Hi,
Another day. Another day. This morning I got totally motivated and ran like 4.5 miles. Now, there is a small cramp monster in my right calf who keeps stabbing my muscle every time I move one of my toes or my foot (Think of taking a fork and lightly pushing it into your forehead. Now, JAB IT and turn clockwise..that's what my calf feels like). I recently read an "advice on blogging" column. The man told me my blog needed purpose, and it needed to help the reader learn something he or she didn't previously know. So for this blog, your words of wisdom are...this is huge people; you may need to read it twice...STRETCH YOUR LEGS BEFORE RUNNING 4.5 MILES. I was sort of stretching but then "Party in the USA" came on my Ipod. I just got so pumped up I had to start running. Therefore, to please Mr. Iknowsomuchaboutbloggingthatiwriteablogabouthowtowriteblogs, my miscue on stretching and my recording of this miscue in my blog will teach my reader that he or she NEEDS to stretch no matter how much Miley is encouraging him or her to run.
While on my run, I ended up at the track at my local football field. There was already a woman at the track and she was doing tricep dips on the bleachers. I have always been mesmerized by these "circuit training" individuals. When I run, I just like to run. If I tried to get my body to work out more than one thing at once, it would just get angry, protest against my idea, and I would be collapsed in front of the bleachers in a sweaty pile of limbs. Anyways, I assume from a distance that this woman is around my age..maybe a little older or younger. Turns out, she was my mom! Kidding, my mom was at home making brownies. But, this woman was old enough to be my mom. She is, most likely, a mom herself. At that moment, I realize she is crazy. When I am a mom, I'm not going to work my triceps on bleachers, and I sure as heck will not be running 4.5 miles. I plan on getting my workouts by bending down to yell at my children when they yell obscenities (do you really think I'm going to be able to have a clean mouth around my kids ALL the time? Accidents happen), running towards my children when they are trying to put Froot Loops covered in ant poisoning in their mouths (true story, mom had to call poison control. We had an ant problem and a hungry brother), and lifting them so high that they think the fan is going to chop their heads off (I had a really tall uncle). Don't get my wrong, this woman was legit, and I totally respect her for keeping her body in tip top shape. But I will NOT be doing the boring exercises I do when I am old....so my other tip for you readers (2 for the price of 1 today): work your triceps while you are young because people will judge you if you do it when you're older.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
I Almost Cut My Hair Into A Mohawk Today
HIYA FRIENDS!
Confession: I really didn't almost cut my hair into a mohawk today. To be quite frank, the thought didn't even cross my mind. But, it got you to read. So now that you're here, you might as well stay a while.
Without a people associated job, life becomes quite slow. I have gotten myself stuck in a rut. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm not angry. I'm just treading water (in the shallow end because I can't swim very well). Anyways, the one thing that still sort of keeps me going is working out. Recently (because of my rut), I have been eating like Paula Deen at a butter convention. So the need to work out burns in the very depths of my gut; well that's probably just indigestion, but it gets me to workout so we'll leave it at that.
No..no we won't leave that point. Today, I went to work out in the afternoon at the Y. The 4th of July meant 1 thing for me: GO CRAZY IN THE FOOD DEPARTMENT. I baked a jello cake, some brownie/peanut butter/ marshmallow fluff concoction, and 2 batches of "There Has To Be A God Because These Are Too Delicious To Come From Anywhere Else" brownies. I also pleaded with my mother to make me baked beans. My relationship with baked beans is like the summer fling you have in Cancun. I have them in front of me, and they look SOOO GOOD! On impulse, you absolutely devour the object in front of you. But once you're done with it, you realize they did much more harm than good; AND YET, you go back to them every year (but only once a year because they do WAY TOO MUCH DAMAGE to have more than once).
So today, my poor body was processing all the above listed desserts, a serving size of baked beans that literally paid for 12 bean farmers' children to attend college (and med school), a veggie burger loaded with onions and cheese, ummm baked chips, macaroni and cheese, o gosh I'm getting nauseated...you get the picture.
With all the food in my mind, I thought today was a good day to KICK MY OWN BUTT! I went to the Y at an odd time in hopes there would be no one there (in the event my stupid stomach decided to actually digest something for a change). There were only a few people there and no one around me on the elliptical. I didn't go crazy because there is always the threat of the "I Just Farted And It's Lingering And The Girl Who Always Made Fun Of Me In High School Is Coming Right At Me" fart, but I made sure my stomach wasn't cramping..this is TMI and I know I will never become president because I'm putting this personal information on the internet.
When I went to the treadmill, however, there was someone beside me. I just wanted to jog out a mile...just to burn some extra calories, so I wasn't too worried. Letting my guard down was a MISTAKE. We'll just say that it would have been more pleasant for the woman beside me to smell my gym shoe filled with cheese and gasoline. So I hurriedly stopped the treadmill, and like a good gym rat, I went to clean the treadmill. Guess who only "paused" the treadmill and didn't bring it to a complete stop? THIS GIRL! Not only had the woman found out the worst my body could do, but she also watched me step of a treadmill that was still slightly moving. After a small fall and a "WOAH", I bid goodbye to the poor woman and went on my merry way (I most definitely did not bid goodbye...I put my head down and kicked myself for wearing a shirt with my last name on it). I hope I never see baked beans again.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Confession: I really didn't almost cut my hair into a mohawk today. To be quite frank, the thought didn't even cross my mind. But, it got you to read. So now that you're here, you might as well stay a while.
Without a people associated job, life becomes quite slow. I have gotten myself stuck in a rut. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm not angry. I'm just treading water (in the shallow end because I can't swim very well). Anyways, the one thing that still sort of keeps me going is working out. Recently (because of my rut), I have been eating like Paula Deen at a butter convention. So the need to work out burns in the very depths of my gut; well that's probably just indigestion, but it gets me to workout so we'll leave it at that.
No..no we won't leave that point. Today, I went to work out in the afternoon at the Y. The 4th of July meant 1 thing for me: GO CRAZY IN THE FOOD DEPARTMENT. I baked a jello cake, some brownie/peanut butter/ marshmallow fluff concoction, and 2 batches of "There Has To Be A God Because These Are Too Delicious To Come From Anywhere Else" brownies. I also pleaded with my mother to make me baked beans. My relationship with baked beans is like the summer fling you have in Cancun. I have them in front of me, and they look SOOO GOOD! On impulse, you absolutely devour the object in front of you. But once you're done with it, you realize they did much more harm than good; AND YET, you go back to them every year (but only once a year because they do WAY TOO MUCH DAMAGE to have more than once).
So today, my poor body was processing all the above listed desserts, a serving size of baked beans that literally paid for 12 bean farmers' children to attend college (and med school), a veggie burger loaded with onions and cheese, ummm baked chips, macaroni and cheese, o gosh I'm getting nauseated...you get the picture.
With all the food in my mind, I thought today was a good day to KICK MY OWN BUTT! I went to the Y at an odd time in hopes there would be no one there (in the event my stupid stomach decided to actually digest something for a change). There were only a few people there and no one around me on the elliptical. I didn't go crazy because there is always the threat of the "I Just Farted And It's Lingering And The Girl Who Always Made Fun Of Me In High School Is Coming Right At Me" fart, but I made sure my stomach wasn't cramping..this is TMI and I know I will never become president because I'm putting this personal information on the internet.
When I went to the treadmill, however, there was someone beside me. I just wanted to jog out a mile...just to burn some extra calories, so I wasn't too worried. Letting my guard down was a MISTAKE. We'll just say that it would have been more pleasant for the woman beside me to smell my gym shoe filled with cheese and gasoline. So I hurriedly stopped the treadmill, and like a good gym rat, I went to clean the treadmill. Guess who only "paused" the treadmill and didn't bring it to a complete stop? THIS GIRL! Not only had the woman found out the worst my body could do, but she also watched me step of a treadmill that was still slightly moving. After a small fall and a "WOAH", I bid goodbye to the poor woman and went on my merry way (I most definitely did not bid goodbye...I put my head down and kicked myself for wearing a shirt with my last name on it). I hope I never see baked beans again.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, July 3, 2011
My Blog is Like A Foot...You Forget It's There; You Give It No Attention...THEN IT FREAKING STINKS!
Hello Everyone,
It's been a while again. I apologize...I decided to become everyone's everything this summer and haven't had a gosh darn moment to myself in ages. So, I'm turning a new page today and trying to be a blogger again - because my brain is becoming overloaded with Emily footnotes to life.
First of all, I want to have a quick discussion about time. So we all know that when I want time, finding it is like looking for Waldo in the student section of a Ohio State football game. But when you don't want time...say like when someone gets a sub toasted and you have to stand in front of them like a visor wearing lawn gnome for 35 seconds...it makes itself very painfully present. Here's an exercise: Go to the stopwatch in your phone, start it, wait thirty five seconds..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Alright, now imagine how that would have felt if you would have been standing in front of a total stranger both of you locked in an "I'm Really Trying to Think of Something to Say But All I Can Think About Is How Weird Your Eyebrows Are" stare.
That's my life, and for that reason, I am resigning as a sandwich artist. Okay, okay, it's not just because of that; however, I will be ending my tenure at Subway tomorrow. I have found a different job..or two..or three, so I will be leaving the mayo slinging and bread slicing to the rest of my colleagues. HOLLA AT MY PEOPLE!
On a brighter note, my grandma is finally getting situated at the nursing home. She is totally pumped about being at ICHAWYSU (short for "I Can't Hear A Word You're Saying University" and known by most as The Gardens Nursing home, but I renamed it. Because if I got a quarter for every time I heard "HUH? You went to church for cheese and rice?", I would have enough money to buy my grandma bumpers for her electric wheel chair so she stops putting holes in the wall and getting charged for damages).
Anyways, grandma actually loves the place. She had a few best friends (one of which she has been friends with since she was 3). They talk smack about everyone else in their nursing home (which I'm not sure what exactly this "smack" is because Lord knows none of them can do the things most people who get talked "smack" about do..if you know what I'm saying. But, I do know Stella cheats at bingo and Martin hides some of his dinner in his knapsack because he's "backwards" - I would be more worried about Stella and Martin seeing this if the font was 72 but it's not so we don't need to worry).
I was reading through the newsletter for ICHAWYSU while we took down my grandma's bed yesterday (she sleeps on her chair..she's 80 something. If she wants to sleep in the chair, who are you to judge?! BACK OFF). Turns out July 14th is Nude Day...FORGET LAWRENCE WELK...we're playing Twister! Kidding..I will be avoiding the nursing home at all costs that day.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
It's been a while again. I apologize...I decided to become everyone's everything this summer and haven't had a gosh darn moment to myself in ages. So, I'm turning a new page today and trying to be a blogger again - because my brain is becoming overloaded with Emily footnotes to life.
First of all, I want to have a quick discussion about time. So we all know that when I want time, finding it is like looking for Waldo in the student section of a Ohio State football game. But when you don't want time...say like when someone gets a sub toasted and you have to stand in front of them like a visor wearing lawn gnome for 35 seconds...it makes itself very painfully present. Here's an exercise: Go to the stopwatch in your phone, start it, wait thirty five seconds..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Alright, now imagine how that would have felt if you would have been standing in front of a total stranger both of you locked in an "I'm Really Trying to Think of Something to Say But All I Can Think About Is How Weird Your Eyebrows Are" stare.
That's my life, and for that reason, I am resigning as a sandwich artist. Okay, okay, it's not just because of that; however, I will be ending my tenure at Subway tomorrow. I have found a different job..or two..or three, so I will be leaving the mayo slinging and bread slicing to the rest of my colleagues. HOLLA AT MY PEOPLE!
On a brighter note, my grandma is finally getting situated at the nursing home. She is totally pumped about being at ICHAWYSU (short for "I Can't Hear A Word You're Saying University" and known by most as The Gardens Nursing home, but I renamed it. Because if I got a quarter for every time I heard "HUH? You went to church for cheese and rice?", I would have enough money to buy my grandma bumpers for her electric wheel chair so she stops putting holes in the wall and getting charged for damages).
Anyways, grandma actually loves the place. She had a few best friends (one of which she has been friends with since she was 3). They talk smack about everyone else in their nursing home (which I'm not sure what exactly this "smack" is because Lord knows none of them can do the things most people who get talked "smack" about do..if you know what I'm saying. But, I do know Stella cheats at bingo and Martin hides some of his dinner in his knapsack because he's "backwards" - I would be more worried about Stella and Martin seeing this if the font was 72 but it's not so we don't need to worry).
I was reading through the newsletter for ICHAWYSU while we took down my grandma's bed yesterday (she sleeps on her chair..she's 80 something. If she wants to sleep in the chair, who are you to judge?! BACK OFF). Turns out July 14th is Nude Day...FORGET LAWRENCE WELK...we're playing Twister! Kidding..I will be avoiding the nursing home at all costs that day.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
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