very little in making your case.

Besides, "something fun" is not a name of any shot and believe me the last thing you want is for me to "surprise" you with a drink...you'll get a Jeger/tonic...SURPRISE :-).

Rich dudes...much obliged you came to visit...please stop pointing out how rich you are, kills the mystery for one and it may come over duchy when you say "I can solve all of your problems" while wearing your wedding ring...for one the problems I have you're not licensed to help me with... secondly, "How's the Missus"???

So now some of you are thinking, "well why do it if you hate your job???"...I don't hate my job, I have a strong dislike for idiots and second I am sure you love everything about your job ;). Third once I am a famous writer I can drop that gig and focus on making the world a funnier place one book at the time.

Please, let's make this a stab-free Spring Training...I am to pretty for prison :).

I got issues...in case you didn't know

Once again I have not been posting...this blog will take off like nobody's business with all of my hard work...right?!

Anyhow, since the last time I posted, a few things transpired...I had a one night stand (of sorts) unfortunately the guy had personality and a brain and he lives 2,000 miles away, so clearly I decided I was going to like him. And since this took place last Saturday, we (I) have gone a full circle on the manic-depressive mental train...so we talked and laughed and I liked him and then I over-shared, then he didn't reply in a timely manner (timely in my world)...then replied and was sweet and I decided I will not make contact first again and since it's been whole 24 hrs that we had contact, I killed him off and this "relationship" is over...over and done, I tell you.

Also, since I have a fully blown shoulder impingement I finally decided I will take some time off crossfit and will do some gentle yoga, acupuncture and stretching. Let's get something straight 

CROSSFIT=THERAPY 

so if you thought I was nuttier than squirrel shit before...welcome to a whole new dimension of crazy :-).

Today, I went to yoga nidra...it's really just a long (10:45am-12:00pm), guided meditation. Woke up, got ready, open mind and yoga studio bound. Got there with plenty of time to spare, met the instructor (he was missing a leg...I could not help wondering what yoga other than meditation he could teach...I know what you're thinking- You're a bitch!... but it would be very difficult to balance and I am sorry, but this is where my brain went). He helped me set up my "nest" (fold blankets for the utmost comfort while meditating...there is a lot of emphasis on the blanket folding technique in this particular studio...perhaps they should do a workshop on that), anyhow, he mentioned being a type A and a bit OCD while organizing my "meditation area", then left me to feel it out and get comfortable.
He left the room and did not re-enter till 11:03am...did I mention that class was 10:45am-noon??? So now I have anger issues that I didn't when I first arrived... and while he's going through his "breath in and out...feel weightless...let go...just be...let go of the thoughts and constraints...blah, blah, blah" all I can think of was "Get a FUCKING watch...no seriously, OCD and type A's do not pull this crap...this is how you lost your leg, isn't it...you were late for class one too many times"-my brain went on and on and on.

I know what you're thinking "what's the big deal???" and honestly I have no idea...he was a tad late or it was a misprint in the brochure as far as class time (I was trying the whole benefit of the doubt thing), big deal either way...yet I spent a better portion of the class not being able to let go of my rage towards the man that I just met and was nothing but nice to me. And while he was all like "...imagine yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the still dark water..." I was thinking of holding his head under the water for being late to class and then I was grateful that I didn't pay full price for this (Thank you Groupon!!!) as I would be livid (cause I wasn't already)... Does this matter that much in the grand scheme of things you wonder, of course not! Yet for some reason my brain decided to get stuck on that loop and there was nothing I could do to help it.

An hour later, my back hurting, having to go pee and definitely no calmer than I arrived it was over...who leaves relaxing meditation class pissed off and with panties in a bunch?! I DO! Meditation...not so much...perhaps I should try medication...meh.

Kno' Thyself

So I have been gone a little while...does anyone even read this blog...who cares, it's my artistic outlet...well, outlet nonetheless... and I do care if people read, but as much as I promoted it (I didn't, my friends have no clue) less than 100 people is quite the audience.

Anyhow...not much in the form of drama has been happening and who wants to read another happy, healthy, we are all God's children blog yada, yada, yada...until today that is...

Woke up, second day of "I'm writing down everything food-wise that crosses my lips as I am turning into a sow", ready to tackle the world. (Well, not really, got home at 3am after work and had 4 hours of sleep and woke for the second time, first time to feed the dogs this time to poop.) Morning ritual underway and "HOLY MOTHER OF GOD WTF IS THAT IN THE TOILET BOWL???" (this will be one of those blogs where I over share, consider yourself warned, you can stop reading now...or not). Blood, fresh red blood in sheet like formations...wth???

My wheels start spinning..."too early for my period...it's been only two weeks...did I overdose on Ibuprofen? I've been sick last few days and have been self-medicating...GOOD GOD I HAVE AN INTERNAL STOMACH BLEED!!!...breathe....breathe...OK, grandma had an ulcer and there was dark stool...Christ, I have no insurance...fantastic, I will be homeless in a month...or perhaps dead...dead and homeless!? SOB!"

OK, I called out to my work (please it's Sunday and I am training 3 people that make Charlie Sheen look like he's got no commitment issues and I am not spending my last living hours at work) time to make lunch plans while I am still aliveeeeee!!!!

Out to lunch with a friend, he's a firefighter, plus we've been friends forever and he's suffered through discussions about poop and period more times than he'd care to admit... I didn't say he enjoyed them...sometimes, I wonder why he's still friends with me (different post). His advice "Ask your sister, she's a nurse...crazy..still a nurse." Men...so helpful.

I did one better (my sister is at work and she doesn't have her phone on her at all times), I alerted my nurse friend/workout buddy Krysten...our text exchange follows...

Me: "One of the two things is happening. I'm either bleeding internally from Ibuprofen I've been taking last few days or my uterus decided to shed mid-month with no rhyme or reason...no it's not a miscarriage, you'd have to have sex for that and if it was, this would mean that once again God has a personal vendetta against me."

K: "Are you doing anything about that?"

Me: "Yes! Meditating myself into NOT bleeding to death...and my friend can repay me for lunch by marrying me and extending me his insurance (worst case scenario;-)). I have no pain which is strange when one is bleeding to death...I expected more suffering."

K: "Lol. You know to watch out for black sticky poop...I'm off for a hike...let me know if you need anything, I will come get you."

When I got home, I had this brilliant idea...to glance at my Period App and see how early would this thing be, if it was "that time of the month"... only. 4. days... according to my smart phone app... (who has a period app you ask...apparently people like me that can't keep track of shit and are "in tune" with their own body).

Sooooo.... I am NOT bleeding to death, I am just bleeding for 7-10 days as a reminder of my femininity aka ability to procreate. Obviously, God is a man...this reproduction system is lacking (why have it, if it's not being utilized), and he clearly hasn't met me if I still get to keep the childbearing ability!

P.S. I feel like a blimp...a dumb blimp.
Almost forgot, for Valentine's Day I didn't get flowers or chocolate...I got a speeding ticket...technically...a date.in a month.with a judge. Better than syphilis, even though STD's will not land you in jail and moving violations just might. Still, ticket it is.

Morgan Freeman and Christmas cookies

Well since my last weeks mood swing/brownie extravaganza mentally I have calmed down...however I've been eating everything in sight...I mean everything, like liver w onions, salad, baked potato, oatmeal with cranberries, almond and vanilla protein, apple and a dark chocolate peanut butter sandwich...all in one sitting. Repeat 3-5 times a day...fml.

Finally, went to crossfit this morning (no classes on weekends) and performed awful...due to all the shit I've been cramming down my throat. Super...

On the drive back home, commercial came on voiced over by Morgan Freeman and since my father passed I frequently think how I will become homeless and now I don't even have his driveway to live in...nice. Then after hearing Morgan's voice I thought "his voice is so warm and soothing, it's like Christmas cookies with a glass of hot chocolate (plain milk...wtf...are you nuts?!) and if I was homeless I'd get enough money to pay for transport to California and buy a Morgan Freeman audio book (hopefully there's such a thing) and I would live on the beach and play that thing over and over...".

I am not quite sure where this randomness comes from. I however see that it is still revolving around food in one way or another. Excellent.

Running sucks...and this is why

I felt like I should continue writing...foul mood and all...and since PF Chang's Marathon is this weekend I figure I can write about how much I hate running (and since we had to run 400m in crossfit class today).

Running sucks because:

• I am pretty large (over 5'9" and 155lbs), yes I am not framed for running
• I have flat feet and unstable ankles
• I have boobs, sore nips from running are NOT cool
• I am not coordinated (think of Mr. Bean)
• it's pointless..unless someone is chasing me..even then I will stop and think "will I be able to run away or just die tired???", if it's the latter...just kill me...put me out of my misery
• let's be honest I've never seen a runner that I wanted to look like...fantastic you can run...well I have a car so... there

And this weekend will look like this...work til 3 am...wake up at 5am...fight the traffic driving downtown with millions of others...drop my cousin off in the cold ass weather (it's been in the 20's in the mornings...for Arizona that is COLD). Then either go back home to bed and risk oversleeping and missing her cross the finish line (like last year) or go to Tempe/Snottsdale area...fight for parking... and kill the next 4,5,6 hours...however long marathon takes.

Super fantastic, just what I wanna do. And don't get me wrong I am all about people keeping fit and exercising...just not on my time.

And who is the genius thought this crap would be fun??? You want to donate money..just do it, no need to run for fuck sake. It's kind of like golf, people say it's an excuse to drink...I never needed an excuse, I can just drink...no need to pretend I'm playing the game, drinking or otherwise. (Oh and by the way golf is as much of a sport as chess is...yeah I said it.)

So yay for PF Chang's Marathon...(if you put less MSG in your food perhaps people can run just a 5K...now there's a thought).

There's Lexapro for that!!! (Is there really???)

So today, my day off, is one of those days where my "cuntly levels" (as one of my exes used to refer to) are OFF THE CHARTS (for no particular reason mind you). It's like PMS minus the PMS.

Had a nightmare that I am 14, taking care of my siblings and my father died...and I couldn't handle the pressure... Except that already sort of happened...but he died this year (I'm 33). Whatever, it was a disturbing dream, I cried and screamed in my dream...my dogs were all concerned looking when I woke up. 

Then I decided to fuck around on Facebook...to bad I don't receive a paycheck for that. People whining, cat pics, baby pics, pro gun control...anti gun control... the usual...fuck that, let me get productive (riiight!).

Afterwards, plan was to clean the house as I have family coming to town this Saturday..damn you PF Chang's Marathon.  (I like my cousins...generally...today I like no one...I want to punch myself in the throat.) Well, that plan went to shit as I was not in the mood (btw I'm NEVER EVER in the mood to clean)...so I decided to drive over to the dentist (my father used as he gave him great discount, apparently I am not my father...aka I don't have insurance they can bill for BS...hence no discount for me) and that was time wasted. Call a different office...helpful receptionist...scheduled for mid March...will I even be alive then???

Sent text to my mother to see if she needs me over to write checks for the bills that may have gotten there since I snapped at her last (don't ask...no she's not demented, it's just one of those things that my father took care of and she likes to pass the buck...marvelous)...she replied 3 hours later...indecisive, of course "...call me...I'll call u...if you have time...later...afternoon..evening.."...fantastic, now I am even more annoyed.

Since my evening will go to shit...let me try and reschedule my dinner plans with a friend and make them into lunch plans...he can't...of course not!

Bought a chocolate bar and ate it, in 2 bites...nothing, still a bitch. 

I couldn't even shop...I know my mood if foul if I can't find shit to buy at my favorite store-Last Chance (if you live in AZ and you haven't been...you're NOT a shopper period).

And on my drive back home few more things annoyed me....

Radio talking about Lance Armstrong admitting to doping...WHO FUCKING CARES???...I see it as cheating, I don't give a shit that everyone else is doing it and it gives you a competitive edge...you didn't get there on your own merit, so still cheating. On top of that when you got caught...grow a pair and man up...admit it right away, enough of this farce...then again any publicity is good publicity, right?! And to all of those that are "Oh but he did so much for the foundation..." yes and he got paid. Then Nike has the audacity to drop Lance for doping and they keep that piece of sh.. Michael Vick on their payroll...cause he's such a great quarterback (and a role model)...OMG. Enough...NEXT!

Person next to me driving a Fiat. My thoughts..."who the eff are they kidding...how did JLo's ass fit in that car...what kind of lube did they use...Christ that is a tiny vehicle...must be one of those "I am so European in my itsy bitsy car people"...yeah you're gonna be dead too, once a Tahoe runs you over".

At home..mailman came, so I ran out to get my mail...hoping for a miracle of a better mood...SOB!.. CAN THAT MOFO READ???? why do I still keep getting mail (3 years later) for Ms. Maria Hernandez, after I wrote my last name followed by the word only and the smiley face inside of my mailbox. Jesus, no shit people go postal.

I shouldn't be allowed days off...wtf is wrong with me???? I did say I was a beast today...should probably go sleep this off...but it is 3pm...waaaaaa. 

"You Come Here Often???"

Hello 2013! Seems like the only people that made a resolution to come to the gym this year are FREAKS...yup, creepy freaks.  Perhaps January is a national "don't take your meds month" and I just don't know about it...

Here's today's gem...

I am leaning against my work desk in t-shirt and sweatpants at the gym. Man stops by and says: "There are 2 gay guys that would appreciate you not standing like that (he winks and smiles)...Get it? Gay guys..."

So you are making a pass at me.....or...two guys confused my back side for man's...either case, sweet baby Jesus help me!!!

I looked at him and replied: "Well, perhaps you can tell the gay guys, if they were more concerned with their workout and less with my ass dressed in Hanes sweatpants (what can I say I love those stupid things) they may see some results."

And is that your good pickup line?? If so, I would hate to hear your bad one??

Also, I'll go out on a limb here and guess you don't get laid often...then again I could be wrong (highly doubt that).

Off he went and grunted loudly (even though he was a smaller guy-read even more pathetic) as he did chest presses a few feet over...mmm take me now...NOT...Freak!!!

Twinkle Toes

So, as I mentioned..or didn't, I have ADD...I don't even believe in that really, I mean who doesn't nowadays. Being bombarded with information 24/7, always on the run...regardless. Let's just say my attention span is pretty short...non-existent practically. This plays into every aspect of my life...career, love, this blog...

Also, feet are probably my worst feature...size 10 (and growing, seems like), torn ligaments several times in both ankles, hereditary bunions (that will sprout at any time), uneven toes on left and right foot...paint the picture for you?!

Well, I've had an ingrown toenail issue for a few years now and I trimmed it often (yes I am writing about this), blah blah blah...however, this year with my increased activity (spin classes I teach, as well as crossift workouts I attend weekly) that issue has gotten worse...need to bring in the big guns aka. podiatrist.

And...since I have no medical insurance (get off your high horse), I called around to see if there's cash discount offered and what the prices are. Basically, for the price of cutting one ingrown toenail, I can buy all 4 brand new tires for my car and windshield wipers (cause they are a must in AZ...generally they disintegrate from the heat and sun between uses). I was very close to just taking a hammer to my toe and having the toenail grow back out (with hopes it would be fixed), when I called the office of a local female podiatrists with very good reviews and even better, a knowledgable receptionist, that called me back with an exact quote mind you (given no infection)...$250. Ta dah.

So I head out in my Hanes sweatpants and a t-shirt, ponytail on top of my head, as I wasn't getting all beautified for someone handling my feet..c'mon.... However, when I got there my podiatrist was a guy, the most adorable mid 30's (I'm assuming), dark hair, blue eyed, Southern gentleman...FUCK MY LIFE!!!

"Hello want to see my gross toe??? Marvelous. :-)"...oh well business is business. Right?!

"Surgery" went well...he moved to AZ a year ago from Tennessee (love your accent)...lives in Biltmore area...his father is coming to visit in a few weeks (they may stop by the restaurant I also work at...his idea)...he's unsure what he wants to be when he grows up (I love you)...he likes to exercise (love you more)...I have a follow up in 10 days and he will fix my toenail for free if it grows back ever (love you even more) and he charged me $50 less than I was quoted (he may not know this..but in my head...we are ENGAGED ladies and gentlemen).

I am quite sure he is this nice to all of his patients (after all he is Southerner)...yet due to my insanity I will be shopping for a wedding dress later on today. (Not to worry...we will be divorced by the end of the week...hellooooo crazy).

Pray Tell Why You Don't Exercise...Actually Don't!

Here's a little disclaimer first...I work part time as a personal trainer at a local gym. I love my long term clients, they work hard and are dedicated (for the most part)...their eating habits are a different story, but we are working on that. We pick and choose our battles and celebrate small victories. Life does happen ladies and gentlemen and not everyone is me I do realize that (not that I don't have my issues...good God don't get me started...portion control, sweet tooth, self loathing, no off switch...). This all being said every once in a while I get a client (that I get rid off as quickly as I can from my schedule) that just isn't the right fit aka a WHINER. Over the years these are just some of the gems that I heard regarding exercise and nutrition...

"I didn't wake up on time (late for appt at 11 am) because I work four 10 our days (7am-7pm)."

I got 3 jobs...try again.
...


"I don't like to sweat."

Fantastic...first of all, you may want to move from Arizona and then may I suggest a liposuction or wiring your jaw shut (for all the obvious reasons).
...


"My knees hurt and I get winded quickly."

Well I would hurt too if I had to carry that load.
...


"I don't want to get bulky."

You're already bulky, now let's get to work. The day you start looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger I will let you know (not to worry, we got WAAAYS to go). 
 ...


" I am allergic to water."

And I am allergic to bullshit, yet here we are.
...


"I quit drinking soda...I only had 32oz today."

Are you shitting me?! You're the reason shampoo bottles have directions on them.
...


"I have a hairline fracture..."
Me: "Where?"
"Well, it's not a fracture yet...but it hurts."

Excellent, we got a doctor in the house...well, I have an aneurism...not today, but I am sure it will happen if I continue listening to this BS.

 ....and in conclusion, it is perfectly OK we are not all the same (this world would be an awful place if everyone was like me). Some like physical activity, others don't. Some are fit, some fat, some skinny. And that is OK. However, please own your bullshit and accept it...stop feeding it to others! Thank you. 

Mr. Handsy (or community service)

So New Year new me...I decided that since I have been going to the gym for years..I could try and step it up and perhaps lean out..not eat as much crap..perhaps even try to compete/get some sponsorship...all in one day, clearly.

Well, I went and hiked Camelback with a good buddy of mine. Then, we had lunch, really healthy btw...went home...screwed around on the computer and decided to go crush it at the gym a few hours later. (Crush it is when I am all pumped aka my douche mode is on...otherwise it's just lift weights.)
Workout was awesome...then I decided I should stretch, since I never take the time to do it. 

So here I was, on the floor (long pants and t-shirt, no stuff hanging out here) stretching and a guy in his 50's (good looking 50's) sat down to use a stretching chair contraption...he started conversation about my socks...then his kid and a basketball scholarship...I was up by that time and he's all "you're ripped" and grazed my stomach.......................................................you gotta be f****** kidding me.

Generally, I would have ripped his arm off, beat him with it and then jostle it up his bunghole. However, I was having a great day up to that point and why let him ruin it?!...so I just shot him a look that said "don't push your luck mofo, I did time for much less once, I don't mind doing it again"...so he swiftly wrapped up the conversation and left.

And for the record I am far from ripped (I'm about 5'9 and 155 lbs)...he was just a dirty old man coping a feel. How is it OK to touch someone like that??? And why do I always attract freaks???

I myself was a tad stunned at my reaction...or the lack thereof...if you know me this was his VERY LUCKY day...but I figured he can have that memory to masturbate later and I shall mark this as community service in my book.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!