Archives for category: Another reason I’m AWESOME!

Oh except not.

Apparently my goal for the weekend was to embarrass myself in public as soon as I possibly could. It didn’t take long. Friday night Brian and I were going to look at bikes. I’ve been wanting to get a bike for a while now so I could get my cardio in someway other than jogging. See I’ve already figured out that if for some horrible reason I do go to Hell that Satan is going to curse me to jogging for the rest of eternity. That pretty much sums up my feelings towards jogging.

Brian pulls down a bike for me to try. It’s a smaller bike because I’m only about a Snooki and half. I hop on to try it out.

YOU ALL, I FORGOT HOW TO RIDE A BIKE!

How does this even happen? I could not keep my balance and my feet couldn’t grasp the pedals. It took me around ten minutes just to make it down the aisle. I was flipping and flopping the whole way down though.

Then we try a child’s bike. Things weren’t much better with this. I could actually maneuver this bike, but I was still flopping everywhere. I’m not really sure what happened in the couple of years that it’s been since I’ve ridden a bike. You actually can forget how to ride a bike. Let me be an example of this.

Needless to say my husband sent me to go practice on the recumbent bikes.

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Last night Brian and I decided to go on a walk at a trail near our house. It was the first truly warm day in a while so we thought it’d be fun. Obviously the dogs were not invited because they are terrors and if there’s another person or animal within twenty feet of them they feel like they need to show their dominance.

We were casually strolling along and we see this well behaved dog and this couple walking them. As we were talking about how well behaved the dog was the couple got closer and the guy started talking to us.

Crap.

I know this guy and here he is with his well-behaved dog and gorgeous wife. And here I am, wind-blown, thankfully no dogs, and an old t-shirt with a black sports bra showing proudly through said old t-shirt.

And he said, “Oh nice basketball camp shirt.”

Dangit!

I should know by now that anytime I dress like I’m not going to see someone I know, I’ll see someone I know.

Lesson learned.

Listen, I was not what you would call “popular” in high school. I wouldn’t say I was unpopular but I was definitely not popular. I never went to prom, I never went to parties, and I really didn’t ever date. Wow, maybe I was unpopular. It probably had something to do with my poufy hair and hairy arms.

I really didn’t care though. It wouldn’t bother me if my Friday night consisted of a little TGIF and some bonding time with my parents. Maybe this sounds like more of the Friday night you all had, but, I know most people in my high school were out partying and living it up.

On top of all of the bonding with the Olsen twins I was doing during TGIF, I was also doodling. Some major doodling if you ask me.

This is what started it off. I think I saw someone’s henna tattoo in a magazine or something and it just blew up from there.

If you’ll notice, I did do all of these on notebook paper and this one has the holes on the sides to prove it! Obviously I’m a natural artist, obviously.

I’m not sure what message I was trying to convey with this one. I’m sure it was pretty deep since Earth was at the center of this one.

Why would I have needed a boyfriend in high school when I have markers and notebook paper? Now that is the saddest thing I’ve ever written.

You know those moments when you wish you could go back in time and erase what you just said and then move on with life? That happened last weekend at a lunch gathering with my in-laws at Chilis.

Brian was telling a story and he said a phrase that sounded somewhat offensive. (I won’t give the details because this is a kid-friendly blog) (not that any kids are reading it, but just in case)

I said, with a snicker, “Oh honey you may want to re-phrase that.” Still laughing at myself.

His mother just looked at me like, “Hmmm…”

And his grandfather said, “What? OH–I didn’t even think of that until you said something about it.”

To which my husband replied, while glaring at me, “Yeah, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”

I turned about 30 shades of red and buried my head in my arms while everyone laughed. I remember turning red and getting embarrassed later in the meal but I’ve blocked it out and completely forgot what it was about.

If someone could please pry my foot out of my mouth it would make it a lot easier to breathe. Thanks!

I’m throwing a pity party for myself. I know that’s shocking to all of you. I’m either complaining about something or feeling sorry for myself. Today it’s feeling sorry for myself.

You all, I have wrinkles.

There I admitted it and it doesn’t sound any better when I type it out.

I’ve had gray hair for a while. Not full-out gray, but I’d find one here and there since high school. I handled it well. I didn’t freak out and I would just pull it out of my scalp and move on. Granted I would spend about ten minutes examining it to make sure it was in fact gray and not an errant blond hair that grew in.

But wrinkles? WRINKLES?!! I’m not even thirty! I was staring at myself in the mirror, full face of make-up and there they were–crows feet. Some people call them laugh lines, I refuse to call them laugh lines. They’re more like depression lines. I think I would never smile again if it meant these wrinkles would go away. [Insert sad trombone here]

There’s just something so permanent about wrinkles. I’ve already been researching how to get rid of them. The plumping creams and the line fillers. It’s made me want to crawl in a hole and never show my face again.

Either that or have a facelift.

Call me crazy, but I may be overreacting a wee bit. If you see scotch tape at my temples holding up my sagging jowls just throw me in the loony bin.

Ladies, when you’ve got a little pudge going on in the middle you know you’re always looking for ways to cover up. Luckily this is an area I am all too familiar with and have become an expert in hiding my gut with any and every inanimate object in range.  Some things are actually living that you may use, but it’s worth the wiggling/crying to cover that gut.

Here’s the list of things to use to hide yo’ belly:

1. Let’s start with the obvious first. When you’re at your house or the house of a friend just grab a couch pillow or even a blanket. People may look at you funny at first if you’re seen cradling a couch pillow like a baby, but after the initial awkwardness people forget about it. Blankets are seasonal, generally you can’t get away with the blanket trick in the middle of July.

2. Another trick that will work is dogs and cats.  Granted you couldn’t use one of my dogs sitting on your lap unless you wanted to lose total feeling in your lower extremities.  Anytime a lap dog or cat is in a household immediately become friends with it because it will provide an easy cover for the ol’ bel-bel.

3. The purse.  A purse is best utilized in dark situations like a movie theater. The only reason you should not use your purse would be if it’s a really crowded theater and there’s a threat that someone may be sitting in the seat next to you. I would much rather have my belly exposed in a dark theater than have to share an arm rest with a complete stranger. Plus, you can always get a large popcorn to hold which will easily cover up your tummy. It’s also the cause of your tummy but that’s a different story for a different time.

4. At church you’re sort of in a bind.  You’re around a bunch of people you know, in a public setting, and you’re also standing and sitting a lot. My solution? A Bible or a songbook. Just hold it right in front of you on your lap and no one will be the wiser.  Another option? A friend’s baby. You do run the risk of being stuck with a crying baby on your lap but that’s a risk you’ve got to be willing to take.

5. Work. This is obvious right? Your desk.  Whoa, whoa, whoa speedster. Slow down there. What if you have a glass desk? What if you don’t have a desk? What about the side view that people can see? Easy. Always pretend like your cold and where either a bulky sweater or a coat. I’m not going to lie, many days you will sweat, but that’s the price you pay. And no one will notice anyway. Unless sweat starts dripping down your face. Just always keep a sweat rag on hand.

And finally,

6. If you’re at a restaurant with other people always, ALWAYS, ask for a booth. When you go to sit down be sure and sit on the inside of the booth.  That way you always have someone blocking you.

I hope these tips have been somewhat helpful and it also gives you a peek into how nuts I truly am.

Let me know if you try any of these out or if you have any of your own!

This morning there was enough ice to postpone work until 1:00pm.  I decided I’d go in early so I didn’t have to fight the lunch traffic and oh yeah, that treacherous ice had turned into puddles.  Even though I wanted to stay home an extra hour to catch up on the Toddlers & Tiaras I had dvr’d, I had to be an adult and get going.

I was driving along minding my own business when I happened upon a wreck under a bridge.  The wreck was blocking my lane so I obviously got over. Well, as I was changing lanes I slipped on the one sheet of ice that was still in existence in all of central Oklahoma. 

Remember how I said there was already a wreck there? There was also a tow truck there and a tow truck driver. And as I’m swerving back and forth I realize, “oh yeah, I may hit this guy.” And as I look over I see him trotting off and hopping around his truck to avoid the maniacal driver that is about to cost him his dear life.

All I could say was, “Oooooopssssss,” as I passed him. I didn’t have the heart to look in my rear-view mirror to see him cleaning out his boxers.

I’ve been called a lot of things in my life: hairy, fat, skanky, nubby…the list could go on and on. And Mom, I’m just joking about the skanky part…maybe. Two things that I’ve been called that are supposed to be insults I take as a compliment: weird and odd. To me being considered weird is an endearing quality. You all probably think I’m nuts for thinking that.

Yes, I like to talk to my dogs like they’re people. I know it’s weird but I like it. Yes, I like to skip and dance around stores every once in a while because it’s fun–it may be embarrassing to the people I’m with but it’s fun to me. Yes, I can’t look at myself in the mirror when I’m brushing my teeth. Why? I have no clue–but it’s something that makes me, me. Do I often say things before thinking? Always…and that’s why most of the things that come out of my mouth are incoherent babble!

Could you imagine life if everyone was the same? That would be so boring snoring. We all have our weird, odd sides. I love that side of people! I love making my husband do things that are normally embarrassing to people but not to me. Although one of my favorite games to play is “Try to Embarrass the Person You’re With” game. It never works on my mom but always works on my husband and friends [cough, cough-Lauren]. 

So today, I encourage you to send a random email to your best friend (I did, and all it said was “meat.”) dance through the aisles of a store (did that last night) or sing at the top of your lungs in a parking lot (I’ll add that to my to-do list for the weekend.) Just don’t do anything to get yourself arrested.  

Let me know some of your weird qualities. Weirdness is contagious!

Throughout the years I’ve had several nicknames: ginges, gingela, lil’ boog (that one’s my brother’s fault-his high school nickname was Booger therefore I obviously had to be lil’ boog), She-nay-nay, werewolf (that wasn’t so much a nickname as an insult) and nubs. While I’ve appreciated all of these nicknames [not] it was time for something else.

Over the holiday weekend I decided to give myself a nickname. I saw a lady doing an interview on some television show that went by the name “Taffy.” I wanted it. That had to be my nickname. I’ve forced my husband to start calling me that and I refuse to respond to anything other than the name Taffy. I feel like I’m a good Taffy. Sweet and sticky and chewy and delicious. I would say those are all great descriptors for me. Although, I can’t decide if I want to be Tangy, Laffy or Salt Water Taffy.

My husband was lucky enough to also receive a nickname: Hambone. I’m not sure where that one came from. I think I had a dream about it and therefore it was his destiny to be referred to from here on out as Hambone. The nickname doesn’t really fit him at all but if I have anything to do with it when he dies, which knock on wood is many many decades away, his tombstone will read RIP Hambone.

Taffy and Hambone. Hambone and Taffy. Sounds like a winning combo to me…

Last night I went to a pizza place I hadn’t been to since basically high school. It brought back so many fond memories of me and my friends going there every Sunday night after evening worship. Ohh the memories; the pizza, the drinks, the arcade games, and the innocence of not being an adult and not having to worry about bills, money, broken down cars, and other stress-inducing scenarios that come with being an adult.

My fondest memory of that particular pizza place is an eating contest that took place there. It was between me  and one of the biggest guys in my class. [By big I don’t mean fat, I mean he was well over six feet tall and was just a big guy.]

Here’s the challenge: Whoever could eat a large pizza the fastest [I didn’t know it was timed fyi] wins.

We each ordered our large pizza and right when it came out we started chowing down. Keep in mind that it was fresh out of the oven. So as I’m eating as fast and as much as I could stuff in my mouth, the roof of my mouth was slowly deteriorating from the burns that I was causing by eating a pizza right out of the oven. Random side note to this, this was also the night that I met one of my friend’s boyfriends for the first time. He had to sit across from me and witness this. I’m sure deep down inside behind that horrified look he was impressed.

After about 20 minutes I hear him say, “DONE!” And I still had maybe two or three pieces left. This is where the fact that I didn’t know it was timed comes into play. I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS TIMED! I thought it was who could eat the most. Dagnabit I had been had. He had beat me.

A few years later, in front of our whole congregation on Senior Night, he informed me and the whole congregation that he had cheated. He had eaten the whole pizza, but later that night he had puked over and over. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that after I had finished my whole large (because I did finish it even though the contest was over) I was hungry a couple of hours later.

But the moral of this story is: I WON–NEENER NEENER NEEEEEEEENER.