Let's all go by unspeakable names and dance on the beach in pirate sleeves.
6.16.2013
5.21.2013
5.10.2013
5.05.2013
05.05.2013 interval run playlist
I use this playlist for interval runs. I actually hate doing planned runs so typically I just don’t. But
I should. With a good playlist, I can change my intensity with a rawkin' song rather than mere force of will. The
beauty of this is, as I get in better shape, I can find more places to throw
in sprint intervals. Also, the timing of my intervals depends on how I’m presently feeling each song. So every run varies and my body doesn't acclimate to a set workout.
Have an idea beforehand of how many intervals you want to do,
as well as an average length for them. Then just feel out the songs. Change
your intensity accordingly and get in all your sprints. Kick your own ass.
It feels good to work hard.
53:34 minutes
Warm up
Artist Title Length Album
Lupe Fiasco Superstar 4:49 Lupe Fiasco’s The Cool
Boy Little Numbers 3:42 Mutual Friends
Boy Little Numbers 3:42 Mutual Friends
Meat
LMFAO Party
Rock Anthem 4:22 Sorry for Party Rockin’
Cold War Kids Hang Me Up to Dry 3:39 Robbers & Cowards
Florence + the Machine Shake It Out 4:38 Ceremonials
Weeks Buttons 5:17 Comeback Cadillac
Macklemore & Lewis Can’t Hold Us 4:19 The Heist
Cold War Kids Hang Me Up to Dry 3:39 Robbers & Cowards
Florence + the Machine Shake It Out 4:38 Ceremonials
Weeks Buttons 5:17 Comeback Cadillac
Macklemore & Lewis Can’t Hold Us 4:19 The Heist
You better be speeding up for “Can’t Hold Us.” Like, for reals speeding up.
2 minutes in: tired yet? Me too. Run faster.
M83 Midnight
City 4:05 Midnight City
Macklemore & Lewis White Walls 3:40 The Heist
Florence + the Machine Dog Days Are Over 4:13 Lungs
Macklemore & Lewis White Walls 3:40 The Heist
Florence + the Machine Dog Days Are Over 4:13 Lungs
“Dog Days Are Over” is
your last speedwork song so kick it in! Throw in some sprints – Building with
the claps, maxed out on the chorus, then rein it back until the next claps.
That means you’ll have 3 sprints with teeny rests between. Go with the song,
you’ll hear it.
Walk off the Earth Magic 3:36
You just kicked so
much ass w/ your sprints. Slow down here w/ WOTE and bask in your sweaty
splendor. Feel that? - it’s magic.
Walk it out/stretch
Muse Feeling Good 3:19 Origin of Symmetry
Chromatics At Your Door 3:53 Kill for Love
Chromatics At Your Door 3:53 Kill for Love
4.18.2013
5.23.2011
Go-mania
I'm currently in Vata de Jos, a rural village in Western Romania, sitting on my Romanian porch, looking out at the Romanian landscape, and sipping Romanian wine. It's a fine life I must admit. This is my way to travel - The tourists are few, and nonexistent outside our group. The food is homegrown and homemade; and the people kind. The landscape is mountains and countryside, quaint homes w/ character oozing from every red roof and colorful clay wall, and the occasional cobbled cow or horse making its way leisurely through the fields.
I'm here with a group of upperclass agriculture students from Purdue University, two Purdue professors, and one Elanco rep. As much as I'd like to say our purpose here is coupled w/ Heifer International, a corporation I cannot rave enough about, I must admit the most I can realistically hope for myself and the students is to have our minds and hearts stretched.
HI is a nonprofit organization with a mission to "work with communities to end hunger and poverty and to care for the Earth." Most notably, it's an organization that works towards this mission in an intelligent and conscientious manner, respecting the cultures and people it visits. The students accompanying me are completing an international service learning project - the goal of which is for them to glimpse Romanian culture and agriculture and HI's impact on families in one village. We'd like to say we're helping out while here, but in truth we're primarily learning from the people and getting fat from their boundless hospitality.
Before departing for Vata, we were prepared to endure a lack of running water, the possibility of insufficient food, and an absence of most luxuries we Americans have begun to consider necessities. Instead we've found open arms, loving great-grandmothers, tightly knit families, and hard working individuals w/ their own luxuries to show for it - delicious homegrown foods, large front porches w/ swings to share, and the time and patience to stop and "literally smell the roses," as one student put it.
I look around and don't see the poverty I was warned of, but instead simply see a different way of doing things and a lifestyle not entirely unlike that of rural America. And perhaps for good reason - those of you thinking HI is only out there feeding poverty-stricken areas couldn't be more mistaken. Although this is one important role of HI, they are also very involved in the advancement of agriculture technologies beyond meeting basic needs. In Vata, for example, there are currently three HI projects, including one to improve genetic selection and breeding systems via artificial insemination. Not that there isn't need for additional resources and education here but it is a far cry from the impoverished community of our expectations.
Hopefully, I'll be able to bring some of their graciousness and tranquility back home w/ me. At the very least, I'll remind myself to take time to relax on the porch and soak in the world around me.
 |
| This home's garden looks frighteningly similar to my parents' garden where I spent most of my childhood doing chores |
I'm here with a group of upperclass agriculture students from Purdue University, two Purdue professors, and one Elanco rep. As much as I'd like to say our purpose here is coupled w/ Heifer International, a corporation I cannot rave enough about, I must admit the most I can realistically hope for myself and the students is to have our minds and hearts stretched.
HI is a nonprofit organization with a mission to "work with communities to end hunger and poverty and to care for the Earth." Most notably, it's an organization that works towards this mission in an intelligent and conscientious manner, respecting the cultures and people it visits. The students accompanying me are completing an international service learning project - the goal of which is for them to glimpse Romanian culture and agriculture and HI's impact on families in one village. We'd like to say we're helping out while here, but in truth we're primarily learning from the people and getting fat from their boundless hospitality.
Before departing for Vata, we were prepared to endure a lack of running water, the possibility of insufficient food, and an absence of most luxuries we Americans have begun to consider necessities. Instead we've found open arms, loving great-grandmothers, tightly knit families, and hard working individuals w/ their own luxuries to show for it - delicious homegrown foods, large front porches w/ swings to share, and the time and patience to stop and "literally smell the roses," as one student put it.
 |
| One of the host families: their teeny great babushka, me, their babushka, Pam, and their father |
I look around and don't see the poverty I was warned of, but instead simply see a different way of doing things and a lifestyle not entirely unlike that of rural America. And perhaps for good reason - those of you thinking HI is only out there feeding poverty-stricken areas couldn't be more mistaken. Although this is one important role of HI, they are also very involved in the advancement of agriculture technologies beyond meeting basic needs. In Vata, for example, there are currently three HI projects, including one to improve genetic selection and breeding systems via artificial insemination. Not that there isn't need for additional resources and education here but it is a far cry from the impoverished community of our expectations.
Hopefully, I'll be able to bring some of their graciousness and tranquility back home w/ me. At the very least, I'll remind myself to take time to relax on the porch and soak in the world around me.
4.25.2011
11.14.2010
might as well
I don't usually like 'real' things in my blog but it's Sunday so I thought I might as well preach.
To all the kids who "are just different" - typically the weird ones grow up to lead more interesting lives anyways. So keep an open mind and stay true to yourself. Once you can love yourself and start filling your own mold, you'll realize others' opinions and expectations don't matter so much. In the end you'll be fulfilled and happy, unlike the jerks attempting to build self-confidence by insulting others.
And to the jerks: work to get over your issues. And open your eyes. The world and humanity have so much weird and beautiful and amazing to offer, but you'll miss most of it if you let prejudices blind you.
It always shocks me to hear of ppl hurting others based on differences. Differences keep the world interesting. Without them we're all the same; and the same gets monotonous. But we get uncomfortable when someone pushes our boundaries or rearranges our system. We strike out because we don't want to admit our discomfort or challenge our mentality.
Maybe if we embrace the discomforts and put them out there, honest and vulnerable, we'll have an easier time at addressing and growing past them. Maybe honesty, love, and receptiveness - from all sides - are the way to go.
Now there's an idea.
To all the kids who "are just different" - typically the weird ones grow up to lead more interesting lives anyways. So keep an open mind and stay true to yourself. Once you can love yourself and start filling your own mold, you'll realize others' opinions and expectations don't matter so much. In the end you'll be fulfilled and happy, unlike the jerks attempting to build self-confidence by insulting others.
And to the jerks: work to get over your issues. And open your eyes. The world and humanity have so much weird and beautiful and amazing to offer, but you'll miss most of it if you let prejudices blind you.
It always shocks me to hear of ppl hurting others based on differences. Differences keep the world interesting. Without them we're all the same; and the same gets monotonous. But we get uncomfortable when someone pushes our boundaries or rearranges our system. We strike out because we don't want to admit our discomfort or challenge our mentality.
Maybe if we embrace the discomforts and put them out there, honest and vulnerable, we'll have an easier time at addressing and growing past them. Maybe honesty, love, and receptiveness - from all sides - are the way to go.
Now there's an idea.
11.05.2010
She does exist!
Yes, I'm still around. Actually still around and without much changed, i.e. no excuse for the recent posting-hiatus. Except for a bad case of writer's block that was delivered straight from the demons' hands of Land of Lame. I'm sitting at the same computer, in the same house and town, and w/ a job disturbingly similar to the woes of graduate research. Except much more enjoyable because I get to leave it all after 8 hours, and at the end of each week I get two f r e e days. Research free. Research-thinking free. Research-worrying free. Fantastic.
But apparently I have EVEN less inspiration for writing. I blame this on two things: 1. I graduated and thus have no more graduate-school angst to draw from. 2. I'm reading "On Writing Well," which is really an incredible book. W. Zinsser makes reading about writing (but excludes arithmetic*) actually entertaining. I look forward to reading it and have learned a lot. So a great experience, except...now I'm afraid to write. Because it will suck. And be too wordy. And there's already enough suck-y, wordy crap out there so why add more? Well because I can. And because I need practice writing something people may actually read (that's what makes it scary).
But that's enough for today.
The title's an M&M commercial reference, btw:
*Zing! This had me cracking up. And then I added the "zing;" it's nearly too much.
But apparently I have EVEN less inspiration for writing. I blame this on two things: 1. I graduated and thus have no more graduate-school angst to draw from. 2. I'm reading "On Writing Well," which is really an incredible book. W. Zinsser makes reading about writing (but excludes arithmetic*) actually entertaining. I look forward to reading it and have learned a lot. So a great experience, except...now I'm afraid to write. Because it will suck. And be too wordy. And there's already enough suck-y, wordy crap out there so why add more? Well because I can. And because I need practice writing something people may actually read (that's what makes it scary).
But that's enough for today.
The title's an M&M commercial reference, btw:
*Zing! This had me cracking up. And then I added the "zing;" it's nearly too much.
7.15.2010
Bottoms up
Let me paint last night's scene for you:
Day: July 14th, 2010. Evening. Stifling hot.
Setting: W. Lafayette, IN. Backyard-slash-jungle. Hammock. Sadly, there is no sign of a refreshing pool.
Dinner: A beer* and baked beans straight from their family-sized can. Not heated, not cooled, just straight.
Me: Lying in the hammock in red high school football shorts and a green bikini top circa 1992. Munching on my baked beans and sipping some beer.
You may find yourself wondering how I became so glamorous... I often wonder this myself.
*It wasn't actually a beer, but a Woodchuck. Beer paints a better picture though.
Day: July 14th, 2010. Evening. Stifling hot.
Setting: W. Lafayette, IN. Backyard-slash-jungle. Hammock. Sadly, there is no sign of a refreshing pool.
Dinner: A beer* and baked beans straight from their family-sized can. Not heated, not cooled, just straight.
Me: Lying in the hammock in red high school football shorts and a green bikini top circa 1992. Munching on my baked beans and sipping some beer.
You may find yourself wondering how I became so glamorous... I often wonder this myself.
No, this isn't my hammock. I just wanted you to think
the phrase "banana hammock" today.
*It wasn't actually a beer, but a Woodchuck. Beer paints a better picture though.
6.26.2010
Jay Z says it'll make me feel brand new
New York, that is. The Mama, sister, and I are headed that way this weekend. Ignore the composed use of periods, I'm very excited. (!!)
I'm trying to play it cool but the truth is I'm a bit worried. See, I've developed this self-deception that I'm quite the fashionista here in the Midwest. Charming, chic, and fierce are adjectives I readily use to describe myself.* Fact of the matter is, I'm afraid those suave NY'ers are going to serve me up a dose of reality with a smack of fabulous shoes and haircuts square to the face. The angst of it has me practically chewing my nails and rocking autistically.
So I decided I needed to demonstrate my class and convince you all (because, obviously, my 2 readers are in NY right now) of my stately style. To do so I have composed this photo:
Ah, and I've succeeded at amusing myself again. You're welcome for sharing this exemplary artwork with you.
One last thing, because Frank is the man:
*I hope you're comprehending the sarcasm here.
I'm trying to play it cool but the truth is I'm a bit worried. See, I've developed this self-deception that I'm quite the fashionista here in the Midwest. Charming, chic, and fierce are adjectives I readily use to describe myself.* Fact of the matter is, I'm afraid those suave NY'ers are going to serve me up a dose of reality with a smack of fabulous shoes and haircuts square to the face. The angst of it has me practically chewing my nails and rocking autistically.
So I decided I needed to demonstrate my class and convince you all (because, obviously, my 2 readers are in NY right now) of my stately style. To do so I have composed this photo:
Ah, and I've succeeded at amusing myself again. You're welcome for sharing this exemplary artwork with you.
One last thing, because Frank is the man:
*I hope you're comprehending the sarcasm here.
6.21.2010
that's Ms Master if ya nasty!
That's right, defense - check. I can now sign all my thank-you notes as: Name, M.Sc. If I was prone to d-baggery that is. But it is quite awesome to be done. And the night of my success was celebrated w/ friends while sporting my brand new t-shirt created by a fabulous lovie:
That's a Janet reference if you didn't catch it:
And of course the back:
"ANSC" is acronym for Animal Sciences because that's what my degree is in. We embrace our nerdiness to its very core. And of course "Hottie" is acronym for me. ...Ha. Hahaha. Sigh, I love when I crack myself up.
As you can imagine, there was a whole lot of this:
"No my name ain't baby. It's Stacey. Ms Masta if ya nasty!"
as the night and gin-induced haze became thicker.
Obviously I now have too much time on my hands, allowing my to tinker with my webcam. It's unfortunate that after all that tinkering I was still unable to take a decent photo... Alright, gotta go get my nasty groove on.
"That's MS Master if ur NASTY"
That's a Janet reference if you didn't catch it:
And of course the back:
"ANSC Hottie"
"ANSC" is acronym for Animal Sciences because that's what my degree is in. We embrace our nerdiness to its very core. And of course "Hottie" is acronym for me. ...Ha. Hahaha. Sigh, I love when I crack myself up.
As you can imagine, there was a whole lot of this:
"No my name ain't baby. It's Stacey. Ms Masta if ya nasty!"
as the night and gin-induced haze became thicker.
Obviously I now have too much time on my hands, allowing my to tinker with my webcam. It's unfortunate that after all that tinkering I was still unable to take a decent photo... Alright, gotta go get my nasty groove on.
6.08.2010
Check.
Write thesis - check. (Please, hold the applause.)
Which got me thinking: In a month's time, I'm not going to be a student anymore. Huh...
Which got me thinking: WTF am I going to be when I grow up?
So here are my top 5 (not in any particular order, although dancer is prob at the top...obviously I'm not taking a realistic stance here):
1. A dancer - contemporary, hip hop, jazz, pop and lockin', So You Think You Can Dance-style.
2. A rock star - KOL, Andrew Bird, TVOTR, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Killers, Animal Collective, Feist-style.
3. A professional activist - not the kind that just holds the picket signs and yells absurdities while tied to a tree; the bad-assery kind that actually gets things done, i.e. Harvey Milk-style or MLK, Jr.-style
4. A nomad - ...I don't have an example for this one
5. An author - honest, intelligent, eye opening, made me laugh, made me cry, didn't want it to end-style
Decisions, decisions.
Which got me thinking: In a month's time, I'm not going to be a student anymore. Huh...
Which got me thinking: WTF am I going to be when I grow up?
So here are my top 5 (not in any particular order, although dancer is prob at the top...obviously I'm not taking a realistic stance here):
1. A dancer - contemporary, hip hop, jazz, pop and lockin', So You Think You Can Dance-style.
2. A rock star - KOL, Andrew Bird, TVOTR, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Killers, Animal Collective, Feist-style.
3. A professional activist - not the kind that just holds the picket signs and yells absurdities while tied to a tree; the bad-assery kind that actually gets things done, i.e. Harvey Milk-style or MLK, Jr.-style
4. A nomad - ...I don't have an example for this one
5. An author - honest, intelligent, eye opening, made me laugh, made me cry, didn't want it to end-style
Decisions, decisions.
5.15.2010
just because
I don't have anything of importance to say. But here's another Florence + the Machine song you should become acquainted with:
And another one for good measure:
This is why I need to be a rock star. I already dance like this every morning in front of my mirror, but no one takes notice. If I was a rock star than I would get paid to do it in a room full of mirrors - How dope would that be?! (I don't know where "dope" came from...Sorry for the flashback.)
Some more dope dancing from Feist to illustrate my own (Imagine the skills required to do this without the moving walkway. Yeah, skillz.):
This, on the other hand, is NOT within the realm of my talent. Unfortunately...
Hell, I can't even compete w/ the 7-year olds:
(For the record, I don't think children should be taught to gyrate with such talent.)
And another one for good measure:
This is why I need to be a rock star. I already dance like this every morning in front of my mirror, but no one takes notice. If I was a rock star than I would get paid to do it in a room full of mirrors - How dope would that be?! (I don't know where "dope" came from...Sorry for the flashback.)
Some more dope dancing from Feist to illustrate my own (Imagine the skills required to do this without the moving walkway. Yeah, skillz.):
This, on the other hand, is NOT within the realm of my talent. Unfortunately...
Hell, I can't even compete w/ the 7-year olds:
(For the record, I don't think children should be taught to gyrate with such talent.)
4.28.2010
I love a medical mystery
I came across this story recently due to a mention in an Allure magazine. Brooke Greenberg is 16-years old in that she was born 16 years ago, but is only 2 1/2 feet tall, weighs 16 pounds, has 10-year old bones, 6-year old teeth, and a brain that is less than 1-year old. Due to a mutation in the genes controlling development and aging, her body is not developing as a whole unit but rather as bits and pieces aging at their own rate independent of each other. It's quite amazing.
(left to right) Older sisters, Caitlin, age 4, and Emily, 8, with Brooke, 1
Photo from Fox News.
(left to right) 11 years later, Brooke, now age 12, and younger sister Carly, 9.
Photo from ABC News.
You can go here for more photos. It's interesting to notice that in the photos where Brooke is 1-3ish years, she still has her baby fat, but as she's gotten older it seems as though she has thinned out and lost the baby fat (as you would expect any growing child to).
I think it's especially intriguing to hear her family describe her personality. Like this quote from her sister, Caitlin: She looks like a 6-month-old, but she kind of has a personality of a 16-year-old. [End quote] And reports from her mom about how she likes shopping and rock music. Now I'm no expert in babies, but it seems as though her mind is developed past that of a typical infant even though she is unable to voice it. Makes you wonder what she's thinking or if she is aware that, somehow, she is different from her sisters.
Also mind boggling is her ability to surpass health obstacles thrown her way. Such as seven perforated stomach ulcers, surviving a stroke with no apparent damage, and sleeping away a brain tumor (re: this article). Seems as though there's more than some unsynchronized development going on here.
Frankly, not only Brooke, but her family as well, is a novelty to society. They don't abandon her; they don't leave her w/ the nurses to go about their lives and play with all the other grown-ups. They stick by her side and love her for the person she is. "The Greenbergs take no vacations, have few nights out and involve Brooke in as many family activities as possible. 'To go to a swimming pool for the summer, or belong to a summer club ... we tried all those things, and it's lacking something,' her mother said. 'Brooke's not there. We're not a family without Brooke.' (re: this article)."
It's settled, Brooke and her family are awesome.
Brooke, age 16; mom, Melanie; dad, Howard; and sister Caitlin, 19.
Photo from Fox News.
Photo from Fox News.
And now I have to rant about some stupid people (Ok, they're probably not stupid, but they say some stupid things.).
First: A quote (re: this article) from Dr. Richard F Walker of Clinical Intervention in Aging: Brooke is a unique individual because she has a mutation in the developmental gene that prevents her from aging, and she’s in the developmental phase...There’s no hope for her, but what she brings to science is information on how we may be able to delay aging. [End quote]
Are we as a society actually so paranoid of growing old that the first thing we think of from Brooke's story is the Fountain of Youth*? Take a second to think about this. Brooke's genetic anomaly seems to be affecting, not aging, but her development, which is at the opposite end of the spectrum as aging. Her body doesn't enable her to walk, no coordination to dance or jump. Her brain doesn't allow her to learn higher levels of communication; she clearly has an evolving personality and preferences, but she can't speak about them or write them down or express these through sign language. Now, do we really want to dabble in these genetic mutations just so our skin stays smooth and our bodies remain enabled indefinitely? Maybe there's a reason for becoming old and decrepit and dying. Maybe it's the circle of life (yes, that was a Lion King reference). Maybe we should get over our mortality and accept it.
Second, and related to first, is Greg (I don't know Greg but I'm using his name because he did.), he left this comment on a 2005 blog post that was debating whether or not Brooke's story was a hoax (At that time there wasn't much media coverage.). Quoting Greg: If this girl really is a medical miracle then the human race deserves to have their best take a look. Genetic anomalies like this are probably rare and maybe would be hundreds of years to have another chance to study. [End quote] Really, Greg? Really?! The human race DESERVES to take a look. So are you saying we DESERVE to poke at every single abnormality out there, without considering the desires of the abnormality's owner, the PERSON? Really? If so, can we have our "best take a look" into how you came to make statements reeking of such douche-baggery?
Ok, I'm done ranting.
4.27.2010
is that hummus on my arse?
I just realized that I haven’t kept you, dear readers, updated on my Body-by-Glamour-destroy-my-lazy-and-gluttonous-ways affair (re: this post). Before I let you fool yourselves into thinking otherwise, this was completely intentional on my part. It’s been a bust. I think I kept with the program for approximately oh, a month, or say three to two-ish weeks, maybe. Now before you get all judgmental and squinty eyed and pointing fingers, just remember that I did warn you of the likelihood of this outcome. (And in my defense, I've been able to recommence my goals of sporting a teenage-boy body type simply by not caving to crazy emotional eating urges and by running and letting the wonders of yoga kick my ass.).
Ultimately I decided the whole B by G ordeal was too much effort, and I have much more important things to do… just take my word on that.
Another reason for the abandonment was that keeping track of calories made me think all the more about yummy food. And aside from that becoming quite annoying, it is, in fact, the opposite of ideal for weight loss. MSN concurs. See, they gathered all of their internet scientists* and came up with this article** that tells you how to think yourself skinny. For example, MSN specialists* report that skinny people take a care-free approach to eating and food – they just don’t really think about it and so their schedules are not contingent on where their next meal will come from. In dire contrast, chunkers think about food and eating constantly – whether they’re having too much, what’s good, what’s bad, too much fat, too sugary, too salty, not enough fiber, blah blah blah (Annoying already, eh?). The solution? Be care-free! Think like the skinny people and the world will finally be right!
Skinnies, again according to the authority* of MSN, take that same care-free approach and apply it to hunger. Stomach growling? Not a big deal! McDonalds is waiting right around the corner with a Big Mac to fulfill those familiar pangs. OK, so probably not the go-to answer for skinnies, but the point is that they know they’ll get fed at some point so it’s not imperative to address the rumbly in the tumbly right away. Chunkers, on the other hand, feel it necessary to rush to answer the stomach’s beck and call.
For example, that’s what happened to me after I went grocery shopping this evening. In all honesty, I went brownie and vanilla ice cream shopping because that’s what the stomach growls have been requesting ever since a certain hormonal rage reared its ugly head. However, upon entering the grocery store I was coerced into participating in the tangled web of marketing and bright packaging and so was forced to browse the aisles. And thank my lucky stars I did because, low and behold, hummus – ONE dollar (If you do not know, hummus typically costs 4ish dollars plus your firstborn, so this was quite the find.). You can bet I loaded up. And then I predictably had to pick up some pita bread for the delicious hummus and veggie sandwiches that follow this sort of discovery. Eventually I found the brownies and ice cream and made it out the door.
I was planning on running and yoga-ing once I got home, but I had to do a couple other errands first. Being the smart cookie that I am, I decided to gnaw on some pita and hummus whilst fulfilling these burdensome responsibilities. That way when I got home I wouldn’t be hungry, the food would be digested, and I would be able to slip into my running shoes and take off like a gazelle.
So I tore into the hummus and pita while driving around. Nyum nyum nyum.
I got to my office and ran in to retrieve some things when I noticed that the butt of my pants felt a bit moist. So I wiped my hand down my backside and what did I find? Why, a glob of hummus of course. If you haven't been acquanted with hummus, it is a creamy consistency and tan in color. So a glob of hummus may in some ways resemble a glob of yummy tan poo. On my ass. Hawt.
Now if I would’ve taken the MSN skinny approach I wouldn’t have felt the burning need to answer those nagging hunger pangs, as soon as possible, in my car while driving down the highway; and I would have successfully walked through the hallways without hummus on my arse. And maybe it would become a habit for me to be care-free about food and hunger, and I would one day be effortlessly thin. But then I wouldn’t have produced this awesome blog post, and you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to waste five minutes. Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me.
In case you were wondering, I also made the brownies this evening. And they were remarkable in all of their melted-ice-cream-and-brownie-goo glory. AND they were successful at chasing away the irrationally rageful lady hormones. Two points, brownies. Zero points, Body by Glamour and MSN experts*.
Ultimately I decided the whole B by G ordeal was too much effort, and I have much more important things to do… just take my word on that.
Another reason for the abandonment was that keeping track of calories made me think all the more about yummy food. And aside from that becoming quite annoying, it is, in fact, the opposite of ideal for weight loss. MSN concurs. See, they gathered all of their internet scientists* and came up with this article** that tells you how to think yourself skinny. For example, MSN specialists* report that skinny people take a care-free approach to eating and food – they just don’t really think about it and so their schedules are not contingent on where their next meal will come from. In dire contrast, chunkers think about food and eating constantly – whether they’re having too much, what’s good, what’s bad, too much fat, too sugary, too salty, not enough fiber, blah blah blah (Annoying already, eh?). The solution? Be care-free! Think like the skinny people and the world will finally be right!
Skinnies, again according to the authority* of MSN, take that same care-free approach and apply it to hunger. Stomach growling? Not a big deal! McDonalds is waiting right around the corner with a Big Mac to fulfill those familiar pangs. OK, so probably not the go-to answer for skinnies, but the point is that they know they’ll get fed at some point so it’s not imperative to address the rumbly in the tumbly right away. Chunkers, on the other hand, feel it necessary to rush to answer the stomach’s beck and call.
For example, that’s what happened to me after I went grocery shopping this evening. In all honesty, I went brownie and vanilla ice cream shopping because that’s what the stomach growls have been requesting ever since a certain hormonal rage reared its ugly head. However, upon entering the grocery store I was coerced into participating in the tangled web of marketing and bright packaging and so was forced to browse the aisles. And thank my lucky stars I did because, low and behold, hummus – ONE dollar (If you do not know, hummus typically costs 4ish dollars plus your firstborn, so this was quite the find.). You can bet I loaded up. And then I predictably had to pick up some pita bread for the delicious hummus and veggie sandwiches that follow this sort of discovery. Eventually I found the brownies and ice cream and made it out the door.
I was planning on running and yoga-ing once I got home, but I had to do a couple other errands first. Being the smart cookie that I am, I decided to gnaw on some pita and hummus whilst fulfilling these burdensome responsibilities. That way when I got home I wouldn’t be hungry, the food would be digested, and I would be able to slip into my running shoes and take off like a gazelle.
So I tore into the hummus and pita while driving around. Nyum nyum nyum.
I got to my office and ran in to retrieve some things when I noticed that the butt of my pants felt a bit moist. So I wiped my hand down my backside and what did I find? Why, a glob of hummus of course. If you haven't been acquanted with hummus, it is a creamy consistency and tan in color. So a glob of hummus may in some ways resemble a glob of yummy tan poo. On my ass. Hawt.
Now if I would’ve taken the MSN skinny approach I wouldn’t have felt the burning need to answer those nagging hunger pangs, as soon as possible, in my car while driving down the highway; and I would have successfully walked through the hallways without hummus on my arse. And maybe it would become a habit for me to be care-free about food and hunger, and I would one day be effortlessly thin. But then I wouldn’t have produced this awesome blog post, and you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to waste five minutes. Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me.
In case you were wondering, I also made the brownies this evening. And they were remarkable in all of their melted-ice-cream-and-brownie-goo glory. AND they were successful at chasing away the irrationally rageful lady hormones. Two points, brownies. Zero points, Body by Glamour and MSN experts*.
*If you haven't picked up on my sarcasm yet, I don't give much credit to the expertise of MSN articles.
**This article does actually have a few interesting points, though I can think of lots of people that don't fit their descriptions of skinnies and chunkers. Hmm...goes to show we weren't made from cookie cutters.
4.18.2010
P-R-O-C-R-A-S-T-I-N-A-T-E spells:
So if no other good comes of writing this thesis, at least it has provided me with sufficient voids of procrastination to be filled with grandiose explorations into various websites. This greatly speaks of the pure quantity of procrastination going into this endeavor, because I usually don't have nearly enough energy to force myself to focus on items I've dubbed inconsequential to my survival (say, for example, tacos) for more than a few seconds, minutes max. But place a daunting task in front of me involving hours of sitting and reading and ruminating and writing and deleting and rewording and more ruminating, and apparently I'm all ears (Figuratively speaking of course, as I am typically reading these items-by-which-to-procrastinate.).
Here I will provide you with some recent developments (Hold on to your hats!):
1.
This video:
about this blog's subsequent book:
1000awesomethings.com
Upon coming across this I initially, and understandably, thought, "Ah, how nice to finally receive some recognition." Much to my dismay, however, the author has failed to devise a post about me.
No, but seriously, how adorable is that song and its story? I usually gag in response to matters this adorable, but this one may have actually caused me to squeal in delight.
TWO (and a half).
This trailer:
Because I particularly love watching awkward social situations played out onscreen; second only to seeing them played out in real life.
Oh, and this delicious film of awkward is about the going-ons of Davy Rothbart and his FOUND magazine, which also proves to be quite entertaining.
(One and two were discovered whilst carousing the new PostSecrets.)
Thrice.
This guy has multi-strain resistant TB that he contracted while tramping around S America. He's been in quarantine since December 9, 2009 and has since been dutifully providing us with online entertainment. Plus he's Australian which takes me back to my days in Brisbane, by the ocean, drinking boxed wine, not writing a thesis...
You should watch this one: Life in Quarantine
Or this one: F* you, I'm a Ukelele
They're prob my faves.
Quatro.
This song rawks:
Apparently this vid is a recent remake though (which has left snobby music fans with their panties all in a twist (according to youtube comments)...perhaps I'll post a rant about obnoxious music snobs some other day.), but you can check out the original one here: bad-assery. I must admit to enjoying the original better; though that doesn't mean you have to. Regardless, I dare you not to wave your hands around as you shimmy your hips to this one.
Finito:
This post has made me realize that I've failed to post much original material lately; recent posts have mainly equated to synopses of others' talent (Let me say post one more time: post.). Sigh, that makes me sad.
Here I will provide you with some recent developments (Hold on to your hats!):
1.
This video:
about this blog's subsequent book:
1000awesomethings.com
Upon coming across this I initially, and understandably, thought, "Ah, how nice to finally receive some recognition." Much to my dismay, however, the author has failed to devise a post about me.
No, but seriously, how adorable is that song and its story? I usually gag in response to matters this adorable, but this one may have actually caused me to squeal in delight.
TWO (and a half).
This trailer:
Because I particularly love watching awkward social situations played out onscreen; second only to seeing them played out in real life.
Oh, and this delicious film of awkward is about the going-ons of Davy Rothbart and his FOUND magazine, which also proves to be quite entertaining.
(One and two were discovered whilst carousing the new PostSecrets.)
Thrice.
This guy has multi-strain resistant TB that he contracted while tramping around S America. He's been in quarantine since December 9, 2009 and has since been dutifully providing us with online entertainment. Plus he's Australian which takes me back to my days in Brisbane, by the ocean, drinking boxed wine, not writing a thesis...
You should watch this one: Life in Quarantine
Or this one: F* you, I'm a Ukelele
They're prob my faves.
Quatro.
This song rawks:
Apparently this vid is a recent remake though (which has left snobby music fans with their panties all in a twist (according to youtube comments)...perhaps I'll post a rant about obnoxious music snobs some other day.), but you can check out the original one here: bad-assery. I must admit to enjoying the original better; though that doesn't mean you have to. Regardless, I dare you not to wave your hands around as you shimmy your hips to this one.
Finito:
This post has made me realize that I've failed to post much original material lately; recent posts have mainly equated to synopses of others' talent (Let me say post one more time: post.). Sigh, that makes me sad.
4.09.2010
I don't know what it is...
But I love this band.
I have this nagging feeling though, whilst rocking out to their anthem, that I may be enjoying it a bit too much and that perhaps they're not really all that great. Maybe they do have just another recycled garage sound, but something about hearing their angsty lyrics and grungy vocals and I warp back to high school; and I've got the windows rolled down in my 4-speed tercel, the radio is up as loud as it goes (i.e. not loud), and my single responsibility is jamming while driving down country roads juxtaposed only to cornfields. Not a care in the world but which cornfield we're going to drink bad beer in during the upcoming weekend or "Hmmm..maybe I should highlight my hair tonight." And I can legitimately laugh at all the grown-ups when they ask what I'm going to do when I grow up; because, c'mon, I'm in high school and driving a tomato red tercel, careers are the last thing on my mind.
I have this nagging feeling though, whilst rocking out to their anthem, that I may be enjoying it a bit too much and that perhaps they're not really all that great. Maybe they do have just another recycled garage sound, but something about hearing their angsty lyrics and grungy vocals and I warp back to high school; and I've got the windows rolled down in my 4-speed tercel, the radio is up as loud as it goes (i.e. not loud), and my single responsibility is jamming while driving down country roads juxtaposed only to cornfields. Not a care in the world but which cornfield we're going to drink bad beer in during the upcoming weekend or "Hmmm..maybe I should highlight my hair tonight." And I can legitimately laugh at all the grown-ups when they ask what I'm going to do when I grow up; because, c'mon, I'm in high school and driving a tomato red tercel, careers are the last thing on my mind.
Check out the doughnut tires!... I miss the doughnut tires!
Oh, nostalgia, you're not helping me write this thesis. Le sigh.
4.01.2010
I said darlin' why so blue?
If you're feeling as bitchy as me today, turn up the volume, bob your head to the beat, and start jammin'...It's good.
Ah, give it up for tiny under-age boys rocking it out. I mean, if they can live their dream, surely you and I can too, right?
Now - you shake.
3.29.2010
I heart to fart. I heart him too.
Disclaimer: Bodily functions discussed in this post. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.
So anyways, a long-time SO – I think I’ve found one.
“Gasp! How can you say such things, oh great Blogger?!” you ask.
Well, because. It’s all very logical you see. I happen to have a crappy colon (Teehee, pun intended.), which the all-knowing M.D.s have all-knowingly dubbed “IBS,” i.e. “You have a crappy colon that doesn’t function correctly and we don’t know why but we’ll blame stress.” So, if I may be frank, I’m quite the gassy individual. And a good fart to me is like good sssssssssstrawberry shortcake (Gotcha with that one, didn’t I?).
“OK, all-knowing Blogger, where is the logic?” you ask.
Simple: I can fart around this long-time SO candidate. And I’m not talking dainty, girly farts smelling of roses and butterflies, I’m talking a fart of mass-destructive powers; farts that clear the room every time, and clear the room for at least 20 – 30 minutes, minimum; farts that could bring down Zeus. Yeah, they’re serious. And I decided awhile back I shouldn't waste my time with an SO who I couldn’t comfortably fart around; because, honestly, if I had to hold them in I think my guts would spontaneously combust (There’s a reason that stuff needs to leave your body.).
And, really, if you’re going to shoot for almost-forever, a fart-tolerator is much more practical than a flower-buyer. Because flowers die way before forever, but as long as my crappy colon stays with me (which I’m guessing will be forever in all ways relevant to my earthly existence), I’m pretty sure my awesome farts will accompany me on all of my dates. Plus I think inappropriate bodily functions are funny; and I like an SO I can laugh with.
So, it’s settled, I can fart big nasty farts while sitting next to him and he just makes a you’re-so-gross face and then we make out. Yes, prime candidate.
I’ve found a candidate for an SO (aka Significant Other) who may be around for…a long time. I don’t say things like “forever” because I think it’s silly to make plans with “forever” in mind. I mean, you should consider that your “forever” may develop schizophrenia in its 20’s. And lots of “forevers” die of malaria. And some “forevers” have unfortunate bungee jumping experiences. And lions and bears sometimes eat “forevers.” Makes you rethink “forever” a bit, doesn’t it?
So anyways, a long-time SO – I think I’ve found one.
“Gasp! How can you say such things, oh great Blogger?!” you ask.
Well, because. It’s all very logical you see. I happen to have a crappy colon (Teehee, pun intended.), which the all-knowing M.D.s have all-knowingly dubbed “IBS,” i.e. “You have a crappy colon that doesn’t function correctly and we don’t know why but we’ll blame stress.” So, if I may be frank, I’m quite the gassy individual. And a good fart to me is like good sssssssssstrawberry shortcake (Gotcha with that one, didn’t I?).
“OK, all-knowing Blogger, where is the logic?” you ask.
Simple: I can fart around this long-time SO candidate. And I’m not talking dainty, girly farts smelling of roses and butterflies, I’m talking a fart of mass-destructive powers; farts that clear the room every time, and clear the room for at least 20 – 30 minutes, minimum; farts that could bring down Zeus. Yeah, they’re serious. And I decided awhile back I shouldn't waste my time with an SO who I couldn’t comfortably fart around; because, honestly, if I had to hold them in I think my guts would spontaneously combust (There’s a reason that stuff needs to leave your body.).
And, really, if you’re going to shoot for almost-forever, a fart-tolerator is much more practical than a flower-buyer. Because flowers die way before forever, but as long as my crappy colon stays with me (which I’m guessing will be forever in all ways relevant to my earthly existence), I’m pretty sure my awesome farts will accompany me on all of my dates. Plus I think inappropriate bodily functions are funny; and I like an SO I can laugh with.
So, it’s settled, I can fart big nasty farts while sitting next to him and he just makes a you’re-so-gross face and then we make out. Yes, prime candidate.
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