Exercise, humor, Uncategorized

The YouTube Yoga Kick

Who would’ve thought that i could get a pretty kick ass workout on YouTube? No one.  I sure as hell didn’t. And neither does anyone else really. Like I said, nobody. Well, forget all them. Because this is my new way to feel sexy, and save money, so I can get those weird come on lines, like “Would you like a pistachio?” And make weird faces and respond like: Um, no. And he’ll continue on like, “I’m just offering you a nut, girl.” And I’ll be like: Huh? *Flip my hair, and hastily clip clop away. While feeling disgusted; but happy. Honestly, every female reading this knows that all you need is a great pair of heels and you’ll get hit on two shimmies from walking out your front door. No offense guys, but you know it’s true. Girls are complicated.

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Sweaty Pervenasium…

I have been working out in my building’s gym off and on since I started this ridiculous quest for muscle hotness, and A) There’s too many weirdos that are in there… staring.       B) I’m apparently so out of shape that I’m sweating profusely and it’s gross. I imagine the horrific weather we’ve been having so early on this summer, hasn’t helped that one bit. Thank you Mother Nature. I appreciate the many ways you find, to help aid in my public humiliation. As if I don’t have enough trouble doing that on my own. *impending sarcasm approaching* Sincerely, Thank you. So, I decided to give online working out a try. Remember, I don’t have television, so I have to be creative. Anyone want to build a birdhouse? Uh… Anyway, I found this chick, Courtney Bell, and she has a YOGA for weight loss… boot camp… three session… workout thing online. I figured, this is great. I didn’t want something too activity-invested. Lazy ass. But, I wanted something that could wake up my metabolism and get me motivated. Did it? It sure did! I was sore. The first day. The second day; I half assed it. But, I was still sore the following day. And the third sesh? It wasn’t as easy to find in the search thing; But, I found it, I powered through it and you know what? Yeah. I was hurtin. For a Cheeto. And they weren’t even long sessions. They were about half an hour long, and with her chatty demeanor at the beginning… It really only came out to appoximately twenty -some odd- minutes of actual rolling around on the floor. Downward dog what?

After, what I call the metabolism -wake up the monkey- boot camp, I YouTubed it on over to a more advanced yoga workout. Why? I don’t know… motivation or some shit. Still keeping under the 30 minute timer because honestly, I used to workout two hours a day; sometimes three. But you’re not now so zip it. And while I do love working out… It’s just too stinking hot out and I’ve got so much on my plate momentarily to dump that much time in the gym right now. Are those excuses? Hush. I tried to do the Courtney Bell workouts above a second week in a row, but honestly, I was bored and it was moving too slow for me now that my body has awakened from its hibernation. *yawn* So I found another lady and she’s kicking my ass. Gluterific. What I love about these online yoga workouts -they’re cheesy? No. What I love is that I can target muscle groups and difficulty level to meet my goals a little more efficiently than just winging it on my own at the sweaty weirdo chopping blockatorium that my building has to offer. All in all, I’m not dishing out sixty bones a month (or more) for a gym membership either. That’s pedicure money! And regardless of where I get my stinky workouts on? I’ll be supercharging my bootiliciousness, and the next hottie eyeballing me, will not hesitiate to ask if I want to pet the giraffe in his pocket…

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humor, Uncategorized

Pajamma Mamma

Pretty sure this is the jammies trying to kill me… #diaperfabulous

I tend to travel light. I bring as little as possible. Mostly because I know I will be buying crap I don’t need and want to bring back. Shoved and crammed into my suitcase. And for the simple fact that paying for luggage after paying an arm and a leg to travel already is not on my list of favorite things. Which brings me to my pajammas. Or, my mamma’s pajammas.

pickle-grande feet peek

I didn’t bring any sleepy time wear on our trip, so I borrowed. No biggie. If I were alone, I’d sleep in the buff. But, I’m not alone. And buff-sleeping isn’t probable. Sigh. Bummery.  Now, since I’m not one to complain -*cough, ha ha, what… I had a tickle in my throat- I realize that out of all of the options of nighties, I chose the pair that wants to jump off my body. Literally. When I’m walking around the house. The jammies want to dive off me to the floor. When I’m sleeping, the cozy creepy sleepies tries to strangle me in my sleep. Yes, over my head. They only get about diaper fabulous; But, they try. They try hard. When I go to tinkle, my fuzzy pant legs get twisted up. I think they’re trying to escape down the toilet. Or the booby hatch. Either way, these damn jammies don’t want to stay on my mammy fanny.
Moral of the story, folks? Bring pajammas when you travel. Or at the very least, some underwear. And not of the granny-panty variety either. Otherwise you could end up swimming upstream a pair of flood pants. Too big for you. And too pickle-grande for your mammy.

 

humor, Uncategorized

Books Or Boobs 

Geek This.
Geek This.

Getting your teenage boy to read is like wrangling a piranha off of an underwater  basket weaver. I get it. He’s got a hectic schedule. Pretty intensive. In between dirty cleats and his obsession with pork chops, I’ve got some pretty tough competition.

The funny thing is, he used to read all the time. Remember ‘Diary of A Wimpy Kid?’ He loved those! We waited in line for our pre-orders on that series. Until he got too old for them. Sigh. It’s the discovery of Santa Claus isn’t real… all over again. *sniff sniff.  I don’t know if now, as a teen, he thinks it’s too girly or whatnot; But, I’ve got fix it. I’m a reader. Nerd. Ever since I was a kid. #nerdlife My mom had bookcases the size of living rooms and I would zoom through them all. Yes, I’ve always been the coolest geek on the planet, don’t hate. I’ll just *cup my ear and wait to hear your praises. No? Ok. Dammit. Moving on then…  So, I was reading online about how to get my man-child to read more and they say NOT to discourage ANY type of reading. Comic books, magazines, and periodicals- however small- encourage literacy. Is that so? Oopsie. I may have not, directly, told my kid NO, to comics… But, it’s possible those “reading materials” could have gotten lost in one of our many relocating, uh moving, situations. Possibly. Or a random possum ran by the window, grabbed them and ate them. Possibly…  I’m just not a fan of comic books. AT. ALL. Pictures with a few bubbled “Bam! Ping! Pow’s?”  I just never considered that as, quality, storybook reading. Love the artwork though! That being said,  my little monkey has always liked to read comic books. In Japanese, no less. And, today he even watches television with Japanese subtitles instead of english; But, I just want him to read a book. Some James Patterson with your lemonade, sir? No, mom. Maybe I should get a book, written or translated to Japanese? Now, you’re getting it, mom.

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#booklife

All the websites dedicated to helping to get your boys to read more all agree on one thing. Find something the kid likes and run with it. If he likes history, grab a book on that. If he likes sports, try an athlete’s autobiography. If his teenage hormornes are spiraling out of control, try a book with boobs on it. Wait. What? Ok, none of those websites mentioned that; But, it wouldn’t be that far fetched, you know. What about Wired Magazine? Architectural Digest? Science and Technology? That’s informative. Sure, but maybe not for yours, or my, teenager. I’m not saying to grab your hearty, all-american boy, some porn by any means. No, no, no. I’m just saying to consider slapping some boobs on a couple of those pages and he won’t stop reading!