Category: blog

I’m not really one to talk shit. Well, actually, I am.  In fact, if I had a Native American name it would probably be ShitTalker (I’ve probably said this before, sometime when I was talking shit). Luckily, I don’t have a Native American name.

 

I really don’t talk about fecal matter much. I mean, I poop, just like everybody does, and I have my little routine – thank you Wilson Phillips for the amazing song and video ‘Hold On.’ For the record, that’s not my only loo song, but it is my favorite. I often sing, ‘Everybody Poops,’ to the tune of ‘Everybody Hurts’ – thanks R.E.M.

 

In addition to music, I like to do a little reading when I’m in the loo. Just this last weekend Rated R and I came to the conclusion that if ‘The Gideons’ really wanted people in hotels to read the Bible they would put it in the loo and not the bedside table. I’ve got several books in my loo, one of which might help me solve this Poo Done It? mystery.

 

Last year, Sleepless gave me a Bathroom Guest Book (I think they missed a prime opportunity to call this a Bathroom Guest Log) for, apropos, my bathroom guests to sign. Over the last year, several have signed the book and have taken the time to include a doodle, aka, poodle.

 

Recently (yesterday), my sewer line backed up and now, as a result of not being able to use the toilet, I’m backed up. Outside of old pipes, I’m curious as to who caused the situation to occur. I’ve been out of town, MiniMe left over a month ago, and the only other people who have been in my house and, more specifically, my loo, have signed the Bathroom Guest Book. Alas, turning this case into an official “Poo Done It?”

 

Based on the last entry in the book, there may be two (yes, ‘number two’) suspects.

Tree and Awkward were at my house the other night and Tree made an observation, “You haven’t blogged forever.” “I know, ” I replied feeling a slight hint of guilt, or maybe I just had too much wine and was getting flushed. “The last entry was August 2nd,” Tree went on. “August 2nd? Holy shit! Alert the authorities. I’ve been hacked. There’s no way I’ve blogged that recently,” was my reply.

 

Fact is, Turkish hackers have attempted to access my blog far more frequently than I have over the last month. I’ve no good reason for not blogging. In fact, I have plenty of reasons to blog – even if I do so by hand and type it later. One reason I should blog is a lot happens in one day. If I fail to post it on the world wide web for everyone to see, on the same day that it happens, then I often just forget it in general. Another reason I should blog is my fans: Sleepless, Tree, Rated R, Scared and, when she’s in it, That’s Not Chinese, apparently read it. Lastly, my satellite has been out for the last month.

 

So, with one full month of non-blogging and major activity under my belt (as well as major activity above my belt – who likes muffin tops?), I’m blogging again!

Sleepless and I decided to go all out today in more than one way. We started the day with toning Zumba, then did regular Zumba, and then, because good things come in threes – or is it bad things? – we did swim Zumba.

 

This was the first time Sleepless has had the privilege of participating in swim Zumba at the city pool; however, based on the amazing things she was able to see for a mere $3.50, I know it won’t be her last. The make-up of today’s class was a little different from the class Beaner, MiniMe and I previously took. “This almost feels like rehab – all kinds of rehab: physical, substance abuse and just plain old getting old rehab,” I told Sleepless as participants continued to arrive. It was about this time that the class started and a short, well-rounded, spry elderly woman ran for the entrance of the pool – clearly, she did not want to miss a beat.

 

She wasted no time getting in the water and making her way around the pool. It was as if each song was oxygen for her soul. She sang several of the songs as she spun around in the water and often looked at Sleepless and I. “I couldn’t look at her,” Sleepless later informed me. Sleepless couldn’t look at her and the two of us couldn’t look at each other because if we did we would start laughing.

 

Class soon ended and Sleepless and I were contemplating how much more time we would spend in the pool when one of our Zumba mates said to another, “I’ve gotta get out or I’m going to pee in here.” It was then that we both knew our pool time was over.

In preparation for my big Alaska adventure, I purchased a pair of fishing, aka Dexter kill gloves, for me, MiniMe, That’s Not Chinese and Unfazed. I also purchased mosquito headnets.

 

“We don’t need headnets,” MiniMe told me. “We must get some hats for our headnets,” was That’s Not Chinese’s response.

 

While checking out the fishing gloves MiniMe shared some additional feedback, “We really don’t need to be going on a paid fishing expedition. I can catch and kill a fish with my hands.” I shared this feedback with That’s Not Chinese who said, “Tell her to put her money where her mouth is so I can put my mouth on some delicious fish. These gloves are huge – photo shoot! We’re going to have so many awesome pictures!”

 

As I drove That’s Not Chinese and Unfazed to the airport I gave them some sound advice, “Be sure to practice wearing and using the gloves and the headnet on the plane. When they hand you a bag of peanuts, hold them in your large kill glove and say, ‘Can you please help open my penis and snatchmix?’ That one never gets old.”

 

I’m not sure if we’ll catch too many fish with those gloves, but I know the  headnet will keep us from catching mostquitos and if That’s Not Chinese and Unfazed do as I advised on the plane they may catch some flack from the flight attendants.

Note: The title is not a pun about my cans.

 

A few years ago Ice Cream Man suggested that Sleepless and I get iPhones so we could ‘play games’ while on a road trip. My guess is he was hoping us playing games would prevent us from talking and driving him crazy while he drove us to our destination.

 

We eventually caved, turned in our Droids, and now we both have iPhones. Sleepless has had her phone a little longer than I’ve had mine, but collectively we’ve had them for over two years.

 

Today, while texting Rated R, I found a tool on my phone that changed my life: Voice Memos. I immediately started recording what I would normally text and then sending that on as my reply. I knew Sleepless would love this tool so, even though it was close to midnight, I sent her a Voice Memo. True to her name, she responded right away and, within seconds, me, Rated R and Sleepless were using Voice Memo to communicate.

 

My goal is to use this tool (and most likely all of the memory on my phone) for all future correspondence – blog, email and snail mail excluded.

Like most employed people, I have a back-up plan in the event I get canned. Initially, I’d like to do what a young laid-off teacher in Illinois did -not spend my days filling out applications; rather, I’ll just ride my bike and drink coffee; preferably at the same time.

 

When I get bored with that, and when my bank account really starts to dwindle, I intend to do as I did as a young child – live off of canned foods. I am, however, planning to take it a step further and attempt to make a living off of canned foods.

 

This idea presented to me while at a posh country club with coworkers. As we dined, we discussed who cooks at home and what defines cooking. I shared a few recipes with them from my childhood – canned cream of mushroom was always a staple – and a few recipes I’ve recently concocted. “You can – pun intended – make anything with a few canned goods and frozen items. If you want to spruce it up, add cheese, which you can often get near the canned foods, in a box.” I shared a few ideas and, as they mocked me, I told them, “You won’t be laughing when I’m starring in my own viral sensation: ‘Canned’ or ‘Yes, We Can!’ or ‘I Can Cook’ or ‘You Can Cook Too’ or ‘Can Do’.  The possibilities are endless.”

 

I’ve still got to work out the logistics, but I’ve no doubt I’m well on my way to stardom. As we left the country club one of my closer co-workers whispered, “I thought of a few other cans you can feature on the show, but didn’t want to shout that across the table.” “Oh, don’t think I haven’t thought about featuring my cans in the show. The camera shot will be from the neck down to the canned goods….on the kitchen counter.”

 

 

A lot of people have catch phrases. A few little known and well known examples are below:

 

Huh?

 

Are these dishes clean or dirty?

 

Don’t look at me.

 

Get off my set.

 

I’ll be back.

 

Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.

 

You’ve got mail.

 

Sorry, I don’t understand.

 

FatGirl recently decided to try out a new catch phrase of his own, “Cause Yalls a bunch of bitches…later nerds.” Unfortunately, he used it during a conversation with On My Terms and I so, accordingly, we said goodbye. He quickly replied, “Noooooooo don’t kick me out I just thought it was a perfect place to use my refurbished catch phrase.”

 

Wanting to get in on the whole catch phrase phenomenon I decided to take it up a notch and come up with a catch paragraph, “My laxatives are kicking in. Shit’s about to get real.” Pretty sure that shit’s going to go viral.

 

 

That’s Not Chinese loves an adventure. As we she has been planning our trip to Alaska she has been giddy with anticipation. “I’m so excited to catch a big fish, a really big fish. We have to go on a fishing expedition. I’m bringing home a salmon and a halibut.” She doesn’t stop there. “We have to go bear sighting – this is going to be amazing.”

 

Unfazed and I just sit back and listen to suggestions, bug our eyes out a bit when hearing the price for these adventures, and occasionally provide some suggestions of our own, “What if we just hang out in a hotel near the woods, watch a bear try to access the premises, and shit our pants for free. No need to pay high prices for something like that.” These comments go, essentially, unheard by That’s Not Chinese.

 

I booked our fishing expedition, read the fine print, then gave That’s Not Chinese a call. “We need to get fishing licenses and bring our own lunches and beverages.” “What? Why?” she asked. “We’re not on an all-inclusive cruise in Mexico, we’re going fishing in Alaska. Major difference. Do you have rain pants?” I replied. “Rain pants? No. Is it supposed to rain?”

 

They are going to love having us on this expedition; especially considering the last time I actually fished was in a backyard fishing pond where I ‘caught’ a small plastic toy. I’m not sure whether or not That’s Not Chinese has even done that. “You know Unfazed hates fish, right?” she asked me. “No. Why are we going on a ten-hour fishing expedition if she hates fish?” “We (translation: I) love this stuff!” was her response.

Being that my blogging has been rather infrequent, and when I do blog it is often about Zumba or  drinking, one might think all I do these days is drink and do Zumba. This is a fair, however, untrue assumption; I never drink before or during Zumba.

 

I have been doing quite a bit of Zumba and, to keep it exciting, I’ve been taking classes from multiple instructors. My most recent class involved a swimming pool. Big As The Sky became aware of my Zumba interest and invite me to attend a swim Zumba class with an instructor she met in Cancun. Not one to turn down an invitation to show off my lack of coordination – on land or in water – I confirmed my attendance.

 

MiniMe, Beaner and I showed up in out swimsuits to find several people dressed in Zumba gear. “We are getting in the pool, right?” we asked Big As The Sky. “Yes, we get in. They are the instructors – they stay outside,” she wisely advised. The class got started and we immediately got into the groove. The moves were very similar to those we normally do, however, there were several times we were expected to jump out of the water. My girls – not MiniMe or Beaner, rather, my ‘twins’ – got quite excited about this and jumped right out of my bikini top several times. In fact, when one of the instructors exclaimed, “Great job,” Beaner informed me, “She must have seen one of the twins.” From that point forward, when the instructors would ask all of us, “Are you ready?” I would reply, “Are you ready?” because I knew there was a good chance anyone in the surrounding area was about to see nip.

 

Note to self: Next time, where a very secure fitting one piece or look online for Zumba pasties.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s only one way to work off a day of blurred vision pool parties and drunk yoga and that is with Bikrumba- Bikram style Zumba.

 

As regulars at our fitness center, MiniMe, Sleepless, Ice Cream Man, Beaner and I have the luxury of working out in a facility where the temperature is kept at a balmy 80+ degrees in the summer. There is nothing more appealing then showing up to workout and finding that the temperature outside is, at times, cooler than that in the building.

 

This Monday our class was exceptionally Bikrumba. In addition, we had a new instructor who didn’t stop moving the entire class – even when she misstepped and we were all turning every which way except the way she was turning – she was determined and we were dripping with sweat.

 

“I’ve never sweat this much in here,” Sleepless said. “I’ve never sweat this much anywhere,” I replied and added, “I have, however, been on the other end of this much sweat once.” “I don’t even want to know what that means,” Ice Cream Man told me. Even though he said he didn’t want to know, we all know he really wants to know. If only he’d read my blog every now and again, he’d know that I once (maybe twice) participated in a different ‘fitness’ program.