the poopy part of san francisco

We spent the weekend in San Francisco. It was mostly all sunshine and rainbows :-) Delicious food and drinkys, swanky hotel, lots of walking, window shopping, and people watching...

... But some of the trip was pretty poopy... quite literally.

I haven't decided if this is even funny or not, but it is most definitely gross. Consider yourself warned. OK, here goes...

So it all started when Joe and I were looking at renting a condo from a lesbian couple who were originally from San Fran. We asked them to recommend some "non touristy" places to check out, and they suggested Polk Street. I distinctly remember they said be sure to avoid *some part* of Polk Street, which I wrote down on a little piece of paper that I promptly lost.

Well, Saturday morning Joe and I are feeling all spontaneous and decide to head to Polk Street.

We're hip. We're cool. We're fresh. We ain't no tourists!

So we start walking south on Market Street... and walking... and walking... Now we're at Polk.

"Joe, seriously stop pulling that map out every few seconds... you'll blow our cover!!!!"

I'm so distracted by chastising Joe for his excessive map consultation that I hardly notice there are now bars on all of the windows.

We pass a smoke shop, a strip club, a liquor store, a condemned vacant  building, the 57^th homeless person, a woman with oozing open sores all over her body moaning loudly in the threshold of a doorway...

We're REALLY in a bad part of town now. WTF... There was no warning on the map that said ghetto??

And then my tummy starts hurting. Bad.

Maybe I'm just sick to my stomach from the Crack & AIDS in the air feeling incredibly disturbed by all the sadness?? Nope.. that's not it.

"Umm, Joe... I need to use a bathroom."

"Well, honey..." (He pulls out his handy SF map for the seventeenth time.) "We have less than a mile until it should start cleaning up and then we can stop for lunch and use a bathroom."

"Umm, Joe, I have about 2 maybe 3 blocks in me."

Shit! There's nothing around... Now if I just had to #1, I would happily pop a squat in an alley with the rest of the San Fran homeless population.

*When in Rome* right?

However, I do not poopy in alleys.

Joe's walking faster than me now and almost doesn't see me duck into the Taco Bell on the corner. No, not because I am craving a 7-Layer Burrito. I have to go like right meow. I ask the cashier to buzz me into the bathroom. He informs me I'll have to use the men's room because the women's is "out of order".

Whatever, I'm not scurred. I've done my thing in plenty of men's rooms before. I open the door to the bathroom and immediately regret touching the door handle.

The overwhelming stench, OMG... There are blue plaid boxers in the trash... covered in shit. There is literally CRAP smeared all over the walls and there are turds... multiple pieces of human poop... on the floor. In fact, I just stepped on a piece of poopy.

Oh, my poor UGGS!!


You have got to be shitting me!

And the women's restroom is "out of order"?? WTF. What could possibly be worse than THIS?? I mean, short of someone having an abortion in there and clogging the toilet with the fetus, seriously.

I consider running away. Far, FAR AWAY. But then I realize that I probably won't make it without my undies ending up in a garbage somewhere.

I would be lying if I said I didn't seriously contemplate pooping on the floor. Really, it wouldn't have made any difference in the level of filth. However, I play the dodge the human feces game - like Hop Skotch, only more precarious - on my way to the toilet where I proceed to thank my lucky stars for CrossFit.

Yes, I'm an excellent squatter. Not even any splash-age, (thank God!)

No, I will not touch anything in this restroom, not even a seat cover (not that there were any to speak of)...

TMI yet?

Umm okay, I'll skip the rest of the shitty details. mwahahahaha.

But for your future reference, here is a little guide I made for you illustrating the Poopy Part of San Francisco:

*Made in Paint, yes I am skilled... cuz Photoshop is on my laptop for elitists. Click to enlarge and appreciate all the glorious details.

You're welcome.

Anyway, the rest of the day was all sparkles and rainbows and sunshine! Seriously. But this stuff is not nearly as exciting as a poopy Taco Bell.

Joe's "Crab Shack" at Fisherman's Wharf.

Homeless man "fishing" for change from a trash can.

Yes, I took a picture.

Funky car parked downtown.

PS: In case you were wondering, we have since learned that it is "not safe" south of California on Polk. I mean, for future reference and all... cause we just spent two hours of our life there last Saturday. No worries, we survived. It was a poopy adventure wonderful time. I would highly recommend it. To anyone.

one more thing...

PS on laundry...

... the whole beauty in *not washing* everything after wearing it just once (besides the obvious benefit of having much less laundry) is that it's actually a sort of an excercise in self-image therapy.

What I mean is, if I washed my jeans every time I wore them, I would constantly feel like I was gaining weight. Every day I would have to go through the whole Jeans Aerobics process of *bend and squat* stand* lunge left* lunge right* repeat.. and on really bad days (I always blame the dryer) insert *lay down * lean back *button *sit-up and hope zipper doesn't break prior to the whole *bend and squat* stand* routine.

Whereas... and here's the lovely part... if I wear my jeans 57 days and counting a few days in a row without washing them, I feel fantastic :-)

I mean, every day is just like "Woww.. I feel GRRrreat, my jeans fit sooo well!!! Must be all that CrossFit..."

image source.

Just sayin...

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 ;-)

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!!

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.