So yesterday I took the kid to the zoo with a couple of nannies and their respective charges. My charge proceeded to sleep like the dead for most of the afternoon after zoo morning (literally and figuratively). I told his mother, noting, "the zoo wore him out!" Her response? "Are you sure it's not the company?"
Welcome to my friends. I clearly have kind and loving ones. Ha! Although I am tiring, so I guess I can't complain tooooo much... but shhh, we won't tell her that!
I took a walk this morning to clear my head. Apparently I've gone back to not picking up my feet when I walk. We won't discuss how many times I tripped...
Oh and Lauren? My backseat is free and clear now. You can begin breathing again.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
For Lauren...
To my longest term, long distance relationship... i.e. bestie Cali style...
This is for you...
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In case you didn't recognize it... that is my car... with a car seat in it...
Teach you to cheat on me with DSW in SaMo!!!
This is for you...
In case you didn't recognize it... that is my car... with a car seat in it...
Teach you to cheat on me with DSW in SaMo!!!
Irony
The Definition of "Irony": Being UBER hungry and not being allowed to eat
Picture Next to Definition: Morgan Ashley
Picture Next to Definition: Morgan Ashley
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Weight Loss
I have found the ultimate secret to weight loss. Overnight I lost 3.4 pounds. Did I eat crazy weird? Nope. I actually ate crap. Did I workout crazy much? Nope. I actually did nothing. So what did I do?! Cried buckets.
I swear it works! 3.4 pounds. Overnight!
I'm going to patent this and become a multi-billionaire!
I'm going to have a whole program. Starting out with bits of animals dying working up to multiple movies of sob stories. Clearly, chocoalte and the like must not be turned to and a few crunches throughout would be helpful.
But... YES. The answer to all of my problems have been solved. All because the male species have their heads up their asses.
Thank you men!
Now I gotta figure out how to cry every dang day like that. Losing 3 pounds a night would be AWESOME.
I swear it works! 3.4 pounds. Overnight!
I'm going to patent this and become a multi-billionaire!
I'm going to have a whole program. Starting out with bits of animals dying working up to multiple movies of sob stories. Clearly, chocoalte and the like must not be turned to and a few crunches throughout would be helpful.
But... YES. The answer to all of my problems have been solved. All because the male species have their heads up their asses.
Thank you men!
Now I gotta figure out how to cry every dang day like that. Losing 3 pounds a night would be AWESOME.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Clothing
Yet again... I have two stories for you. The first, merely a little humorous; you may just crack a smile. The second? Epic.
Sunday, I was a friend's house. I thought I looked halfway cute, I mean, not perfect, but cute enough. I was wearing a light blue tank with black bermudas and flip flops. What could be bad about this? Right??? Until I go to the bathroom. And look in the mirror when washing my hands. Guess what else I was a wearing? A hot pink bra. Apparently not only I knew this, but everybody who saw me. Including mom. Go figure.
Two warnings about today:
1. I will admit, going into this story, that this afternoon has not been particularly wonderful. Yeah yeah, cry me a river Justin. So I decide I need to go back to my roots and write. Just write all of the resentment and other assorted crap out. I decide to go to Barnes and Noble to get a journal, thinking I looked like I had pulled myself together, that I hadn't been crying at all.
2. You know those ladies you see when you're that you wonder what they were thinking when they walked out of the house that day. You know... the ones we all bash on? Keep that in mind.
I also thought I looked halfway put together again. Vicki's Secret black yoga pants, a Berks shirt (who can look bad in this?!) and flops again.
Well, people were giving me kinda strange looks. I wiped my nose, hoping there were no boogers. Nope, no boogers. I checked to make sure no tp under my shoe. Nope, no tp. I looked down at the girls, see if I'd pulled a dirty shirt rather than a clean shirt. Nope, it's clean. I go to pay and the salesperson was especially nice to me. Hhhhmmm. So I go to Starbs for an emotional eating (or drinking that isn't booze) treat and the barista had been particularly rude to the person before me, yet was nice and docile with me, repeating what I'd ordered and saying thank you more than once. Hhhmmm.
So I get home with my treats. I decide to see what's up and go look in the full length mirror.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.
I have become one of THOSE women. My toenails were about the only things on me that looked good (they're green...). My calves also looked ok. Now... the thighs. Cottage cheese. The abdomen. Hanging out - literally, it was either round or a tiny bit of flesh on the side showing. The girls? Uni-boob. And with tits like mine, that is TOUGH to do. Yet, I have succeeded in creating the uni-boob. I have a random stray hair sticking out of my neck (of all places...). Parts of my hair were sticking up, my nails are chipping and my eyes were still BRIGHT red. I looked like a motherfreaking wreck. I have become one of THOSE women. Hell has frozen over. You know that Armageddon that was supposed to hit a few months ago? Well, it's coming now. Not because the Bible says so, but because I became THAT woman who walks out of the house and nobody can figure out why.
Feel free to laugh at me. I know I am. While I hang my head in ever loving shame.
Sunday, I was a friend's house. I thought I looked halfway cute, I mean, not perfect, but cute enough. I was wearing a light blue tank with black bermudas and flip flops. What could be bad about this? Right??? Until I go to the bathroom. And look in the mirror when washing my hands. Guess what else I was a wearing? A hot pink bra. Apparently not only I knew this, but everybody who saw me. Including mom. Go figure.
Two warnings about today:
1. I will admit, going into this story, that this afternoon has not been particularly wonderful. Yeah yeah, cry me a river Justin. So I decide I need to go back to my roots and write. Just write all of the resentment and other assorted crap out. I decide to go to Barnes and Noble to get a journal, thinking I looked like I had pulled myself together, that I hadn't been crying at all.
2. You know those ladies you see when you're that you wonder what they were thinking when they walked out of the house that day. You know... the ones we all bash on? Keep that in mind.
I also thought I looked halfway put together again. Vicki's Secret black yoga pants, a Berks shirt (who can look bad in this?!) and flops again.
Well, people were giving me kinda strange looks. I wiped my nose, hoping there were no boogers. Nope, no boogers. I checked to make sure no tp under my shoe. Nope, no tp. I looked down at the girls, see if I'd pulled a dirty shirt rather than a clean shirt. Nope, it's clean. I go to pay and the salesperson was especially nice to me. Hhhhmmm. So I go to Starbs for an emotional eating (or drinking that isn't booze) treat and the barista had been particularly rude to the person before me, yet was nice and docile with me, repeating what I'd ordered and saying thank you more than once. Hhhmmm.
So I get home with my treats. I decide to see what's up and go look in the full length mirror.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.
I have become one of THOSE women. My toenails were about the only things on me that looked good (they're green...). My calves also looked ok. Now... the thighs. Cottage cheese. The abdomen. Hanging out - literally, it was either round or a tiny bit of flesh on the side showing. The girls? Uni-boob. And with tits like mine, that is TOUGH to do. Yet, I have succeeded in creating the uni-boob. I have a random stray hair sticking out of my neck (of all places...). Parts of my hair were sticking up, my nails are chipping and my eyes were still BRIGHT red. I looked like a motherfreaking wreck. I have become one of THOSE women. Hell has frozen over. You know that Armageddon that was supposed to hit a few months ago? Well, it's coming now. Not because the Bible says so, but because I became THAT woman who walks out of the house and nobody can figure out why.
Feel free to laugh at me. I know I am. While I hang my head in ever loving shame.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
A Story or Two
Story 1: Funny
I was outside of Baja Fresh yesterday after a tracked and in points lunch, doing a new rewards deal for myself. The old one ain't gonna fly - to put it nicely. Some man in his late 40's/early 50's comes up to me and asks what I'm doing. Uumm, making a weight chart? The man proceeds to seat himself and start talking. Wait - WHAT?! Reminder: I'm 26. Soo... I won't bore you with all the details, but let's get to why he sat himself down. He was smart enough to note at the forefront I'm "gorgeous". Yeah, keep sucking up. Then he gets around to his point, now that he's lost 100 pounds, chunkier girls are no longer interested in him and that's what he's attracted to... so I got hit on cause I'm fat. No, no, in his words... "Fat is spelled two ways, the normal one and p-h-a-t." Hahahahaha
Story 2: Get Checked
One of my dad's cousins/good friends from childhood has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I met him at grandpa's birthday dash and dad had a great time reconnecting. And mom loved the wife. Long story short - it doesn't look good for him. Having a father who is perpetually in pain, or in the hospital, or in a surgical room, or whatever else, makes that hit even closer to home. So people, go get your nuts checked, your heinies checked, your boobies checked, and all of the myriad of body parts that can be checked.
Both of these stories happened yesterday or told to me yesterday. It really inspired me to get back on track and get serious. I have a life to live and it needs to be a healthy one, where treats aren't the norm, but exactly that, a treat. I know in general what I want out of my future and it's time to get me where I need to go, plus all the riff raff of figuring out the school/job front and the people I want to be surrounded with as I move forward.
So reminder... go get checked.
I was outside of Baja Fresh yesterday after a tracked and in points lunch, doing a new rewards deal for myself. The old one ain't gonna fly - to put it nicely. Some man in his late 40's/early 50's comes up to me and asks what I'm doing. Uumm, making a weight chart? The man proceeds to seat himself and start talking. Wait - WHAT?! Reminder: I'm 26. Soo... I won't bore you with all the details, but let's get to why he sat himself down. He was smart enough to note at the forefront I'm "gorgeous". Yeah, keep sucking up. Then he gets around to his point, now that he's lost 100 pounds, chunkier girls are no longer interested in him and that's what he's attracted to... so I got hit on cause I'm fat. No, no, in his words... "Fat is spelled two ways, the normal one and p-h-a-t." Hahahahaha
Story 2: Get Checked
One of my dad's cousins/good friends from childhood has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I met him at grandpa's birthday dash and dad had a great time reconnecting. And mom loved the wife. Long story short - it doesn't look good for him. Having a father who is perpetually in pain, or in the hospital, or in a surgical room, or whatever else, makes that hit even closer to home. So people, go get your nuts checked, your heinies checked, your boobies checked, and all of the myriad of body parts that can be checked.
Both of these stories happened yesterday or told to me yesterday. It really inspired me to get back on track and get serious. I have a life to live and it needs to be a healthy one, where treats aren't the norm, but exactly that, a treat. I know in general what I want out of my future and it's time to get me where I need to go, plus all the riff raff of figuring out the school/job front and the people I want to be surrounded with as I move forward.
So reminder... go get checked.
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