Exercise, humor, self-help, Uncategorized

Diet Dumb Down

cat-74134.jpegOnce in a while, I peruse online videos –like cat videos – no -and wonder about learning something new. About a new diet phenom. Sometimes I do learn about a new weight loss challenge. Do cats go on diets? Quiet, you. Most times I don’t learn anything. Darn it.  Most of it is just nonsense because the reality is that we all know to eat our veggies and just get off our butts and workout. Sing it, sister! That’s it. And, forget about the cat being on a diet. You don’t need an uprising. Anyway… I had realized at the beginning of this year, I had gained a little weight and was NOT happy about it.

Wah! I want to hold a cat now!  You can’t… you’re allergic. 

So, I started getting back on track. Yay! I was working out and eating right but it just wasn’t bringing the weight down to my desired goal. What goal was that? Stealing the neighbor’s feline, and hitting a treadmill? Maybe. And then I found intermittent fasting. And a cat with a headband who was ready to rock. Which was great to stumble upon; (IF, not the exercise kitty) but not so great to watch and read millions of content that was literally making me dizzy with confusion and annoyance.

Like this, *ah *ah *achoooooo, cat allergy… here, hold this fluffy thing for me so I can explain without going into anaphylactic shock.pexels-photo-384555

While I care about facts and results, I care much more deeply on acquiring this information quickly, with ease and bullet pointed. I don’t want pages and pages of crap, garbling up my existence.

Garbles of crap. Existence being garbled…  standby.

Now, this isn’t to say I don’t enjoy a good romance novel here -which are some times long, with garbles of pages to read (unlike my romance novella series, which is great, you should read it. Just saying… )

Shameless plug much? Hush. Go find a meow-meow or something. Focus.

But I most definitely don’t want my “how-to do somethings” and “hey, what’s new that I want to learns” thwarted into my pea-brain all willy nilly. Most of the time, out of everything we read and watch, we can bet that less than 20% of what was just shoved down your throat was the heart… of the three hours you wasted on whatever the heck it was you were trying to learn. Case in point. History Channel. Spends an hour going in and out of commercials, repeating the same things over and over… and you learn only a few things at the beginning, once in the middle and the main thing at the end you were waiting for… or became disappointed by.

Was that your version of a statistical fact? Um, yeah, I guess so. Oh, geez… 

Well, yeah, I could’ve walked my giraffe in her tutu that she’s been bugging me to wear!

That being said. After weeks and months of researching and clouding my monkey brain with information on the subject, I decided to simplify it. No one else should have to work as hard as I did to find out what they want to know! I know, I was sent from heaven. An angel of sorts. Here the soft sounds of music above my halo?

I just feel we are in the age of over-information, over-stimulation, and the “I’m over-everything-ation.” Could just be you, darling. Yes, that could be correct. Wouldn’t be the first time. Nope. images

Too much! Circling back, here’s my simplified version, sans a Frito-eating purring puffball,  on the subject of IF. Or intermittent fasting – for those who aren’t up on the diet fad’s lingo.

Oh, and I left my wings and harp at home, sorry guys!

Enjoy!

humor, self-help

Fantasy Foosball Maid

pexels-photo-207906
Hey bear, eyeing the suspenders I’m looking at? Better not.

Yes, folks, it’s that time again. What time is that? Kids are back in school. Yay! I can finally cruise the malls (without eye-rolling teenagers bouncing the halls). Snagging all the sizes I just happen to wear. Inevitably convenient. And…

Football is back. Woohoo! And… so is fantasy football. *Sigh… I hate fantasy football.

Before you rage in a fit of anger and start commenting about how important this is in the schism of your existence. Don’t. I don’t care. She doesn’t.  I’ll likely have the comment marked as spam and it will never see the light of day anyway.  See, she doesn’t. Just a typing of waste on your end, shall you proceed. Told you, she doesn’t. Wah. Just saying.

That being said and In the spirit of my loathing, I’m going to start my own fantasy league. Fantasy Foosball Maids. What? Oh yeahhh…

Fantasy football literally kills me inside. Waste of time. I am not going to make many friends with this post and frankly, maybe it’ll weed out the weak. Wah. Cry babies. You know like when your fake team has an injured player and he’s out the rest of the year and like, I don’t know, somehow ruins your whole life. Is this all you’re worth? Maybe. And now you’re going to cry.  Oh DEAR… you ARE really crying.

I can’t watch.

So, If you can take a joke, great. Or not. Either way… Keep reading. *shrugs

Just like the fake football fantasy everyone, but me plays; it’s more likely that I’m just field-sport-ball-america.jpgupset they don’t have fantasy maid service.  I’d like to add one of those to my home team.  The maid? No. The foosball team of maids. Oh that makes sense. *shakes head back and forth

Fantasy football is a fake team. And the team of ‘foosball maids’ is real? Stay with me. It’s everyone’s individual picks of REAL players on their PRETEND team with points that add up (or subtract) at the end of the season and… it’s big business. Gamblers anon anyone? My measly opinion isn’t worth unicorn poo. Nope. People can make some serious dough playing that stuff though. With unicorn poo? Uh no. It has glitter in it, you know. Pay attention. But, look if you’re going to look at me for a conversation –don’t– on your pretend team –seriously, don’t– with real players who would not EVER all play on one said team. Just… don’t. EVER.

person-looking-searching-clean.jpgI think this resonates with a lot of girls, moreover than it will guys; as, naturally a lot of girly girls are more worried about our face makeup looking the ‘too caked-on in the application’ stage to the ‘out into the sunshine in public’ stage. What? Forget it. Basically, mostly guys are into this make believe football crap. So, here’s a proposition: Let’s start a Fantasy Foosball Maid team. We’ll get a bunch of real guys and gals together across the globe to play foosball. And clean the house. Now that’s entertainment I can put my money on!

What the devil are you saying woman? 

Hmmm… 

Well, maybe you’re on to something here.

Oh I am. I so am.

Pick up that duster sweetheart and get those blinds dust-free. You gotta foosball tournament in an hour.

Exercise, humor, self-help

The Backbend Challenge

There’s something to be said about a person that can become a human pretzel. Ooo! Sourdough! Cheese-filled! No. No real pretzels up for grabs here. Wah. Although, I could for some of those right about now. Does sound pretty delicious. pretzels-fritters-baked-goods-food-162996.jpeg

While I can’t contort myself into a small shippable box, I am fairly flexible and this skill has literally served me no real purpose in my day to day normal life.  As an adult. All those hours in the competitive sector of gymnastics and what do I have to show for it? Peanut butter pretzels?! Pretty much nothing… except a love of salted snack foods while sitting in the splits in front of the television. Yeah, that’s normal.

IMG_1957.JPGThe reality is that aside from nailing a commercial gig for being able to catch a battery one-handed, or securing that spot in a t.v. show because I could do a front arial, gymnastics hasn’t really been super beneficial in life as an adult.

Until now… Wait. You’re an adult? Hush. Not really, shhh, that grownup thing is for the birds. Don’t tell anyone, it’ll be our secret. I mean, I can meander into a schoolyard and get mistaken for a teenager. Why would you meander into a schoolyard to begin with? I was making a point. Yeah, a creepy point. I’m not meandering into a schoolyard. Focus! Geesh! I was challenged to do The Backbend Challenge. And I successfully… sucked at it! Couldn’t have been that bad. Hold on: One would think that holding a backbend for 3 whole minutes, however short a span of time that would be, wouldn’t be too terribly horrific. But, by minute numero uno, I could already feel the burn! Or the blood rushing to my head. Like my head was going to pop off and take a journey around the sidewalk. Oh yeah, fun times.

Regardless, I have taken the challenge. Survived it, barely.  How did I do? That depends on if you lost any body parts, ma’am. My head is still in tact, no popping off and rolling around the floor. Yikes. You get the point.

Well, you’ll have to check out the video for the results! And grab some pretzels!