Disgusting encounter #1
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Ranting and Raving

I'm back at the gym... or rather, I've restarted my fitness program at a whole new gym.  No more YMCA, bring on the Planet Fitness!  Its a bare bones gym, with cardio, weights, and bathrooms.  No nice stretching areas, no fun classes, but by golly- unlimited ability to fry yourself in a tanning booth!

Its populated by primarily youngish men pumping iron- but no grunting, please... they have a "no-grunting" policy.  Also in attendance are the usual middle-aged and elderly ladies in their golf shorts or spandex bike shorts with baggy teeshirts down to their knees.  There are surprisingly very few elderly men, which is weird for me comsidering how many old guys used the Y.

One particular older gentleman decided to approach me today as I am stretching my hamstrings, flat on my back.  He leaned over me and said in what may have been a Polish accent:

"You do good job on machines and lifting weights.  I see you do them.  You will lose that stomach if you keep doing that.  Then you can be my girlfriend.  Ha ha ha...."

Again, I am astounded by what people will say to others in a gym setting.  Needless to say, flat stomach or not, I will not be taking up his offer.

Remember what I said?
Mood:  irritated
Topic: Ranting and Raving

So I said that I'd be able to lose the 25 pounds easily because I am breast feeding.  What a big fat lie.  I feel like I'm doing everything right- eating to hunger, exercising, drinking loads of water and even some green tea, and yet here I am, stuck at 224.

 I'm seriously going to have to go to Lane Bryant and buy size 18 pants.  Does anyone know if Lane Bryant runs big?  I guess it doesn't matter because I'll still be shopping in there and I hoped never to go there.  This is what happens when you gain 60 pounds while pregnant.

You better believe that I am NOT getting pregnant again until I fix this problem and I am NEVER going to gain 60 pounds again.  Ever.

 That said, I have about 45 minutes longer to wait until I can go downstairs and hit the Precor... well not literally hit it, but you know what I mean.

After all, I have THIS to get back to:

Course it was 5 years ago, but I can do it!  Eventually....

Photoshop=Heaven
Mood:  cool
Topic: Ranting and Raving

I LOVE Photoshop.  I love the fact that you can virtually delete zits with a click of the mouse.  How much better can life be?  I just started playing around with it yesterday, but here is an example of my first attempts at editing.  The first shot is the original, the 2nd is the slightly edited version (adjusted for color, cropped, and digital zit-popping).

When passive aggression isn't enough...
Mood:  irritated
Topic: Ranting and Raving

Today at the gym, Buff Chuck and his wife are doing their usual upper body workout, which involves parking themselves two feet away from the rack of free weights and sitting there on their asses for 30 minutes turning purple with exertion and saying things to each other like, "Breathe!  Fill your lungs up with air!"  These are the type of gym-goers who lift twice what they should and spend three hours trying to increase the girth of their necks.

Anyways, I look for the 30 pounders.  Buff Chuck's wife has them sitting on the floor.  She is standing around waiting for Buff Chuck to finish strutting to the water fountain or whatever he was doing.  I ask her politely, "Excuse me, can I use one of those weights for a set of 6?"

She nods, and then adds, "Yes, but when you put them back, can you please not walk in front of him if he is in the middle of a set?  Its distracting."

What?!  Listen lady... you set yourself up in the middle of a crowded gym directly in front of the only free weights (the portion that us weenie women need to use) and complain about people needing to get in and around you?  It was BEYOND aggravating.

I swallowed any angry retort I could have made (along the lines of "Eff you!") and said, "Fine."

And proceeded to bitch for the next 5 minutes about it to Nancy and Kathy.  Oh well... I'm not the violent type, I guess.

Things you DON'T want to hear at the gym....
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Ranting and Raving

... some young boy (maybe 14?  15?) saying, "I get more ass than a toilet seat!"

 What?  I almost had to say something, but I didn't want to be that crazy white b*tch at the gym.

For all of us who love those tight, tight jeans
Mood:  loud
Topic: Ranting and Raving

Read this article:

http://www.latimes.com/features/lifestyle/la-et-tightclothes4jul04,0,368397.story

 Heck...wear what you want...just not this:

"I'm SO HOT!"
Mood:  irritated
Topic: Ranting and Raving
Last night I experienced the most unpleasant telemarketer call in my life. Let me preface this by saying that I am a fairly even-tempered person, and it really does take a lot for me to get mad at someone, especially a stranger on the phone. Also, I used to make fundraising calls in college for the alumni fund, so I am usually scrupulously polite to telemarketers, knowing how tough a job it is.

However... last night I received the call from hell from a man from Dell Financial Services. Here's how it went down:

Asswipe (AW for short): Hello, may I speak to Piercey?

Me: Who?

AW: Jamie Pierre? Spelled P-i-e-r-r-e?

Me: Speaking, how can I help you?

AW: Sir, do you realize that it is May 9th, the day on which your payment of $30 is due for you Dell Computer? We have not received your payment.

Me: Um, I was under the impression that my deal was for 0% APR, no payments for 6-12 months or something like that. I was going to finish paying it off this month, in fact.

AW: Actually sir...

Me: I'm a woman.

AW: There is no interest but you still have to make a payment. Do you realize that you have not made your payment this month.

Me: (starting to feel testy) Yes, I realize that. I will make a payment today.

AW: Sir, if you do not, you will be charged an extra $30 late fee. And you will get a derogatory mark on your credit report.

Me: Yes, I DO understand that. I just told you that I will take care of that.

AW: Are you promising that you will make the payment today? I will document this understanding. Are you going to make that payment online?

Me: (feeling REALLY testy right now) YES, that IS what I just said.

AW: Can I ask why you did not pay this on time?

Me: (My voice is starting to rise in volume) I already said that it was a misunderstanding. I thought that I did not have to pay for 6 months. (An aside: the outstanding balance is 300 fucking dollars, people)

AW: Ok, I'll document that. Can I verify your address please?

Me: I know you have my address correctly because I have the bill right here in my hand.

AW: I still need your address so that I can complete this call.

Me: (sighing) OK, fine... ### such-and-such street, etc.

AW: Sir, can I verify your phone number?

Me: I AM A WOMAN!!!!!

AW: I'm very sorry, ma'am.

ME: Besides, you called ME. You must have the number correctly!

AW: Can you verify the number, ma'am?

Me:(extremely Pissed off now) YES! It's ###-###-####!

AW: (condescendingly) Now, are you going to pay this bill now ma'am?

Me: (extremely angry at this point) Okay, that's enough. I've already explained the situation and that I will pay the bill tonight. GOODBYE.

CLICK.

I was ranting and raving for a good 5 minutes, telling Walter about the call, and saying, "I'm so hot right now! I'm so angry!"

My nephew Vernell started stomping around shouting "I'm hot Auntie Meme!" And I started laughing.

Thank god for kids!

It was almost WWF Smackdown up in thurrrr...
Mood:  energetic
Topic: Ranting and Raving
Last night at 5 p.m. I left work and headed for my gym. On a Monday at 5, the gym-going population seems to triple at least compared to the other days. I pull into the parking lot, and proceed to drive around in circles for nearly ten minutes trying to find a parking place.

Once I make my way into the gym and downstairs to the free weights section, I purposefully walk over into the midst of 5-6 guys (no women, as usual). There are two incline benches with weights in front of them, unracked. Both are empty... I look around and ask both the trainer and another man sitting nearby, "Are either of these free?" They both affirm that the bench on the left is free. I go through the motions of racking the 55 pound dumbells left behind by some inconsiderate jerk-off and si down to start my incline presses.

Mid-way through my first set, I see an angry man glaring down at me. "You've taken my bench!" he shouts. I look up at him, as sweetly as possible, and start to explain, "Well, there was no one here for a while and I asked other people if the bench was free and they said yes." He puts his hands on his hips and swells his chest and retorts, "Well, you could see that I had weights there. You put them away!" I stand up very straight and say firmly, "You can't expect on a busy Monday night to leave weights lying around in front of a bench for over ten minutes and that no one will come along and need to use the bench."

He glares at me and stomps off (yes- a 50+ year old man stomping like a little boy!) and starts slamming around another weight bench. I just roll my eyes and continue on with my workout.

A few minutes later, he leaves the area again for a period of 5 minutes. While he's gone, two other guys come over and tell me what a jerkoff this guy is and that they totally agreed that its just too busy on a Monday to expect to save your spot on the benches for longer than a few minutes at most.

Normally, this would have me boiling inside and cause me to be really out of focus for the rest of the workout, but I was able to take deep breaths and move on. Apparently that guy just felt like being an asshole yesterday and I was the coincidental target :)

Don't EFF with my Runner's World!
Mood:  loud
Topic: Ranting and Raving
At my gym the other day, a female trainer came up to me while I was on a machine in the middle of my last set of 12 reps. My headphones were on, and I was tuning everyone out. She starts talking to me and I have to stop my reps, and take off my headphones. Interrupting someone mid-rep, in case you are unaware, is not good etiquette in a gym. She says, "Um, excuse me? You need to put your stuff in a locker." She points to my BFL exercise journal. I try to explain, "Well, you see, I need it for my workout. I use it to track what weights I lift and how many reps I do." Which apparently confused her, because she said, "Um, okay, but you need to put it farther back so no one trips on it."
Already the thing was UNDER my feet. Who is going to trip over my book UNDER my feet while I am on a gigantic machine? Its not like we have that many blind people walking aimlessly around the weight room?
If that wasn't bad enough, I took my contraband and one of my magazines over to the cardio area. I put my magazine down, with my journal on top of it, and my water bottle next to it on a ledge next to my treadmill. I did a quick run/walk workout, and reached to get my magazine and stuff.

No magazine. Someone had swiped my mag right out from under my journal!

Now, you're probably all rolling your eyes and thinking, "why does this girl think she has problems?" Well, I'm telling you that three days without chocolate can make you crazy.

Today I found my magazine, on the rack, crumpled and sad-looking. I rescued it, poor thing. Wonder who's had their grubby hands on my Runner's World Magazine. If I could, I'd dust it for fingerprints.

Harry Potter- Half Blood Prince
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Ranting and Raving
So, I finished the 6th book this weekend and felt very "put out," to put it mildly. I don't want to ruin it or anyone that hasn't yet read it entirely, but I was nearly to the point of tears and had a very sick feeling in my stomach. Such is the power of a truly good book.

A fellow blogger put my feelings into words here:

In Media Res Blog - HBP review

Sad addiction
Mood:  cheeky
Topic: Ranting and Raving
THIS is what they call music these days...

Trillville's Some Cut

Lyrics to chorus:

What it is ho, ah what's up (what's up)
Can a n*gga get in them guts (them guts)
Cut you up like you ain't been cut (been cut)
Show your a** how to really catch a nut (oh yeah yeah)
Well give me you number and I'll call (I'll call)
And I'll follow that a** in the mall (in the mall)
Take you home, let you juggle my balls (my balls)
While I'm beatin and tearin down your walls (oh yeah)

A "ho" as in a garden implement, y'all. Yeah, right. The saddest thing is that this song, while utterly demeaning to women, is so catchy that I was going all over the house singing in a deep voice, "What it is ho," much to my own dismay and to Walter's intense amusement.

The WORST is that freakin Coke commercial..."Put da lime in de coconut and put them both together."

Someone just put me out of my misery.

Great white mass with a wedge
Topic: Ranting and Raving
This is how my friend Heather and I jokingly described my butt on one giggling, sunbathing day in Maine. Sound beautiful, doesn't it?

Before I turned 23, I never really thought about my butt. It was there, ya know? Something to sit on, occasionally something to frustrate me when searching for a bathing suit to cover it. Certainly nothing to flaunt or appreciate.

One time in band camp....no really, one time in band camp, one of the drum instructors said something about me having a nice butt to another one of the kids. I thought, "Ew! He's a total freak! Why is he looking at my butt anyway?" I never stopped to think WHY he would have that opinion.

After that, there was a good 5 or 6 years when my butt and its qualities ceased to be a topic of conversation OR a thought in my mind. Mind you, this is before J Lo's celebrity really exploded and EVERYONE was talking about butts.

When I started dating Walter, it all changed. He's loves it, and gives me compliments, which I've slowly gotten used to. Its a cultural thing, he says. I believe him. Did you know there are MANY words out there to describe a perfectly round booty? Try these out when describing someone's posterior: bubble, onion, apple bottom, bodunkadunk...to name a few. Personally, Walter says I have a bubble, which I guess sounds better than nice ass.

After enjoying two sucessive days of peace at the gym (peace= no annoying come-ons), yesterday my bubble once again became a topic of conversation. Let me set up the scene for you...

Its a beautiful day, sunny and 70, mild for early April in MA, and I'm headed downstairs to the basement of the YMCA for a leg workout. I'm wearing what I consider to be a very normal gym-going outfit of black stretchy workout pants and a white sports bra with white tank over it. These are clothes that allow me to move freely and comfortably while doing squats and lunges, my most hated exercises. (Ironically, these are what has helped me keep the bubble in check).

I'm standing in the middle of the weights section with two 25 pounders, resting between sets of lunges. As always, my headphones are on, blasting Usher, and my gaze is directly ahead in the mirror. I see a flapping of arms in the corner of my right eye. A dude is sitting there, a black guy (I mention this purely as an illustration, because surely there are MANY piggy white, spanish, asian, etc. guys out there), waving at me. I pull off me earphones, expecting a typical comment like, "Is that one of those MP3 players?" which I seem to answer at least once per day.

NO... I get instead, "I wasn't going to say this because I thought it might be inappropriate,"- already I'm cringing- "but you have the nicest butt I've ever seen on a white woman. I just had to tell you."

"Uh, thanks," I stammered, and took my lunges to a creep-free section of the gym. I STILL don't know how to be rude to these people, but I do know how to get the hell away from them!

What's so great about this thing anyways?

Teenage Girls piss me off
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Ranting and Raving
American Idol is probably the only show that I faithfully watch every week, with the exception of America's Next Top Model (when I can catch it). This season was very promising, with several great guys and a couple so-so girls in the contest. One of my favorites was Nikko Smith, who was a fantastic soul singer. There are a few guys in the competition that are spposedly better looking but aren't as talented, namely Constantine and Anthony (for all the fans of Idol out there), so when I saw them voted into the top twelve and Nikko Smith going home, I was shocked. SHOCKED AND DISMAYED, PEOPLE. And the people I hold responsible for voting these poor alternatives in over my Nikko are TEENAGE GIRLS. Only they would vote with their -swoon- hormones instead of their ears.

I don't think I can talk about it anymore. It just hurts too much. Lol...

In other matters, I'm plugging along in this challenge. I'm on my 7th week and have lost 11.6 pounds, so I'm making some good progress. I certainly have my ups and downs, but training for my 10K on March 19th has helped me stay more focus than in times past. Plus, going to yoga with my friend Jess has given me a midweek break that is so essential to my happiness.

Speaking of yoga, I'm supposed to go to Kripalu this Saturday, but we are due for MORE snow.

Yuck. I hate winter.

Uh oh...
Mood:  don't ask
Topic: Ranting and Raving
My father's company is headed by assholes. Nuff said there.

While I'm speaking of aggression and being pissed off...last night I had Krav Maga. Wow. I am full of aches and pains today. We started class with 10 minutes of suicides with push ups and squat jumps at each segment. Then we did a full minutes of situps- but it was more like a minute and a half. Have you ever tried to do situps for a minute and a half? Its no joke, let me tell you!

We then did about 20 minutes of various punches (after an upper body workout at the gym, no less), followed by learning how to get out of a choke from behind. Two separate guys in my class informed me that they were wearing cups, so "don't worry." Who was worried? Not lil ol me! I'm sure they deserved a tap or two in the nuts anyways for some past misbehavior!

The finale of the class was a "stress circle." All the classmates huddle around one person, and various people bump or push into you until one person startles you and chokes you, at which point you must use the technique you just learned to break away. Scary as all get out, but I did it.

Today my back is KILLING me. It was those damn situps, I swear!

A ROACH!!!!!! IN ONE'S FOOD!!!!!
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Ranting and Raving
I found this blog entry on www.QueSeraSera.org that had me totally freaked out! I would have passed out, right there in the restaurant!

In all seriousness...
Mood:  down
Topic: Ranting and Raving
I read this article in our local paper, and it sickened me. I know why my grandfather was a conscientious objector.

Parents recount tale of Marine's suicide

Wednesday, August 04, 2004
By FRED CONTRADA
fcontrada@repub.com


NORTHAMPTON - When Kevin Lucey pulled into the driveway of his Belchertown home June 22, he had that feeling. It was the awful stew of helplessness and foreboding parents have when their children are in trouble and they don't know what to do.

In the case of the Luceys, the feeling had staked a hold on them a few months after their son, Jeffrey, returned from active duty in Iraq in July 2003. Over the next year, as Jeff exhibited more and more evidence of post traumatic stress disorder, it had grown a stranglehold on Kevin and Joyce Lucey.


With a surreal "graveyard" of military boots in the background, the Lucey family told the story of their son's suicide to a crowd of people on Amherst Town Common last night as part of an event called "Eyes Wide Open."


Sponsored by several local peace groups, the Chicago-based exhibit features 908 pairs of boots representing the American soldiers killed to date in Iraq. Juxtaposed were 1,000 pairs of shoes commemorating the estimated 16,000 Iraqi civilians who have died during the fighting.


"We feel honored and humbled to have Jeff's boots join those of his comrades," Kevin Lucey said. As the family recalled the events last night and in interviews with The Republican, Jeffrey M. Lucey was 19 and fresh out of Belchertown High School in 1999 when he enlisted in the Marines. The decision surprised his family.


"As a mother, I was less than thrilled," Joyce Lucey said.


Still, in those pre-Sept. 11 days, Jeff's stint in the reserves seemed a safe bet. Then terrorists bombed the World Trade Center and the world's mood changed.


At first, Jeff was eager to pitch in. He was glad when his unit, the 6th Motor Transport out of New Haven, was put on notice to go to New York, because he wanted to help the Trade Center victims. When the U.S. invaded Iraq, though, the family grew nervous. In January 2003, they drove him to New Haven in the middle of the night. He shipped out to Iraq a month later.


On March 19, the day after his 22nd birthday, Jeff described in his journal the terror he felt when a missile exploded nearby.


"The reality of where we are hit home," he wrote.


Although originally designated a truck driver, Jeff was assigned to a special operations unit and sent into the battle of Nasiriyah. Details of the brutal fighting came out later in talks with his family.


At one point, Jeff said, he found himself in an alleyway, trying to avoid gunfire. Out in the street was the body of an Iraqi boy who had been shot in the head. Although the boy was already dead, Jeff dashed out, scooped the body up, and brought it into the alley with him. In the boy's clenched fist was a tiny American flag stained with his blood. Jeff took the flag and kept it with him for the rest of his life.


Like thousands of other American families, the Luceys were thrilled when Jeff returned home last year, apparently unharmed. That illusion would soon be shattered.


At first, Jeff seemed happy to have his life back, taking up where he left off with his long-time girlfriend Julie Proulx and enrolling in Holyoke Community College. But the family noticed he was drinking a lot, and he became more and more reclusive.


"It blew up in our face on Christmas Eve," said Kevin Lucey. "We usually go to his grandparents' home in Ludlow, but Jeff said he didn't feel up to it. His sister went back to check on him and found him drinking. He threw these dog tags and said, 'Your brother is a murderer!'"


The dog tags, it turned out, belonged to two Iraqi soldiers. As Jeff later recounted the story, he was ordered to shoot the two unarmed men at point blank range. He shot one through the eye, the other in the throat. As he did so, he said, he could see himself in the two young men.


Marines officials at Westover Air Base and the Pentagon did not immediately return calls about the incident.


"Jeff never even shot a squirrel before," said Kevin Lucey. "He took the dog tags and wore them around his neck, not as trophies, but really to honor them."


Jeff recovered somewhat by Christmas day, a bit embarrassed by his outburst. Over the next few months, however, his mood took a turn for the worse. The nightmares came so frequently and violently that he got little sleep. He began vomiting every day, his father said. Family members often stayed up most of the night with him. They finally set him up with a private therapist.


On May 28, the family had Jeff committed to the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Leeds. He was discharged four days later, diagnosed with alcoholism and mood swings.


"Nobody really saw him," said Kevin Lucey. "The records show he indicated to somebody at the VA that he was contemplating suicide, but we were never informed."


The VA did not respond to questions about Lucey's case yesterday.


The week before Jeff was scheduled to take his final exams, Kevin Lucey said, "the whole thing exploded." He couldn't get himself to leave the house. The family pleaded with him to admit himself to the VA, but he refused. His drinking increased. On June 21, Kevin stayed up with Jeff until 1 a.m. Jeff asked if he could curl up in his father's lap. In what he regards as one last gift, Kevin Lucey cradled his grown son.


When he came home from work the next day, Kevin Lucey could see through the window that the television was on. His wife and daughter were in Maine, volunteering at a camp for children with life-threatening illnesses. Jeff, he knew, must be home.


But Jeff was not in his bedroom when Kevin went to check. He didn't notice that the dog tags Jeff always wore were lying on the bed. Seeing the cellar door open, Kevin Lucey started down the stairs. At the bottom, on the floor, were a bunch of family photos.


Kevin Lucey caught sight of his son out of the corner of his eye. His voice cracked as he tried to describe it.


"I tried to take the noose off his neck," he said. "I just cradled him. I tried to lay him down as gently as I could. I called the police, then I rubbed him, trying to make him warm."


They buried Jeffrey Lucey with the blood-stained American flag he had retrieved from the dead Iraqi boy. It lay on his chest during his wake. Kevin Lucey apologizes when he says that he hopes the U.S. finds weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.


"I know it sounds foolish," he said, "because now it just doesn't make any sense."


According to the Associated Press, the Army reports 18 soldiers have killed themselves after coming home from Iraq. As of February, the U.S. military had confirmed 22 suicides by troops still in that country. The military now requires all soldiers returning from the war to undergo 10 days of counseling.


According to Dr. William Winkendwerder, assistant secretary of defense for health affairs, the military has nine combat stress teams in Iraq to help treat troops .


The Luceys were at Amherst Town Common last night to let other families know that might not be enough.


"This goddamn war is creating thousands of Jeffreys," said Kevin Lucey. "We don't want people to make the same mistakes we did."

Identity Theft
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Ranting and Raving
Forgive me for this rant, as I'm sure it seems totally random to some of you.

In this world, there are parents that do all kinds of nasty stuff to their children. Sometimes its outright nasty- like physical or sexual abuse. Sometimes its very subtle, and can be completely unknown to the kids involved for many years. For instance, identity theft. Its very easy for a parent to use their child's social security number for gas, electric, and cable bills. "Why not?... after all," they say to themselves, "my child has perfect credit!"

Not for long. After the parent uses the kid's credit to open up a new account when they can't afford to pay off their own debts, its easy for them to ignore what they've done and think that when the child gets older that they'll be able to dispute the item on the credit report.

What these selfish parents forget is that a) this is fraud and b) they are actually screwing up their child's credit history for life- with years of disputes with credit agencies and creditors to come and no guarantee that it'll ever be resolved. This can cause the child to have garnished wages and tax returns, inability to take out loans for college or a car, inability to rent decent housing, and a myriad of other financial problems that can take YEARS from which to recover.

That being said...and this goes for EVERYONE...check your credit history carefully. You never know when someone, even someone who created you, could be using your identity and killing your credit.

Finally!
Mood:  celebratory
Topic: Ranting and Raving
So its this past Thursday. I leave work, and decide to go with Walter and DeShaun to the UHaul store to get more boxes. On my way, I call the lady that's moving out of my new apartment (the one who said she'd like to be out by July 1st)to see what the status is. I have had to call every few days or so, just to get the current standings for the past three weeks.

We have a nice chat, and we agree that Friday the 16th is a good day for me to move in.

Walter and I proceed to research trucks and appliances in preparation for our move in a week.

We get home, exhausted from looking at umpteen million washers and dryers, and we have a message...dum dum dum dum....no, she doesn't think Friday will work after all because the carpets won't be cleaned! ARGH!!! She says maybe a day early the following week!

So I had to finally be firm with it and said that the following week wouldn't work and that we HAD to move in that weekend. And she was nice about it and said that we could move in on Sunday.

So we are finally all set.

Here's a few pics I have been remiss about posting:

Here's a pic of me and Priya last Sunday night. Joe Buddens, a famous rapper, was at the Zone that night. It was ridiculously crowded!


Here's one of Priya having a fake tattoo put on her leg by the boys :)


Here's a current picture of my right bicep!


And here's my Outfit-I-Want-To-Fit-Into- Of the Week:

Seeing red!!!
Mood:  accident prone
Topic: Ranting and Raving
I spilled red nail polish on my tan rug 2 weeks before we move. Goodbye security deposit?

I am trying EVERYTHING under the sun to get this stuff out...nail polish remover, Resolve carpet cleaner, ammonia, hydrogen peroxide solution, and who knows what else.

Wish me luck...this may take up all my extra time this weekend because I'm not letting one spill of red polish cost me $740.

At least my toenails look cute.

GRRR!!!!
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: EXTREMELY MAD MUSIC IN MY HEAD
Topic: Ranting and Raving
I have now deleted my post (after writing it in completion twice, I might add) for the last time.

I will not write it out again, but I will give a brief review of what it was suppose to be.

First I commented on how fast I got my shit together last night (including cooking dinner and changing out of my work clothes, amongst other myraid duties) in less than 20 minutes) in order to get over to Walter's basketball game.

I then commented on what the Hubbard League is like, who attends (lots of neighborhood kids running rampant), and my feelings about Walter's friend Reggie's coaching style (he yells alot- inane things that hurt people's feelings, in my opinion).

I then laughed about how, when I was jogging and jumping rope to get away from the testosterone and griping and heckling of the crowd, 7 or 8 little boys all joined in with me and we ended up playing red light/green light for about 15 minutes, effectively making my cardio quite memorable. I am like the pied piper at these things, I swear. Good thing I'm not a child-molester (is that not a stupid statement?), not that anyone would notice. They're all too busy strutting around and yelling out insults.

Okay...deep breath here, I was about to mention that I have started reading a very interesting book called "The Obesity Myth," by Paul Campos. Did you know obesity is a myth?

Tell that to my thighs...