i'm a bear.. hear me GaaarrRRR!!

We have plans to go camping/backpacking this Memorial Day weekend. Joe is an avid camper... being from Idaho and all :-)

Or should I say was, since we have only been camping together two times in as many years?

The first time we went with another couple overlooking this algae-infested pond beautiful lake and it rained the whole time.

Oh, and the chick we were with went and took a dump in the woods and came back and put her used TP in the fire. Let's just say no one wanted to cook smores! It was a 'shitty' experience.

Our second backpacking/camping trip - just the two of us - went much better, but it's been almost a year now since we've been.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that i don't like camping trips.

It's just hard to find the time... But we're going this weekend with a group of friends for 3 nights! With 3 dogs (yes, 3 - I'm dog sitting for friend and don't ask how i thought that would be a good idea, but I digress).

One of my friends, a transplant from Cincinnati, is coming along and she has never been camping before, so she is basically making the stockholders of REI very happy "getting ready" for this trip. Yesterday she sent me over her list, which REI conveniently supplied, of everything she "needs" for camping. I tried to assure her that she did not, in fact, need an headnet or flares, but I think she just wants to be prepared :-)

Yesterday was a long day. I was tired,but it was Tuesday so off my lil bro Gabe and I trekked to Sarvey Wildlife like we do every week. I didn't get home until well after 11:00pm and Joe was already dozing off on the couch with a glass of wine. I was too exhausted to be jealous. We got in the shower and I started to tell him about my day. I was laughing about the thought of my friend showing up with a star identification map, an ice-axe and head lamp in tow.

Joe was laughing with me, until I got to the part about the head lamp.

"Uhh... you'll probably gonna be the only one without a head lamp."
"Why would I need a head lamp? I have a flash light!"
"They're just super convenient, you know... for night hikes."

Okay, first of all I DON'T believe I will be the only one without a headlamp. Just saying. But more importantly, why the HELL would we go on a "night hike"? Isn't the whole point of hiking to enjoy your surroundings?

And I don't know about you but I like my ankles - I've liked them for a long time. The way the are, ya know. Not broken.

The only way I'm going to be doing any hiking at night is very quickly if I'm.. ya know.. running from a rapist or a bear or something..

So I told Joe all of the above. I was tired and cranky so I pretty much said it just like that. And then I threw in, ya know... just for good measure:

"YOU can go hiking at night with your precious headlamp. I will be drinking whiskey by the fire. And Homie's staying with me, because Homie doesn't go night hiking EITHER!!!"

Did I mention I love camping?

Anyway, I went to bed for some much needed rest and I slept. Until 6:30am when Joe's iHome awoke me from the most amazing dream ever (so annoying) and Joe barks "Hit the snooze".

See, Joe gets up (and goes to bed) before me, and I like... no I NEED... my morning sleep. It's my best sleep. It's my - if I don't get it you don't want to be around me - sleep.

Now, usually I don't even wake up to Joe's alarm. Usually I'm a pretty heavy sleeper and Joe just reaches over me and presses the damn snooze button himself.

Probably since I was having such an amazing dream God awoke me to punish me for making fun of that girl who pooped her pants in my second grade class.

Anyway, so I pressed the snooze button... and tried to get back to the part where Bondi and I were running off into the sunset to frolic with sparkle unicorns and rainbow butterflies....

*BEEP*BEEP*BEEP* 6:37AM

I rolled over and looked at Joe, waiting for him to, oh I dunno, shut the goddamn alarm off.

Mother-pooper's still asleep!!!

Well this morning, Joe snoozed his alarm from 6:30AM until the time he actually got out of bed at some point over an hour later!! And by Joe I mean me because I am the one who actually had to reach over every time and press the damn snooze button. Because Joe was ignoring me!!! Despite the fact that I was screaming and bitching and carrying on (no I'm not proud, just honest) every time the alarm woke me up. 14 times.

I am one of those people who, when upset, needs to be Heard. Validated. Acknowledged. Pacified. All I got was a few annoyed grumbles and that WOULD.NOT.DO.

So I did what any crazed, sleep-deprived, PMSing normal girl would do. I unplugged the alarm and chucked it across the bed at Joe. Oh yes I did. And I said that alarm would be on his side of the bed from now on. "GaarrRRR!!"

So what did Joe do? He calmly plugged the iHome back in... got out of bed and said "You are out of control."

Finally... victory!!! Joe is up and getting ready and I get to go back to bed!!!!

And then do you know what happened? 7 minutes later, like clockwork, the piece of shit went off again.

Tell me is this iHome like super human? I unplugged it!!! Don't you have to reset it or something?

So from bed I gave my best... "GaaarrrRRRRRRR!!!"

Yes, I ROARED.


Speaking of, I am thinking I need to beware of Bears this weekend... something Brick said in Anchorman.

you win some, you lose some

I recently got a VPN from my laptop at home to my desktop at work, which is pretty awesome because it means sometimes I can work from home!!

Working from home = HUGE PLUS because:

(1) I get to skip the whole.. sitting in gridlock traffic thing that is so lovely in Seattle... member my rap about it?
(2) Excluding the usual gmail, facebook, blogger, etc. there are No distractions, so I actually get much more accomplished.
(3) I can catch up on laundry while I'm working.

While we're on the topic of laundry, today I had a a miniature laundry breakdown. I hate laundry. It freaking NEVER ENDS...

Lucky for me, laundry is my responsibility... because Joe is "scared" to do laundry. I have no idea why that would be. It surely has nothing to do with the fact that I might have freaked out a teensy weensy bit after the 11th time he WASHED my dryclean only and DRYED my lacey undies and bathing suits.. surely that cannot be the reason. I mean, we had several lessons on what can and cannot be washed/dryed, but apparently I have instilled the Fear of God in him and he will.not.touch.laundry less he be subjected to the "Wrath of Jenny". His words.

In all fairness, he does dishes. But I would SOOooo rather let him deal with the whole 'cleaning' thing do dishes.

Anyway, relationships are all about compromise and what have you. That's what they say... so I do the laundry. Here's what I accomplished today... these are clean, btw:

Somewhere under this massive pile is actually a basket. It's a-freakin-lot, right??? I mean, seriously. How is this even possible???

Well I'll tell you why: Mister boyfriend goes through about 12 lbs of clothes a day! Yes, that's right. NONE of those clothes are mine. They're ALL Joe's. Seriously.

Here's Joe's day with clothes:

Wake up and throw PJs on floor... unless they were already on the floor ;-) Regardless, they end up on the floor.

Get dressed for work... that involves at least 4 items of clothing, more if its a "professional attire" day.

Get home from work and change into comfy clothes.

Add gym clothes if it's a work-out day.

Shower and throw towel on floor (actually truth be told Joe's towels usually make it in the 'laundry' wherever that is, and mine end up on the floor, but heyyy at least I usually reuse 'em).

Change into comfy clothes (*not the same* as before post-work, pre-shower comfy clothes) which may or may not end up on the floor by the morning....

This is totally.out.of.hand!!!

So I kindly sent Mr. Joe a few text messages just now:

"If u don't stop throwing everything u wear ONE TIME in the laundry I'm going to kill you."

"I know where you sleep."

"Unless you sweat/poop/pee/make sexy time in it, it is NOT dirty. Unless it touches your balls, then it can be washed."

"Blood, blood counts too..."

I thought this was short and sweet! But no response....

UPDATE: Joe just got home from work. He's wearing sweatpants, sneakers and his button-down work shirt. This is actually a cute look, btw :-) He said he was going to the gym tonight but the dress shirt threw me off, so I asked what the deal was. He said he was trying to "save" his shirt from wrinkles.

Good boy...I guess I DID make my point!!!

However, he wouldn't let me take a picture. Oh well, you win some.. you lose some...  :-)

Bring on hump day...

... because I'm ready for this week today to be over.

Our Subaru has been having a rough time lately.. to the tune of, oh, a bajillion dollars $2,000+ in repairs rough in the last few months.

Rewind to Sunday while I'm being all independent and what have you, driving to get some space "run some errands" and all of the sudden there is smoke coming out of the hood. Lovely...

So I pop the hood, because, clearly, I.CAN.HANDLE.THIS.

What to do? Of course... check the oil!!! I pull the little oil dipper doo-dad out, wipe it off, stick it back in. Hmmm... There's oil in the car. Now what?? I was not going to call Joe just yet, cause I.CAN.TOTALLY.HANDLE.THIS. but SHIT... dad's on business in China... don't know country code or need a $78 international calling charge.

Next man on the list: My Uncle Jack. He tells me to check for anything that could get lodged in the engine that may cause it to smoke, and I find a piece of cardboard (which I later learn Joe uses as a funnel and stores on the side of the engine intentionally, go figure) and determine this must be the cause of the problem.

Remove cardboard. Restart car. DAMN. Still smoking... and lovely, there's green stuff coming out of the hood. This, apparently, is antifreeze. Good times. (Sidenote: antifreeze is very tasty and incredibly poisonous to, as in sure fire way to kill, dogs).

At this point I call Joe. HANDLING THIS: FAIL.

Long story short, the radiator was cracked which I have learned causes the antifreeze to leak, the car to overheat, and can do all sorts of bad stuff. So there goes another $500. Yippee!!

Oh, and the car was supposed to be fixed this morning but it wasn't so I had to reschedule my dentist appointment that I urgently scheduled yesterday because I keep having dreams about my teeth falling out and this one tooth is killing me and I'm SURE I have a cavity but when I went in this afternoon I just found out it's just phantom pain (whatever that is?) which is good, I guess, except now I'm pretty sure my dentist who I've seen since I was 3 thinks I'm crazy because I told him about my recurring teeth dreams... and *breathe* aaahhhh.... was that sentence long enough?

So I decide to go to CrossFit to blow off some steam. Good plan. Except I get there and realize I have no sports bra. Whatever, I'm gonna do this anywayy...

And then I learn the WOD (workout of the day) is "Annie on the Run" - translation: a VERY bad day to forget your sports bra. This workout involves a lot of double unders (yup-Jump Rope, lovely) and a lot of running. I hope it was entertaining for all the men.

Oh, and one more CrossFit woe, because I haven't complained enough in this post. Back in December I did a benchmark WOD that was freakin brutal. I think it's called "Fran" or "Angie" or I dunno, but regardless it is:

• 100 pullups
• 100 pushups
• 100 situps
• 100 squats

Afterwards I was literally so sore that I COULD NOT straighten my arms for days. One night, I was using those hand-warmers some people use while skiing to try and relax my biceps, and I fell asleep with one on my arm.

Well, it slipped from my bicep down to my forearm and I woke up with freakin' 2nd degree burns on my arm... seriously!! I had 4 blisters that oozed and hurt like hell and were just plain nasty. And worst of all, they were in the shape of a freakin' PENIS!!!!

I did the whole neosporin - don't touch - don't pick thing for weeks. I'm kinda OCD about picking but I SWEAR I was really good about it because I DID NOT WANT A PENIS SCAR.

But alas, it was meant to be. Today in the elevator, I looked down at my forearm and have come to terms with my Angie-Induced CrossFit Penis Scar:

 

Okayy it doesn't really look like a penis anymore, but it used to!!!

Now it just slightly resembles a long skinny curved one with very small testicles. Or it looks like I cut myself. Not sure which is better... thoughts?? 

So how was your day?

8===D

PS-that could totally be a new smiley face!

good news!

Good News!!!

We finally have a Christmas Tree* in our apartment. Yuppers, folks. I came home last night and there was a little Christmas Tree in the window by the dog bed... it even had lights and some ornaments random stuff hung on it! Yay :-) Good job, Joe!

Bad News...

1. Upon closer inspection, this *Christmas Tree (besides being TINY) is actually not a tree at all, but rather just a large Rosemary Bush from Whole Foods. Not complaining... just sayin.... Coincidence that Joe likes to cook with rosemary? I think not.
   
2. I'm pretty sure Joe only gave in and got this Christmas Tree bush because he was in.the.doghouse. and not because he hadn't gotten a tree yet. But that's another story...
3. I actually beat Joe to it because I.just.wanted.a.damn.tree. so I came home with an 8" tall (Seriously!) lil' guy from QFC. I splurged on it - $5.99 - but I figured, heck! It came with 3 ornaments ;-)
   

Moving on, I'm gonna go head and call this lil rosemary. bush. slash. christmas. tree a WIN anyway... in the spirit of the Holidays!!!! meh... and my mini Christmas tree is now chilling on my desk at work:

Don't judge me. I'm messy.

In Other News...
Good: Happy Friday!!!
Bad: I spilled coffee all over my jeans this morning :-(
Good: Said coffee spill matches my apparently coffee-colored Uggs-of-the-Day.

Yes, I took this pic while driving. So what? :-)

Lastly... I Am Soooo Flipping SORE!!!

I mean, kudos to me for actually going to Crossfit Wednesday AND Thursday... I guess. But Wednesday was a brutal leg workout with crazy lunges and squats and "wall balls" (google video Crossfit Wall Ball!) and then yesterday was a "benchmark" Angie:

   100 pullups

   100 pushups

   100 situps

   100 squats

And today I can't sit. Or stand. Or lift my arms above my head. Or turn my body. Seriously... it's awkward! The bad kind. I mean, really... I should have a handicapped parking sticker for days like this because it's so painful even to get in/out of my car, let alone walk!!!

Please just picture this.. it literally takes me about 30 seconds to get in or out of my car. No kidding.  I think I'm dying.


It can't be that bad, you say? Ummm... It's so bad that last night - just an hour or so after the workout, read: before soreness even really set in - my 89 year old grandpa (who I'm pretty sure is almost blind) asked me if I was limping!!!!

So yeah. That's all I got. A rosemary bush for a Christmas Tree and a body apparently saturated with lactic acid. Good times. But TGIF, or whatever ;-)

another year older

I apologize for the major blogging hiatus, but I have been seriously busy!

Last Thursday there was Thanksgiving with family and friends, and then on Friday Joe and I rushed off (quite literally, I got a $175 speeding ticket on the way-boo!) to spend an amazing weekend with his family in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. (Pictures to come!)

No sooner had I unpacked from Idaho (okay - who am I kidding? I still haven't really done that yet!) then I had to leave bright and early Monday morning for Kansas City for a tradeshow for work. I got home late Wednesday night and spent the evening catching up on blogs...
...and yesterday was my 26^th Birthday!!!


The day started as any other day. I didn't feel any older... that is, until I noticed four little gray hairs on my head!! Fabulous. Where are the tweezers??? Yup, I plucked 'em out. I realize I can't go on doing this forever, but I have never dyed my hair before, and I would really NOT like to start now.

When I got home from work, Joe had a few lovely presents waiting for me. It was quite clear he had wrapped them himself :-) The wrapping gets an "A" for effort.

Side note: I always feel so awkward opening presents - is this just me?

Anyway, Joe got me this amazing Helly Hansen Baxter Bomber Hat:

image source.

alternate view. HOT BOY.

image source.

What a sweet boyfriend... to replace my favorite "Idaho Hat" I traded for a veggie dog... remember?

I have to say, this new one is much nicer than my $4.95 Value Village steal!

I also got some sexy Victoria's Secret shtuff... but umm, no pics for ya! I'm thinking I'm going to be getting Joe some sexy Victoria's Secret stuff for his birthday... since that makes more sense to me ;-) JK... sorta.

After presents time, we were off to The Pink Door, a cozy gem in Pike Place Market's Post Alley. We had 8:30 reservations, but weren't worried when we arrived around 8:40, since there were still at least three open tables in this quaint dining room:

 

The annoying hostess - she was actually annoying to me before she even spoke (I feel this way sometimes) - tried to seat us in the loud and crowded lounge, where we wouldn't have been able to have any semblance of conversation. We asked why we couldn't sit in the dining area and annoying hostess said they had only 2 servers with 8 tables each (never mind there fact there's no way there are 16 tables in the tiny dining area).

Say whaaat?? This is a 4* restaurant. Maybe you should hire another server?? Then annoying hostess told us if we had been there at 8:30 she could have seated us in the dining area, but because we were late we'd have to sit in the lounge. My "you're a dumb ass" alert went off... because I'm pretty sure if we had gotten there ten minutes earlier, we'd still be having dinner with one of the servers that apparently was too busy for another table at 8:40. Whatever.

Joe is such a problem solver, though. He suggested we get a glass of wine across the street and come back at 9:15 when some of the tables had cleared out. Annoying hostess said, fine.. great.

Except... when we came back at 9:15, annoying hostess said in such a non-sincere apologetic voice "Sorryyyy... our dining room is closed. We're doing renovations tonight so you'll have to eat in the lounge." WTF. No thanks.

So we left and went to one of our favorite local spots, Cutters Bay House:

 

image source.

We had lovely food, drinks and conversation. Then we went home and watched Private Practice (one of my favs!) and that was that.

Now I'm 26. With gray hairs.

point in case.

So a Facebook friend distant acquaintance from college updated her Facebook status the other day saying:

"Funniest site ever: www.dukerejects.com"

Out of curiosity, I checked it out. It was a "a href" redirect to www.unc.edu - University of North Carolina Chapel Hill's website. Sooo funny!!

This is point in case for me of why DUKE sucks. Sure, sure.. it was a "great education"... but not really!! Certainly not $160,000 worth of education.

With the exception of a few - literally, I can count them on one hand - most classes were taught by professors TAs who didn't give a shit about their students or the same material they'd been teaching year.after.year. In short, Duke 'courses' were pretty much nothing more than what I could have taught myself out of $200 textbooks.

But that is not my point in case. Not only was the education not so great... but the people kinda sucked too. Not all of them, of course. Some of the people I met there will be bridesmaids, life-long friends, etc. But can't you find that at any college??

Most of the people at DUKE - the sad majority - are like Miss Facebook Status Updater (point in case). They think their shit doesn't stink and, oh, because they go to Duke they're better than you. Certainly better than anyone at a *GASP* State School like UNC.

It's not that many of the students at DUKE aren't incredibly smart and special... "the best of the best"... or at least seem that way to impressionable freshman. Hell... three of the five girls in my dorm pod freshman year were their highschool class presidents.

But there are also a hell of a lot of really dumb and snobby men and women kids there whose rich daddies bought their admission. Oh, and they'll be sure to tell you they went to Exeter and ask you what your daddy does when they meet you. Quaint.

Just sayin'

fun with flat tires

Uggh. What a stressful morning we had today!!! It started last night, actually... As I was driving home from Crossfit, I noticed the car was pulling a bit. But then I decided it was just my shaky arms from a hard CF workout (seriously!) and put it out of my mind.

This morning, I woke up early because Joe had a dentist appointment. I was going to drive him so he didn't have to take the bus. As it turned out, thank God I offered! 

A little background - Joe works downtown so he walks to/from work, and I traded my Explorer in earlier this year in the Cash for Clunkers program, so I've been driving Joe's Subaru until I find a good deal on a used SUV.

Anywayyy, back to this morning. No sooner do we pull out of the parking garage then we hear a horrid clunk.Clunk.CLUUUNK. We pull over to find:

Lovely.

Of course we were already running late, so Joe's stressing, but he quickly gets to work on changing the tire. SEXY! On second thought, it would've been sexier if I'd done it... oh well, there's always next time...

10 minutes later: Spare tire on. Off to the dentist we go. Or not! About twenty feet later the clunk.Clunk.CLUUUNK. is back. Apparently the spare tire is also flat. WTF??!!!

Joe [exasperated] says: "If it's not one thing, it's another!"

So-Say-I: "Actually, it's pretty much the same thing."

NOTE TO SELF ... in the future, refrain from such observations.

Ugh. Anyway, the rest of this story sucks but goes something like this: Tried to inflate said busted spare tire. Called AAA. Cancelled on AAA. Took cab to tire shop. Bought tire. Went back to stranded car. Changed third tire. Drove back to tire shop. Waited, and waited, and waited... while tire shop changed four tires (apparently with AWD you can't just change one?), checked alignment, etc. etc.

$600 and 3.5 hours later, we were on our way. Fun Stuff!!

More Thumb Drama... Boo!!

WARNING -This post is full of pretty boring, angst-inducing medical crap.

So this week has been pretty stressful. As I mentioned earlier, I was bit by a cat and got a nasty infection in my hand. Now it's been about six weeks and I've already taken three full courses of antibiotics (a different one each time). Still can't bend my thumb so on Tuesday I go to my GP Dr.F at Lakeside Family Physicians for the umpteenth time.

Dr.F is really young and I don't think he's firing on all cylinders. First Clue: He told me initially dogs' mouths are dirtier than cats' .. I've never heard this and it may or may not be true but it's pretty irrelevant since stats show you are 10x more likely to develop an infection from a cat bite than a dog bite. (Sad that I know this...)

Another Clue: The second antibiotic he prescribed was Doxycyline, which is a broad spectrum antibiotic not generally used for the treatment of the cat bites... not to mention the fact that I've taken Doxy several times before (which I told him) so it's unlikely to be very effective. My body probably says, "Oh, that again." Stupid, if you ask me. And as I expected, it didn't work.

Anywayyy... so I go to the doc Tuesday and he pretty much says everything is fine, despite the fact that I still can't bend my thumb much and it still hurts like a MOTHER when I bump it on anything. Later in the day I call and request they fax my records to an infection specialist who I'll be seeing from hereon. Lo and behold, Dr. F calls - presumably to cover his ass - and says, "On second thought, we better get an MRI since you're still having pain." Good idea.

So Wednesday I go get an MRI. Let me tell you, NOT. FUN. I've had these before but this was by far the worst, as I had to lay on my stomach for 90 minutes with my arm above my head. Oh, and about half way through they had to inject me with contrast... it only took three stabs for the nurse to find a vein. Fun stuff.

Wednesday afternoon I get a call from Dr.F and he sounds very concerned. He tells me my MRI doesn't look so good (he actually used the word "SCARY") - the infection is in my bone, joints and tendons. Figures. He refers me to a hand surgery specialist and tells me they will want to operate. WHAAATT???

Yesterday, I go see the surgeon. He is surprised at how good my thumb looks clinically, considering how bad my MRI looks. He schedules me for surgery that same day. He explains this is necessary because if the joint is infected, each day that goes by you are losing cartillage. Apparently, in this surgery they open up the thumb, irrigate the joints, try to get as much bacteria out as possible, and do a bone biopsy to culture the bacteria that is causing the problem. This allows them to determine which antibiotic will be most effective.

The surgeon also refers me to an infection specialist (the one I originally made an appointment with) to review my post surgery antibiotic treatment options. I meet the specialist just before I'm supposed to check in for surgery. I ask him if there is anything I haven't tried that might let me avoid surgery. He reviews my history and tells me I can try CIPRO. It has a "pretty good" chance of solving the problem. I obviously prefer this to surgery. He consults with the surgeon and we come up with a plan:

I am going to take CIPRO and Bactrum (two heavy-duty anitbiotics that can get into the joints and bones) for 7 days and reevaluate. If my thumb improves I will continue for the full course. If not, I have to go off of the antibiotics and let them get out of my system (this takes a few days) so the surgical biopsy culture can be accurate.

Long Story Short - My thumb has ~7 days to disinfect itself (please work, new antibiotics!) or its off to the operating table for me.

My Boy and His Toy

My boyfriend Joe is the easiest person in the world to shop for, not because I have excellent taste (though I like to think I do!) but because he's just like a "tween" at Christmas time, except all year long.

Right now, off the top of my head, I know just a few of the many things he needs wants include a new baseball mitt, a brown belt, and "speed sticks" (these badass Rossignol skis for 'shredding' in chunky Washington snow conditions.) I know this not because I'm incredibly perceptive, but because he's mentioned these these things to me several times.

I don't mind that he does this, because it makes it quite painless for me when it comes time for buying Chistmas/Birthday gifts. And it is kind of cute... invoking this whole, excitable little boy thing...

That is, it WAS kind of cute, until he starting obsessing over a remote control helicopter.

A commercial for an RC helicopter would come on, or he'd see one in a store, and exclaim "OOoooh, I WANT ONE!" At first I thought he was just playing. Hahahah... very funny.

I thought, surely he can't be serious. Surely, this grown man does not want a plastic, made in china, remote control operated helicopter. Flight lessons - sure. RC helicopter - no sir.

But he kept mentioning this 'remote control helicopter' thing. Over. and over. and over. Oh yes, people. He was serious. He truly, madly, deeply wanted a remote control helicopter.

Poor Joe. Several gift-giving occassions have come and gone, and Joe is still without his his dearly beloved toy. Somehow I just can not bring myself to buy this for my 28-year-old boyfriend. Well, apparently he grew tired of waiting, because a few weeks ago he announced that he had finally gotten that closet organizer on Amazon, and oh - forgot to mention - cough.cough. an RC helicopter [pictured below].

Are you kidding me? :)

Joe has become incredibly anxious waiting for his RC helicopter to arrive. We have had 3 packages delivered and each time he collects one and it is NOT his toy, he returns with a dejected - you kicked my puppy - look that cracks me up. He has informed me several times now that he has "already escalated a complaint with PayPal" hahahahahahah SERIOUSLY!!

Fast forward to this past weekend. [This may seem off topic, but stick with me]. Joe is seriously in a hurry to get out of the apartment, as we're supposed to be watching the Idaho-Hawaii game with friends and Joe doesn't want to miss kick-off (again? oops..) This is the super annoying kind of rush factor, where he stands behind me, arms crossed, while I brush my teeth, put on mascara, etc. (And by the way, I am super fast. He doesn't even appreciate just how fast I am. We're talking no hair straightening - just a ponytail, no multiple outfits, no eyeliner, etc. 15 minutes from coffee to the car. MAX.)

So, even though I'm annoyed at having been so rushed, I get ready in what has GOT TO BE record time. We're finally leaving the apartment. Down the elevator we go. Elevator door opens, and who do we see but the Post Man with a big canvas bag of packages.

Joe's eyes light up like a little boy's on Christmast morning. "Hey man. I hate to do this to you, but do you mind checking to see if you have a package for me?"

Nevermind that the world is coming to an end because "we're already behind schedule" blah. blah. blah. Joe patiently waits while Mr. Postman goes through his ENTIRE canvas bag of packages, slow as a snail on codeine.

Five minutes later, there is No RC Helicopter and one very sad Joe.

So there's no real end to this rant, but I will keep you posted on any funnies that occur when the RC helicopter finally arrives. (I'm thinking there will be a few.)

And before I go, I have a question - is it very terrible of me that I have such an "OMG. Seriously?" reaction to my boy's obsession with his toy? Is this just a boys and their toys thing??

Fell Off the CrossFit Wagon..

Soooo my friend Kelsey at The Seattle Smiths introduced me to CrossFit back in March, and I have been OBSESSED ever since.

For those of you who don't know, CrossFit is this super intensive workout regime that is constantly varied. Okay, so that was a terrible explanation. I don't know what to say about CF except that it will KICK YOUR ASS into shape with a commitment of just 3-4 days/week and 30 or so minutes/day.

Sound too good to be true? Well it's not all peaches and cream. At the end of a CF workout I inevitably collapse into a pile on the floor where I remain, feeling unable to move, for several minutes. Upon standing, I leave a lovely crime-scene-esque body imprint of sweat. And I'm not going to lie, I've definitely vomited in my mouth a few times during some particularly hardcore workouts.

Anyway, so I've been going to Northwest Crossfit for several months now and LOVING IT. I never go to bed without checking their Forum for the next day's workout (in CF lingo, the WOD) and have been steadily improving. About a month ago, I did an RX'd WOD with 60 pullups in it. So Bad Ass!!!

But after the attack of PsychoCat, I fell off the CrossFit Wagon...

At first, this was justified by the copious amounts of medication I was taking. Oh, and the fact that my hand looked like an Oompa Loompa's. One week passed, two weeks passed... but now, almost four weeks have passed and there's no excuse!

Okay, I still can't really move my right thumb... that's my excuse. But I know damn well I could get in there and do modified WODs and... but, well, I'm ScuRReD! See these CrossFitters aren't your average gym rats. They're freakin' crazy!!

So... this last Tuesday I sucked it up and went in, prepared to subsitute the WOD for some pansy version due to my obvious handicap. Lucky for me, it was LEG DAY!!! No substitution required. Goody, goody gumdrops!

The lovely RX'd WOD for women - 4 rounds for time x

• 30 - 10 ft Wall Ball throws @ 14lbs
• 50 Jump Rope Double Unders
• 100 ft walking weighted lunges with 2x20lb dumbbells

I modified the WOD (which I don't usually do) using a 12lb med ball and 15lb DBs because I KNEW it was going to kick my ass, after more than 3 weeks out of the gym. And it STILL took me just under 30 minutes to finish! My achilles were cramping up the entire time, I couldn't breathe, thought I was going to die, it was pretty much miserable.

Oh and the best part - I am SOOOooooo SORE. Still can't walk normally. Every freakin' muscle in my legs hates me. My lower body feels like it was run over by a truck.

Ughhhhh WTF- I remember CF being wayyyyy better than this!

MOI? Complain Much???
Anywayy, I swear I'm not giving up. I will go back. When I can walk again without appearing as though I have a broomstick up my ass.

Just not tonight. Tomorrow's not looking good either.