Yes, the fragrance is… lovely…

I bought a new deodorant by Lady Speed Stick called Orchard Blossom. I had a coupon so I figured I’d live life on the edge and try something different than my usual Baby Powder.

I put the stuff on the other day and immediately noticed it made me smell like a life size green apple Jolly Rancher.

I like to eat Jolly Ranchers… not smell like them.

Chris comes in to give me a hug and says, ‘You smell really good!’

Uh. Thanks?

The rest of the day everyone kept telling me how lovely I smelled which sounds nice but instead actually presented a very big problem…

HOW ON EARTH I AM SUPPOSED TO SAY THAT THE COMPLIMENTED FRAGRANCE IS ORIGINATING FROM MY ARMPITS?!?!

I can either say, ‘Why yes, I do smell lovely. What perfume? It’s Eau De Pit’ in my best French accent or I can just throw the darn thing away and buy a new baby powder deodorant.

So much for my life on the wild side.




I am TOTALLY excited about tomorrow. Chris and I are going to the San Diego Fair on… Taste of the Fair Tuesday. Vendors, who usually charge $8 for a 3 oz. glass of ice water, take a break from the price hikes and offer special $2 tasters on Tuesdays. Below is a listing of what I’m trying.

http://www.sdfair.com/fair/pdf/08concessions_taste_fair.pdf

Yes. I know that list is every vendor in the fair but… it’s only once a year. I can eat what I want right? Kinda like how I eat on, Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving and Labor Day and Groundhog Day and New Years Day and Veterans Day and Flag Day and the Queens Birthday and Kwanza and … maybe it’d be faster to name days I don’t celebrate with unhealthy amounts of food.



I’m going prepared. I’ll have more dollar bills in my pocket than a stripper in Las Vegas.

Monkey What?!?

When I bought my bike, I glanced at the padded shorts that lined the bike shop walls and thought, ‘What kind of idiot wears those stupid ugly shorts?’

After riding 6 ½ miles and being unable to sit the following day…

I am going to become that kind of idiot.

Don’t feel bad for me. I was warned. My brother in law emphasized the importance of good biking shorts to prevent… ‘Monkey Butt’… but I laughed it off. COME ON! YOU WOULD TOO!

Sorry A.


Yesterday, I confidently walked into the shorts section of the bike shop and unabashedly groped every pair of bike shorts to find the absolute thickest padding. I settled on a pair of gel padded shorts and a pair of foam padded shorts.

Last night, I happily threw on the gel shorts then turned around to face the mirror… oh my.

What I failed to mention is the fact that the gel shorts have holes in the gel padding to provide a breathable surface. These holes create dozens of indentations across the back. Not only did I look like I was carrying a load in my shorts, it looked like I suffered from a severe case of cottage cheese butt.

I thought the point of cycling was to REDUCE the appearance of lumps and bumps on my butt!

Chris had a study buddy over last night. I hope he didn’t think it odd that I walked around backward with my hands ‘casually’ draped over my lower half. I’d rather he think I was odd than think I had an incontinence problem.

AND… after a 9 mile ride my bottom STILL HURT!

I came home and figured that next time; I’d just wear two pairs of shorts. I threw the foam padded pair over my poofy cottage cheese looking pair and…

Great. Now I look like I could star center stage in Sir Mix-A-Lot’s ‘Baby Got Back’ video.

Oh, and if you see me walking today please don’t laugh. I’m trying to make this ‘OUCH!’, scoot, drag, way of walking look trendy.



Just please don’t ask me to sit down.

I’ve had it with Amazon!

I went on Amazon.com yesterday to purchase a bag for my bike. I’d like to take my cell phone and an emergency tire kit with me when I ride.

I logged in, looked around for a minute and decided on a cute $6 black bag. Easy right? Except Amazon.com has an awful feature that says, ‘Customers who bought this item also purchased these items’ and then displays pictures of the items.

…A Bicycle Cable Lock

Uh, I guess I need that. I don’t want my bike stolen. And I stuck it in my online cart.

…A Planet Blinky Light Set

Well, if I bike near dusk, I need to be safe. Sure, I need that too. In the cart it goes.

… A Schwinn Bike Computer

I really need to know many calories I’ve burned, the speed I’m traveling at, the distance I’ve gone, and the temperature in Singapore.

… A StowAway Bicycle Seat Bag

One in front is nice but two is always better

…A 115 Decibel Bike Airhorn

My greatest goal in life is to burn out a horn in my car and now Amazon is telling me that I can be just as obnoxious, annoying, and horn crazy on a bike? I am soooo disappointed with myself. Had I looked into this earlier, I would have started biking YEARS ago.

I kept clicking and Amazon kept suggesting items I simply couldn’t live without. Given enough time, the front of my bike would look like the cockpit on a 747.

Then Amazon said, ‘Customers who purchased your item also purchased… a bike motor.’

Well yeah! That’s because we now have 75 extra pounds of accessories! How else are we supposed to get around?


Frustrated, I clicked ‘Checkout’

Let’s see. Bike $150. Accessories $285.


Realizing I had approached dangerous territory for my Visa… I deleted the cart.

I’m hanging a grocery bag from my handles.

My and my big mouth…

Last week I did something silly. I wrote about San Diego’s perfect weather.

I should have kept my mouth shut because… I jinxed San Diego.

We’ve had a horrible heat wave since Thursday. On Saturday, Santee hit 107 degrees and to ice the cake, our central AC went out. I don’t know about you but when hot weather hits, I swell up like a hot dog on a BBQ. I’ve had to use a shoe horn just to get my jeans on for the last 5 days.


Chris threw a ‘surprise’ birthday party for me on Saturday. I say ‘surprise’ because it wasn’t really a surprise. I’m pretty good at figuring things out but frankly, I didn’t need to exercise a whole lot of brain cells when my friend Katie e-mailed me last Tuesday to say she was bringing a friend to my party.

‘I’m having a party?’ I responded.

‘Uhhhh.’ was her reply.

Doesn’t take a genius to add things up.

Of course, I’m not sure if 20 people hovered around an overworked wall AC unit counts as a party – because that’s what happened. But we figured the perfectly blended Mudslides and the never ending game of Quelf counted.



I bought a bicycle last night. With gas prices the way they are I figured I’d save money and bike more.

My work is 8.3 miles from my home and as daunting as that sounds to me, I think I can do it. I was thinking that I could do marathons, those bike race thingies, or Ironman whatever but then I discovered that the Tour de France is 2,100 miles.

I have a feeling Lance Armstrong isn’t going to be calling me to be his workout buddy anytime in the near future.

I don’t want him to call me anyway. He might make special requirements on my food intake. I’ll have him know that I go above and beyond in the fat, sodium, and sugar categories. Well, technically I go above and beyond the daily recommended value of fat, sugar, and sodium but I hardly find that necessary to mention.



They say you can never forget how to ride a bike.

It’s been 15 years since my last bike ride. After my bike test rides last night, ‘they’ need to stop saying that.

I need a new pair of shorts…

And a band aid… or maybe a band aid with giant patch of gauze… and Neosporin.

Don’t mess with my method!

As you all know, I frequent my local library almost as much as I frequent Taco Bell. Over the last 3 or 4 years, I’ve used the useful online reserve system. I select a book, movie, or CD from the San Diego database and have it sent to my local library.

But of course, the obsessive compulsive gal in me has a certain way of ordering.

For example, if I were to order something embarrassing and silly like… the soundtrack to Hairspray… I will also order two respectable items like, ‘Tuesdays With Morrie’ and ‘Capote’. That way, I can escape the judgmental eyes of the snooty literary folks by sandwiching the embarrassing item between the two respectable ones. Our library has the automated checkout machine so with my perfect method, I had yet to be caught red handed with say.. Over the Top or Rocky 5.

It’s like when you have to buy feminine products. You don’t go and just grab a box, you fill the cart with 72 other items, hide the tampons on the bottom, and then search the checkout lines for a female checker who will understand your plight.

Wait. Is that just me?

Anyway, my method WAS perfect, until there started to be problems with the scanners on the automated machines. I scanned respectable item #1, respectable item #2, and went to scan my embarrassing silly item and…

BEEEEEEP. The machine shrieked in error.

‘Oh no. Please, please, please, PLEASE, no. Don’t do this to me. Not in rush hour!’ I shouted in my head. And yes, the library has a rush hour.

I try to scan it again… and again… and again. Each time, the machine beeped loudly at me.

The librarian leaned over from her long line and asked if I was having problems with the CD. I nodded.

Oh geez.

‘Which CD is it?’ She asked.

‘Spice Girls Greatest Hits.’ I answer meekly.

She stared and then quietly hand typed the number to check me out. She was pretty good at holding her laughter until after I exited the building.


Just because I enjoy the vocal stylings of Posh, Baby, Sporty, Scary, and Ginger Spice, doesn’t mean I have bad taste!

Well…

I’m just hoping the machines will be fixed by the time I get my George Michael CD.

‘…'Cause I gotta have faith...f-f-f-faith f-f-faith.’

You are sick… very, very sick… and twisted.

Thank you all for the birthday wishes. I had a fabulous birthday yesterday. I didn’t go to the gym which was a gift completely in itself.

Chris bought me a treadmill for my birthday (I begged for it) but before you think we’re uber rich (because I know you think we are with our fabulous hotel, I mean, MOTEL 6 stays), it was from Walmart.

It wasn’t Chris’ first choice but the miser in me demanded it.

Chris took me to Donavan’s in Downtown San Diego for dinner. Despite the creepiness of the servers in full blown tuxes, it’s the new hot spot. They serve the best Filet Mignon... ever. We had a really, really great time. Thanks hon.

I snuggled in bed last night and thought, ‘What a great day.’

Then…

Today came.

Chris shook me awake saying, ‘Babe, it’s time to wake up. I let you sleep in this morning.’

I rolled over and looked at my clock. 4:47 AM.

Then I may have yelled something to the effect of:

‘What kind of JACKED UP planet do you come from where 4:50 AM is sleeping in?!?!?!?!’

OK, that’s exactly what I said. I’m not exactly ‘people friendly’ in the morning.

Then, we finally get to the gym and I hop on the treadmill. I went through the steps to turn the darn thing on and the word ‘AGE’ pops up on the screen. I just about cried as I typed my new number…

2 – 8

You know what?

I hate birthdays.

Yeah I remember… the cheese sandwich…

My whole life I’ve been told that muscles have memory. If a person repeats motions over and over again, the muscles ‘remember’ and perform the task more efficiently and almost automatically.

My sister Liz and I worked out at the gym regularly from the ages of 17 to about 22 and after she moved away, I joined my college soccer team where I ran tough drills on a twice daily basis. Once my soccer days were over – cough – I mean, once my bench warming days were over, I moved to LA and continued working out for a hour a day 4 – 5 days a week.

I was in college, I had to look good in my swimsuit for hot tubbing… Havasu River trips and… Vegas.


To be honest, I’ve taken a year or two off… or three or four… from working out but according to this muscle memory garbage, I should be good to go.

I’ve been working out for three weeks now and the only things my muscles seem to be remembering are my collegiate daily pizza runs and my affinity for Burger King crispy chicken sandwiches dipped in Ranch dressing.

Dang it.



In an effort to get my amnesia ridden muscles back with the program, I’ve been going for some power walks with the occasional *gasp* jog uphill.

My muscles have been remembering little things like…

if I workout that hard, I can’t walk the next day.

Jerks.



I won’t go on a walk unless someone is at the house to notice I’m missing before my murdered body starts to decompose. A couple days ago, I asked my new roomie Zach and his girlfriend Beth to come out and look for me if I were gone for more than an hour and a half.

I returned to the house an hour and 15 minutes later sweaty, stinky, and wore out. They greeted me with statements like:

‘Wow! That’s dedication!’ and ‘What a work out!’

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I was neither dedicated nor was I trying for a good work out…

But thanks to a large neighborhood of identical tract homes…

I simply got lost and it took me 40 minutes to find my way back.

Temecula… bed bug country…

Chris and I attended a wedding in Temecula this weekend. I like Temecula… wait… I LOVE Temecula… in the Winter, Spring, and Fall. Temecula in the summer is another story.

I pay an exorbitant cost of living to reside in San Diego because 11 ½ months of the year, the weather hovers at 72 degrees with puffy white clouded skies.

Hello?!??! I melt like a cheap Hershey bar when the mercury crosses 80.

You can imagine my *excitement* at the prospect of sitting at an outdoor wedding… in the desert… in June.


Since Temecula is an hour and a half North, Chris asked if I could find an inexpensive hotel room so we could stay overnight. Thank you Chris’ friends for getting married on a) a holiday weekend, b) a Temecula wine celebration weekend, and c) the weekend of the US Open. The closest non-booked hotel room under $400 a night was in Mississippi.

I searched for hours and found surprisingly (or not surprisingly) the only open room under $100… at the Motel 6. As you probably remember from the apparent blood stained mattress I slept on in Santa Rosa, I’m not exactly what others would call ‘high class.’ Sure I’d like to stay at the Ritz in every city but I enjoy paying my bills in a timely fashion so I stay where I can afford.

I checked the reviews for the place in my travel bible, tripadvisor.com from which I bring you this fabulous story:

We stayed one night at this hotel and woke up at 4am to loud thumping music above our room. We turned on the lights to call the manager and as soon as the lights came on we saw reddish brown bugs crawling across the sheets!!!! aggghhhhh... we jumped out of bed and saw more on the pillow cases and on top of the comforters......infested!! I jumped in the shower and my husband continued to search and he also found a tick and some other kind of bugs crawling around on the other bed!!!!! About 10 days later my arms are covered in bites and I keep hoping we didn't bring anything home with us!!!

Rather than cancel the reservation… I packed a thick blanket to sleep on.

My only goal was to escape the motel free from head lice and any sort of flesh eating disease. Lack of bed bugs would have simply been icing on the cake.


When we arrived at the place we were greeted by a Ford Mustang with stickers advertising Pole Dancing Lessons. Upon entering our smoke flavored 'non-smoking' room, I stumbled upon an ashtray with a no-smoking sign on it. And we stayed anyway. I’m a little itchy today….


The wedding was fabulous, hot, but fabulous.

Congrats to the bride and groom. You guys were absolutely beautiful.

Happy Birthday Stef!!

I hope your birthday was FANTASTIC! You are a fabulous mother to my neices, a wonderful wife to my brother, and more than we have ever wanted or hoped for in a sister in law. We wish you the very best!

* and yes, I stole the picture from Lizard.

I’m not an alcoholic…but I play one on TV

Beth came over last night to bring our new roommate, Zach, a new 37” HDTV for his birthday.

My birthday is coming up next week so I was sure to say to Chris, ‘Wow hon, isn’t that nice of Beth to give Zach such an expensive gift? And they are only dating… we’re married. Hmm. I wonder what you’ll get for me.’

OK, so I have no huge aspirations for expensive gifts… I’m just hoping he’ll forgive me for ordering a pricey pressure cooker off the Home Shopping Network while he was slaving away at work on Saturday. I should have ‘HSN Cooks’ permanently blocked from our cable box. If it steams, bakes, toasts, or is the daily special, I’m too tempted.

The cooker is supposed to be delivered today so I’m going to beat him home and write ‘Happy Birthday Sweetheart! Love, Auntie Edna’ on the box.

Nope. I don’t have an Auntie Edna but it’ll buy me time. Birthdays are Get Out of Jail Free days so I’ll pony up the truth then.

Perhaps I shouldn’t mention that we signed up for a marriage class that starts this Friday. I figured I’d do as much damage as possible before I am forced to be a proper wife.

Hey now! Don’t judge! It’s like eating a chocolate cake before dieting. Everyone does it.



Beth and I shared two bottles of wine after dinner. Well, I guess technically we didn’t share since we each had our own bottle.

ANYWAY, as I was downing my chilled Viognier, I read a fascinating article in my Fitness magazine (I subscribe to Fitness magazine and display it on our living room table so that when guests come over and see it, they think, ‘Oh poor dear, she’s desperately trying to lose that butt pudge but it must but genetic’ and not link it to the real culprits… Ding Dongs and laziness). I can’t find the online version but this is pretty much the same thing:

http://www.saga.co.uk/health/healthyliving/mindmatters/WineMentalDecline.asp

Beth and I both agreed… we’re not alcoholics… we’re fighting dementia.

We can just ignore that silly little reference to *drinking in moderation*.

OK, OK, truth be told, the bottles were half empty to start with (mom, you can delete that frantic letter to grandma)


But hey, I’m guessing this lady drank quite a bit of wine.

http://news.aol.com/health/story/ar/_a/115-year-olds-brain-in-top-shape/20080610100309990001?icid=100214839x1203853534x1200154160


Cheers!

What planet are you from?!?!?

Chris and I won tickets for a preview showing of the new Hulk movie…but before describing that experience, I find it necessary to mention three things.

1.) Because of the high cost of housing, San Diego is densely populated by the ‘Intensely creative/experimental/artistic 30 year old who still lives with his or her mother’ crowd.

2.) They were all at last night’s showing.

And

3.) This BLOG is not in any way intended to insult the Comic-Con fans… I understand I am not at the pinnacle of coolness – after all, I do own and regularly use my library card and up until last year, I lived with my mother.



Chris left me in the movie line while he ran off to find us some dinner.

The guys behind me were involved in a heated discussion about Liv Tyler’s first movie role. The loudest of the group kept accidentally poking me with the disheveled items protruding from his fanny pack… or at least that’s what I hope was poking me with…


It wasn’t until halfway through their debate about how many times you can use the words, San Diego Comic-Con, in a sentence before it becomes grammatically incorrect that I realized…

I had to write this entertaining conversation down.

So I pulled out a pen and paper and discretely began taking notes.

Among my favorites…

They referred to the Lord of the Rings 62 times. Seriously, I started getting writers cramp from making the hash marks.


They argued that the laws of physics shouldn’t be broken in a movie unless it’s somewhat believable… like ‘the force’. The Force is believable?!?!?


They ‘did a little Wikipedia research’ about Ed Norton before coming to the show. Who knew he spoke Japanese?


They played a round robin game of movie trivia. Most of the answers I didn’t know… and I’m an honor grad… with a Bachelor’s in Film. Shoot.


And, they all met in an online gaming chat room. Uhhh.




As Chris arrived with our pizza, I stashed the notes in my purse before he could catch me red handedly being nosy, and I happily ate the greasy goodness. While he ate, he stared off into the distance and I realized he was as fascinated with the crowd as I was. Suddenly he asked, ‘Would you like me to hold your pizza while you get your pen?’

‘For what?’ I asked.

‘To take notes for your BLOG’ he said seriously.

I am too predictable.

Sorry…

My updates have been few and far between lately. The last few weeks have been a bit hectic. I’ll be back in the swing of things this week.

This weekend was a long one.

Chris graduated…

Jeremy graduated…

Casey graduated…

Josh graduated…

And…

Kelli had a birthday.

Words escape me today so here are some photos instead.

Oh, and mommy dearest, we were not drinking celebratory Patron Silver shots – we simply all had very small water glasses.

Ohhh brothers…

I’ve got three brothers. Three brothers who spent their lives embarrassing me. Well, James doesn’t count. I think I embarrassed him WAY more than he embarrassed me.

Like the time James bought me a Strawberry Daiquiri at Dick’s Last Resort for my 21st birthday.

I asked the server to take it back because it was too strong.

The server ripped it out of my hands, drank a sip, slammed it back on the table, said ‘No it’s not’, and then promptly walked away.

I listened as James told everyone he was my ‘Handler’ and was paid to watch me.



OK, so maybe it was only John and Mike who embarrassed me – and I thought it would stop when they were older.

I was wrong.

Yesterday I washed all my…unmentionables. I usually set them on my bed to dry under the ceiling fan but I was in the middle of making my bed so I set them across my desk (makes you think twice before asking to use my internet doesn’t it?). I guess that would have been fine… if Mike hadn’t come home… and used the internet…with one of his friends.

Mike simply picked up the stack and moved them onto my bed – and no, he didn’t attempt to cover them up but he assured me his friend didn’t notice them.

Sure his little buddy didn’t notice the stack of 20 or so girlie underoos.

Dude, it’s kinda hard to miss the florescent pink polka dots.

I guess I could have recovered but we all went to the Padre game last night and Mike brought his little friend along. All I could think was, ‘That guy has a pretty good idea of what I’m wearing. Eww!’


I guess I can be grateful; after all, it wasn’t my ‘other’ underwear. I’ve got some undergarments that make Granny Panties look risqué.

Thanks mom, those Christmas gifts are fantastic by the way.



Padres lost last night. Surprise. Riiiight. But San Diego has a beautiful ballpark and it’s always a fun place to be win, or… lose frequently.

Stupid Cubs.












Also, we played Quelf for the first time this weekend. All I have to say is, if you want to play the weirdest game of your life, play Quelf.

An example of the tasks?

Casey did a rain dance, Kelli had to build a fort with blankets, Mike had to clap three times and say ‘Abracadra’ each turn, I had to say ‘Word’ when I agreed with someone, Chris had to wear the game box under his shirt and shuffle his feet, Beth had to be the game waitress and serve everyone, and Zach had to get tickled.

CAN YOU PLEASE STOP THIS BUS!!!!...

A friend of mine invited me to attend a showing of Wicked at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood. She had purchased the tickets through an employee event at our local – and very successful - utility company and they were taking luxury busses up to LA for the show. I decided to go for two reasons:

1. Shows at the Pantages Theater are unforgettable
2. I thought it prudent to network with the rich and famous in the event I find myself jobless in a few months.

I arrive at my friend’s house and hop in the backseat of the car with her family. Not 30 minutes into the car ride, I find myself… completely and totally car sick.

Hoping for the best, we arrive at the bus stop where I was granted a front seat – much to the dismay of the bus driver. I think he wanted a little more space between him and my little green face.

27 ½ minutes into the bus ride… I can no longer hold my… my…uh… ‘excitement’ and make a run for the bathroom. Just my luck, the bus driver had removed the door handle because he didn’t want anyone to use the bathroom. A kind gentleman, seeing my state, quickly ran to the front of the bus in search of a door handle. Heads peeked around the chairs to look at me – most likely calculating their odds of being in the ‘splash zone’.

Top 3 signs that I was more than merely sick:

1. When the friendly gent went to find the door handle, I sat with my head on my knees on the dirty floor of the bus and didn’t think of germs. I was also wearing a skirt – fortunately with shorts underneath (See! I told you that would come in handy one day!)

2. After finally getting into the bathroom, the only thing that separated my arms from the nasty toilet seat was a solitary sheet of single ply toilet paper… and I didn’t care (I showered in Clorox upon returning home).

3. There was a cockroach in the toilet and on the floor and I said, “Hello” instead of screaming (Screaming took too much energy)

20 minutes after returning to my seat, I realized I could not finish the trip and begged the driver to let me off the bus. In his excitement (or bad judgment) to rid himself of the retching red headed mess, he exited freeway in San Clemente and turned the bus into oncoming traffic.

Terrified, he sat unmoving in the middle of the busy lanes.

This would have been a good time to pull out my trusty camera and photograph the last images I would ever see before dying but… bending to reach for my purse caused such violent heaving I simply said, ‘Oh Geez!’ and braced for impact.

The cars swerved around us like a fast moving river current. Meanwhile, all I could think was, ‘Damn my front window view’.

Three stoplights facing oncoming traffic later, the bus driver snapped out of his funk and drove over the concrete median (scraping the bottom of the bus causing the metal/concrete grinding to scream… wait… I think that may have been the passengers screaming. I was too busy heaving to notice the difference).

I was dropped off in a half deserted Sears Outlet parking lot but I could tell there were a few other passengers tempted to join me based on the bus driver’s recent performance.

In Sears, I volleyed between the chairs in the shoe department and the women’s restroom for the better part of an hour until Mike arrived to pick me up.

Needless to say:
A.) I won’t be riding on a bus in the near future.
B.) I wasn’t very successful in networking.