Twenty-five on the 28th

Nope, that's not my age or my birthday.  Darn. I'm going to take a page from the US Weekly magazine and tell you 25 random things that you don't want to know about me.  You're welcome...Christmas has come early. 

1.  I love celebrity gossip magazines.  To me celebrities are not real people.  Maybe it's because we've never met (unless you count Marie Osmond and at the time I didn't even know who she was) or maybe it's because I'm shocked that they behave in such un-human like way. Some people are smart and perform experiments or create scientific theories.  Nope, not me.  I have however, created a strict hierarchy of gossip magazines  (no, I'm not a subscriber..the hubs isn't a fan).  People.  US Weekly.  In Touch.  Life and Style.  Memorize that list in that specific order.  This gem of wisdom will change your life. 

2.  I don't like to eat other people's food unless I know them or someone else that I know well knows them.  Odd.  Not sure who I can blame this on yet, but give me a few years and I'll find a scapegoat.  Sometimes, I'll have the hubs taste something so that I can go back and tell the person that it was good.  Don't worry if you're reading this blog, I probably know you well enough that I'll eat your food.

3.  One of my nicknames is Leach (as in a leech..nicknamed by my family and no, they've never won any spelling bees).  

4.  Speaking of my name...it's L-E-I-G-H. Not Leah, or Lei.  As a child, someone mispronouncing my name would send me into hysterics.  Now, it's something that I find comical...especially after they've already been corrected 5,671 times. 

5.  I'm still afraid of the dark.  Sometimes the hubs will shut off the lights in the room and be very still and quiet.  I immediately start screaming and he immediately starts laughing.

6.  I forgot to wear a bra once to college...the hubs had to bring it to me.  Not that anyone would have noticed..I'm not exactly Dolly Parton in that department.

7. I have a syndrome called guilt gut...

8. It's my dream to live on the same plot of land as my parents.  Can you say free groceries and therapy?!

9. I have no rhythm.  None, notta, zip, zilch.  Not only do I have two left feet...I also cannot tap my foot to the beat of the music. The hubs is so proud.  He loves to have me demonstrate my talent in front of others.  And some never thought I'd be considered a trophy wife. Ha. Eat that for breakfast.

10. My favorite movie is Goonies.  "Sloth love Chunk".

11.  I've only been skiing once and it took me all night to make it up the rope pull.  My arms would move forward and my butt would move backward. 

12.  I peed my pants at a sleepover in the 5th grade.  Yep, I said 5th grade.  I guess I was really into the party.

13.  I didn't know what the phrase, "is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me," meant until I was 20 years old.

14. I am a infomercial junkie. Instead of watching cartoons as a I child, I would get up early to watch infomercials on Saturdays. My favorites were the Snackmaster 2000 and the Ron Popeil Pastamaker.

15.  I never liked the New Kids on the Block.

16.  I made up a rap as a child...Lyrics included: My name is Leigh and I'm here to say.... I love fruity pebbles in a very special way....hey caterpillar, caterpillar can you give me a hand...yo, I'm not a one man band.

17.  I can't say "free throw" in repetition.  Another one of the hubs pastimes involves asking me to say the phrase 5x's fast.  Usually it ends up coming out as "three fro".

19.  According to "some people" I have a mid west accent. Don't get me riled up.

20. I get embarrassed for people sometimes and have to leave the room.

21. I used to practice my kissing skills on the wall.  I wanted to have a spectacular first kiss like in soap operas (I can guarantee that my mom is cringing as she reads this).

22. I have never broken a bone in my body; however, I used to ride my bike around the neighborhood with my arm in a sling so people would feel sorry for me.  What can I say, I'm #5 out of 6 kids and I needed some attention.

23. I got sent to the principal's office in the 1st grade for kicking some 2nd grade boys "where the sun don't shine."  If you don't know what that means ask your mom.

24.  I wanted to name my baby brother Butch (short for Butchie Boo)... surprisingly, they decided to go with Kyle instead.

25.   Sometimes I air punch as a I'm running....yes, I'm that cool.


Until next time.....

Theme Song Edition

I ran 6 miles today and man, did I feel like an old lady at the ripe old age of 31  30.  That or the scale is lying and I weigh over 300 lbs...I just didn't feel like I was moving very fast.  As a result, I had plenty of time to think.  Who's afraid of being left alone with their own thoughts???? ME!

 

Lucky for me, I had my trusty iphone that supplied me with endless fist pumping beats (I made up raps as a child...let me know if you care to hear my demo tape...$9.95 and sorry, no CODs).  Even with Miley Cyrus blaring in my ears, those darn thoughts started creeping up and got me thinking that each and every person in the whole wide world should have their own theme song.  I mean couples have their own songs, why can't an individual have their very own song??  As I huffed and puffed and moved my crippled body along the back roads of our small town, I contemplated what my song would be....

I'm Every Woman--Whitney Houston

For the Love of Money (Money, Money, Moneeyyyyy)-- The O'Jays

Baby Got Back--Sir Mixalot

Hands down, I think it would be Graduate by Third Eye Blind.. I apologize in advance, there are some inappropriate words expressed during this song, but as I discussed in my last blog I'm a pro at plugging my ears. Not gonna lie, there are days were I wonder if I'll ever grow up and make something of myself. Stay tuned...but until then, I'll just fake it 'til I make it.  (I think that might be Obama's slogan too)

Seriously, How Do I Get Myself Into This Mess????

The answer is...it's all me.  Yep, my life is anything, if not, comical.  Oh, and there's a whole lot of awesomeness going on here.  How do I know?  My mom.  She is always my biggest cheerleader.  I can still hear her in the stands screaming "Allllll riiiiighhht."  Aren't I lucky to have such a great mama???? Yep.  The verdicts still out on what kind of mom I'll be... If my children are anything like me, it's likely I'll be plugging my ears as they "attempt" to participate in a sporting activity.  I cannot handle the drama.  Once, my manager "accidentally" cut a fellow employee's hair with scissors while we were playing around at work... Immediately, I ran into the office area and crawled underneath my desk...got into the fetal position..rocked back and forth...and plugged my ears. I was scared of a throw down, but lucky for my manager we're all bffs and even have the necklaces to prove it.

Speaking of friends, I have great friends...all four of them.  My hubs and family members are great as well.  They are my favorite people in the world. You could say I'm a little bit obsessed with them..it maybe borderline unhealthy, but I don't care.  Now, I may just be really gullible, but I always assume two things about my friends and family.

1.  They love me no matter what and

2.  Our relationships reside in a judgement free zone

But, let's be honest...sometimes they have to be thinking "what in the world was Leigh thinking?"  For instance, my recent decision to get my hair cut at WALMART.  Yup, you read that right, WALMART (or as my G.G would say WALMARK).  The hubs told me not to, but I thought I'd try to save a buck or two.  My bad, I assumed everyone knew that before one uses a hair straightener, the hair must be dried all the way.  That would be a negative.  Not to mention my sweeping side bags are now very abrupt and blunt.  I can now feather them if I want to... I had similar bangs in 3rd grade.  I texted one of my bffs and said omg (oh.my.goodness) you won't believe my latest schemes to save money..I got my hair trimmed at Wally World.  She lol'd.  I could feel her camaraderie over the text and I knew she loved me all the same.

Then there was the time when I went for a pedicure with a friend and neglected to shave my legs for a few days beforehand.  I believe it was a 4 day streak of not shaving.  It dawned on me right when the pedicurist began massaging my appallingly long leg hairs.  AWKWARD.  In the words, of one of my nephews who is way cooler than me...EPIC FAIL.

Or the time that I thought Liz Claibourne was the same person as Elizabeth Taylor.  Nope...two totally different people.  Mind = blown.  Although in my defense, I think both of their clothing lines are in the same department store section...that would be in the old lady, overpriced section.

Another personal favorite scenario involved me giving away $300 to a random stranger.  Supposedly, (I'd still like to believe it wasn't a scam) she was stranded and pregnant.  After hearing her sob story, I went right into help mode.  I walked right up to an ATM and asked her how much she needed for a two hour cab ride home(yes, alarms should have been going off in my head, but they did not).  $300 was her response....and since, I had never taken a cab ride I was none the wiser.  Looking back that "cab ride" better have had a jacuzzi tub and a flat screen.  Who knows what she actually spent it on?!  Some people play the lottery(the hubs says the lottery is a tax for stupid people), not me I just give my $$ away to fake pregnant women.  To each their own.

Until next time....

Flashback Friday...What, What!!

I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, I was such a gem as a child (not to be mistaken for Jem the animated character who is was once my animated hero..image from: here).

 

And now onto the flashback festivities..complete with real life quotes that I made up on a rainy Friday afternoon.  Don't be jealous that you're life isn't as cool as mine.  

Happy Friday!!!

For All That's Good and Holy....

Talk about disrupting a routine, WEtv and Hallmark have done a number on me.  I think many will be blown away by this, but I don't watch t.v all day long.  Probably just an hour or two at the most. Even at 30 yrs old I still make my mom proud...I was a television junkie as a child.  Cartoons, game shows, soap operas (Days of Our Lives..woot, woot...but not approved by my mamacita), and sitcoms.  The addiction must have gotten bad enough because my mom used a "special" lock on the tv to prevent us from over watching.  Today, she'd be reported to CPS for that one.  And even with all that television, I'm quite certain I got more exercise than kids today (FYI:  According to the CDC, obesity has more than tripled in the past 30 yrs and in 2008 more than 1/3 of the children in the United States were classified as either overweight or obese).

I go to great efforts in order to fit in my favorite show, the Golden Girls, into my grueling schedule as a childless, stay-at- home-wife.  Props to me.  There are fewer things in my life that make me happier than hearing.... "Thank you for being a friend, traveled down the road and back again...Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant."  Not gonna lie, sometimes I fantasize about being old and living with a bunch of my good girlfriends and the trouble that we get into.  It'd be fun for a while... maybe my hubs could be our pool/lawn boy?  Guessing he wouldn't go for that, but I'll ask.  Stay tuned.  Due to a recent event involving the Golden Girls, my life has spiraled out of control.  Used to be that Golden Girls played every Monday evening on WEtv and then every morning on Hallmark (yes, I am pitiful).  In a world full of turmoil, (like will Kim Kardashian marry the ever humble Kanye West or is Lance Armstrong really a doper???)  I need some darn consistency in my life.  No such luck.  First, WEtv replaced my beloved G.Gs with Roseanne....Then Hallmark replaced them with Marie Osmond's talk show.... no bueno.  I've got nothing but love for a fellow Mormon, but that was the nail in the coffin for me.  As you can imagine, I'm currently trying to pick up the pieces after such devastating news.  There's probably a support group out there to cope with this.  I'll google it and get back to you.

Until next time...

If you could be any Golden Girl, who would you be?
 

Peanut Butter and Conditioner... A Winning Combo

Or not so much.... In 6th grade, my sister suggested that I lather my hair in peanut butter to help increase moisture and shine in my hair.  Looking back, I think I thought if I had nicer hair it might help land me a cute boy.  No dice...have you seen pictures of me from middle school??  I was ugly, and I'm not just saying that...just ask the hubs he will tell the truth.  Now, I think I'm fairly attractive, but back then I had nothing going on for me other than my witty/quirky personality.  Anyway, so I did as she said and coated my hair in PB...so much that it looks like a jar of peanut butter had thrown up all over my head.  Don't fret, I was smart enough not to use crunchy peanut butter.  I let it marinate overnight and then woke up late the next morning and was rushing around like a girl that lives in crazytown (oh, wait that's where I'm currently residing...just ask my family/close friends as of late).  Instead of washing it out with shampoo, I grabbed the conditioner bottle (please do not ask me what my ACT score was...).  My hair was wet when I went to school....and I figured it would eventually dry.

(Side Note:  My Mom went to work at some awful hour before school and my Dad might have thought it was a new trend... I think most Dads don't want to upset a 12 yr old late bloomer blossoming flower like myself).   

It never dried because it was still marinating in a quart of peanut oil.  During 3rd hour LaTonya T.  said, "What do you have a hangover or something?!"  Being the innocent and naive girl that I am was I had no idea what a hangover was.  After LaTonya (and no that is not a made up name to protect the innocent) explained to me that a hangover was a result of drinking too much... I was baffled.  I wasn't old enough to drink... but I guess I was old enough to look like I had downed a fifth of hard liquor the night before.

(Side Note:  I just found out last year what a fifth of alcohol was from a co-worker...Why you ask??? Because one of my clients was downing a fifth on a regular basis... I guess I didn't see what the big deal was because I thought it was 1/5 of a cup.  Wrong.... it's 1/5 of a gallon.  Wowzer, but after living in DC I know why people drink).

And just so you don't think I was a total dirtbag back then, please note I came straight home and washed my hair. 

And I do still listen to my sister for beauty advice...

Here's to a great week....hopefully better than last week. :)

DC Shopping Dress Code...One Step Down From a Black Tie Affair

Yet another DC gem and this one involves furniture shopping...good times at Ethan Allen. With a pocket full of $$$ we set out on an adventure to transform our apartment from college eclectic (aka garage sale decor) to young professional chic (we have some extra cash, but are too poor for pottery barn or even ikea). When living in a urban environment, you are forced to shop at stores based on proximity due to:

1) Extreme laziness (In my opinion, this should be an Olympic sport...not sure if it'd be in the winter or summer games though)

2) Too much traffic rage to venture out to the burbs

And for us that was Ethan Allen.  I had seen commercials on television and didn't think it was anything fancy smancy, but apparently I missed the memo that this is indeed an up scale establishment (I thought that was reserved to the MickeyD's with indoor playgrounds). We walked in and were not greeted for at least 10 minutes. No--- heeeeyyyy y'all or what can I do ya fer today. Last time I checked DC is below the mason-dixie line and I expected some darn southern hospitality.  No dice.  It turns out DC is in its own little world of hostile and snooty. Jackpot!! Wow, in the words or Frank Barone from Everybody Loves Raymond, "what contest in heck did I win?"

"Uuuummmmmm, is there something I can help you with?!" said the guy in the plaid shirt and checkered pants.... I wanted to say looks like you need more help than we do, but decided against it because he could go all DC gangsta on me and bust a cap in my behind (I'm assuming a cap is a bullet, but correct me if I"m wrong). We explained we were looking for a bookshelf and you would have thought we were speaking Pig Latin (going to brag on my mama here...she was president of the Latin Club in high school) or that we had asked a New Yorker where to get Chicago-Style pizza (which so happens to be better).  He just had this look of complete disbelief on his face.  I think the problem was our clothes.  We were fresh off the boat road from a little place I like to call heaven on earth, AKA INDIANA and weren't aware that going shopping in DC meant you needed to be dressed to the nines.  In my defense, I was wearing my best black workout pants.  I guess beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder.

We left outta there pretty quick and decided to make our buck stretch a whole lot further at my second favorite place on earth, Costco.  Buying in bulk just puts a smile on my face and their furniture deals are pretty good too...we purchased an entertainment center, a bookshelf, and end table for less than $700 and love them.  After scoring that deal I kinda felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (don't worry mom, I saw the edited version on t.v) and wanted to go back in there and wave the money at the Ethan Allen guy so he could have known the big $ commission he missed out on (Truth: it was probably enough to cover a 1/8 of his rent).

Good times.  I learned a very valuable lesson that you must dress to impress.

Peace out and have a fantastic week.

P.S--I start my new job tomorrow.  Here we go again...heaven help me.

Excuses are Like ______ Every Woman Has Some.

Feel free to fill in the blanks there...my word of choice and tonight's topic is cellulite.  It creeps up on you faster than a government employee at a table of freebies.  This topic is on my mind a lot....okay, not enough that I lay off the chips and ice cream, but enough to make me feel bad.  People assume that just because you're skinny means you are cellulite free.  And I'm here to tell you it's not true.  No matter what the air-brushed celebrity on the magazine cover promises you, don't buy any of that propaganda. 

The Truth (and I'm no expert...this is from a hard core scientific source called webmd)

It looks like hail damage or a drive-by has just taken place on your backside, but what is it?

"Cellulite is caused by fat deposits that sit side-by-side with tough collagen fibers that are anchored to the muscle beneath. When the fibers pull tight, or the fatty areas grow larger, the fat deposits may bulge out.  Cellulite is related to the structures within the skin, so even slender women are likely to have some cellulite. And if thin skin runs in your family, the cellulite you have will be more visible."


Don't you feel smarter now that webmd has dropped some knowledge on you?!  And it gets better...wait for it.....

"Cellulite is much more common in women than in men."
 Really?!  Doesn't the whole pregnancy/child birthing thing give us a free pass on the cellulite card??? Nope, the cards are stacked against us.

Aside from eating better and exercising or having too much money, I don't think there's much we can do...I say we suck it up and embrace it...make it a new fashion statement and take over the world. Who's with me?  No pictures please, I've got my own [cellulite].

Quote of the Day:
“Do you know what’s also a shame? When you sit down and your thighs squish out to twice their size. That’s a shame.”- Rose Nylund





 

I'll Take That as a Compliment...I think

Went to the doctor's office today because my allergies have been KILLING me, not to mention making me less pleasant to be around (who am I kidding?!  I have zero local friends.  Don't worry, Ma, I have 271 real friends on facebook).  This was my first date encounter with this specific nurse practitioner and like any other professional in the health care field she was direct and to the point (that's how I like my hairdressers not my medical advisers).  Came right in and said, "Wow, you look like an athlete (I wasn't even wearing sweatpants with one leg pulled up), are you athletic?"  The voice in my head said "Not unless you count the time I played catcher for slow pitch girls softball." And FYI--you've got to be pretty darn bad if you play catcher in slow pitch.  My parents paid for me to play each year in the city league and I loved every minute of it (and I'm sure they were embarrassed every minute of it by my lack of skills..I threw a softball like you would a chest pass in b-ball).  I just wish they would have played a little extra $$$ for me to play a more admirable position like shortstop or 2nd base.  NO DICE. 

Now, back to my story.... My real voice said, "Nope, but I jog." She seemed satisfied with my response and moved right along with questions regarding the color of my snot.  I got hung up on what at first seemed like a compliment, but I realized it was just an observation on her part that I looked like a flat-chested 12 yr old boy.  Flashback to 6th grade.  Dun...dun.duuuuuuun.... A teacher had asked me to deliver a note to 7th grade teacher on the floor above.  No problemo, I'm great at delivering messages, but not so great at looking like a girl.  I was wearing a nice floral print dress royal blue (matching) sweatshirt and pants outfit that I spiced up with a little red puffy paint across the chest that read U-S-A (I'm singing Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA as I type this)... While in transit, I passed two, 7th graders and I heard one ask the other, "Was that a boy or a girl?"  Talk about blow to the ego, I thought I was a trendsetter.  Lets' be honest, I was sporting the Demi Moore haircut from Ghost and that probably wasn't helping the situation... nor did it ever get me a date with Patrick Swayze.

Don't worry, I nipped that session of self reflection in the bud right away and repeated 10x's what I tell myself every morning in front of the mirror.

Work, turn to the left, work, now turn to the right
Work, Sashay! Shante!

Please let me know if you need me to translate the above...I realize this supermodel talk.

A Hot Mess

And I'm not talking about Prince Harry or Lindsey Lohan....I'm referring to yours truly.  My mind seems to be recovering from my DC debacle learning experience; however, the body ain't fairing (love the country talk?) too well.  Went to the physical therapist this past week to figure out why I keep getting stress fractures in my right tibia and he so kindly pointed out the following that is affecting my gait....

A mild curve in my lower spine --gee thanks, flashes me back to 6th grade locker room checks for scoliosis...that and the fact that the boys in gym class had moobs (man+boobs) bigger than my chest (talk about being self-conscious).

I walk funny--I think this is genetic, but that seems to be everyone's excuse.  I tried to tell the physical therapist that I'm originally from a little town near Gary, Indiana (used to be the murder capital of the U.S or so my brothers told me) and the way that I walk is simply my own personal swagger.  It puts the vibe out that I mean business.

In a dark alley, my left leg could kick my right leg's butt -- in other words, my left leg is like the incredible hulk and the right leg is like Bruce Banner (yes, I had to google his name) before he turns into the incredible hulk. 

I'm a little hard on myself and was about to give up on the whole running thing, but a recent encounter with a 9 yr old at Walmart reminded that I'm really as cool as everyone thinks I am.

I was walking around in Walmart minding my own business when I encountered this young man and ours eyes met...and then he did what's depicted in the pictures below.

#1.  He licked his pointer and pinky fingers (I don't think that's something I'd even consider doing at Wally World without a gallon of hand sanitizer).

#2.  He used those same saliva saturated fingers to groom his eye brows (Do what you got to do, I guess)

#3.  He made the Joey Tribbiani "how you doing?" face and pointed the aforementioned saliva saturated fingers directly at me (Please notice my full lip look...that right there, that's is all me..100% au nautrale, no fillers)

 I think I'm going to take his gesture as a compliment...could have been worse, he could have flipped me off.  In the words of another hot mess..Charlie Sheen...WINNING!!

Heaven Help Me, I Was A Loser

I've started writing this post several times, but was too embarrassed for anyone to see this.  Here goes...I'd like to preface this post with the fact that my mother rolled our van when she was 6 months pregnant with yours truly.  As a result, I am not fully accountable for the quirky  amazing personality that you know and love.

Take a little walk down good ole memory lane with me, it should only take about 5 minutes as I have blocked out many memories from my formative years.  I like to refer to the era as my awkward years.  We all have them, some individuals are stuck in them longer than others. For me, my awkward years spanned from 2nd grade - my senior year in high school complete with plum speckled glasses, braces, wearing fake Birkenstocks with socks, my skeletor physique, and E.T fingers (oh wait, I still have those... the hubs tells me I have the perfect fingers for flipping people off, and my co-workers have even measured them). 

But, who am I kidding, I'm still stuck in my awkward years... and 5th grade was probably the worst.  Case in point, my friends and I formed a group and as a initiation task we had to come up with a "cool" word that would be unique to the group.  One by one, each of the members (and I think there were a total of 3 members..yup, just call me Ms. Popular) said their word and then it was my turn.... Not sure where I heard or came up with this word, but it was DEFINITELY not from my parents.  (Mom, I will understand if you never talk to me again or take me out of the will).  Take a few deep breaths, Leigh, you are a 30 yr old woman-child adult.  You can say it....

KINKY, that was my word.  I thought it meant cool, neat, awesome, etc. This would have been fine if it had stayed within the realm of our group, but I let it slip in front of a classmate.  I said to Carl, that shirt you're wearing is soooo kinky (I'm assuming I was attempting to impress him with my stellar/advanced vocab). Well, Carl must have grown up in different circumstances because in 5th grade he knew what the word meant and laughed hysterically at me.  Once he explained, I was mortified (worse than the time I forgot to wear a bra to class at age 21)  I thought, how am I going to show my face in Mrs Masterson's class ever again.  The world was over momentarily until some other 5th grader was caught picking his nose.  All was forgotten.  And I even graduated from 5th grade.  Whew, it was a close one. Your life can really change in the blink of a eye.

Life goes on, I've moved onto bigger and better things like going to Walmart in my pjs....maybe I'll get lucky and end up on this site: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

Happy Monday!!

Runner's Trots....Episode #891,223

In the running community, which I'm not cool enough to be a part of there's a dirty little secret that seasoned runners don't always tell you about..

The runner's trots, a.k.a diarrhea cha cha cha, or IT...need I say more?  Probably not, but I'm going to anyway.

In the privacy of your own home, no problem....on a run, it's a different story. WARNING:  If you're not comfortable with talk of defecation, it's time for you to get out of here ASAP.  In my field of work, people always talk to me about their many bathroom trials and tribulations.  Makes sense because I am indeed a gastroenterologist  in the health field and that's code for most people as tell me everything that no one else wants to know.  SCORE!!  As a result, I am now well versed in the bowel movement woes that people endure while sitting on the couch and devouring an entire bag of potato chips and a 2-liter of coke exercising.  I like to think of it as getting to learn vicariously through the experiences of others by listening to EVERY.LAST.DETAIL about their pooping conundrums.  Hmmm, I did not receive this training in my job orientation class and now it's in my everyday convos with my clients. Surprisingly, I have found this experience allowed me to become a better runner.  Say what?!  It's simple you see,  I now know all the things that can go wrong and how to keep my A game still intact on a run.  Get your popcorn and candy ready ladies and gents, it's story time....

On a beautiful Saturday morning in the District (CAUTION:  I have an involuntary reaction to smack people when they refer to D.C as THE DISTRICT...it just sounds so pretentious) while I was approximately 20 minutes into my run, "IT" hit me like Hurricane Irene circa 2011.  This was the worst kind of trouble I've gotten myself into, unless you count the time I got caught trying to pee standing up back in 1985. There was a rumble and a grumble, and I knew I needed to find a wooded area  bathroom faster than a church parking lot clears out after Sunday services.

The "running gods" must have been smiling down on me because 1/4 mile down the path there was a porta-potty.  Perfect...okay not really because here's where it gets a little interesting.  After taking care of business, I realized there was NO toilet paper in the porta-potty.   ZERO.ZIP.ZILCH.  What to do, what to do....? (seriously, what would you do here??) Cha-ching... What's that you ask?  That's me cashing in on the fact that I married an engineer with superb analytical skills and realizing some of his wisdom has finally rubbed off on me. The way I saw it...I had three options to remedy my predicament.

1.  Do nothing and go about my run like nothing smells  happened
2.  Pull a Britney by going commando and use my underwear as toilet paper or
3.  Take off one my $6 socks and use it as toilet paper, not to mention a new fashion trend

This sounds like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure Books, doesn't it?  So exciting!!  Being the fashionista that I am,  I choose door #3. Just call me Mrs. Problem Solver.  Business completed without an accident - check.  Successful clean up - check.  Pride still intact - just barely check. 

That certainly wasn't my first encounter with the runner's trots and isn't likely to be the last.  The moral of the story is always run with socks or a sports bra stuffed with Kleenex. Your welcome.

TGIF!!!

P.S-- This post was written under the influence of two benadryls...I cannot be held responsible for any typos. 

Why I Oughta....

This is my RAGE face...translation- your face is about to meet my fist.  Okay not really, but it makes me sound as tough as a hefty bag. The picture above is actually a reenactment of an experience I had in the Drone City   DC.  Disclaimer: no one was hurt during the making of this photo unless you count the mirror I used to get ready this morning or the camera that snapped this shot. 

Not everyone believes me on this, but DC can invoke feelings of massive amounts of rage in people.  Maybe it's the politics, maybe it's the astronomically absurd cost of living, or the "terrorists"  tourists that invade the city every spring and summer months?!  Who knows, but it's probably a combination of several things that have created the perfect storm of hostility.  I'm ashamed to admit this, but DC got the best of me and I even had a couple of instances where smoke literally came out of my ears.  Again, keep in my that this is my kind of rage, which on a scale of 1 - 10 is probably only a 4 max.  Okay, maybe a 5... to be honest in the story that you're about to hear, I definitely wasn't thinking "What Would Jesus Do" or even my personal mantra, "What Would Joan Do" (Joan happens to be my mom and she's the closest thing I know to a saint on this earth). But enough background...let's get to the story.


 I had finished running errands and was approaching a stoplight and like the good citizen that I am,  I decided to come to a full and complete stop.  After I stopped, I noticed some pedestrians crossing the street illegally (there's some unwritten rule in DC that pedestrian's can cross the street whenever and wherever they please) so I decided to wait until they made it across safely (giving myself a pat on the back as I write this).  Unfortunately, there was a very rude man in a Mercedes behind me that didn't appreciate my patience and attention to safety.  He begin yelling, honking his horn, and waving his arms at me.  Gee, I guess he wanted me to make a turn on red and run those people over.  Maybe he didn't see those pedestrians or he just simply thought he was more important because he drives around a Mercedes (Newsflash Mr...Mercedes in DC are a dime a dozen, you're not special).  At any rate, this invoked some serious anger inside of me that I had never before experienced. I didn't know what to do, I'm not used to feeling that way.  I don't cuss so the next logical thing to do was put my fist up in the air and shake it around so the Mercedes driver would know that I meant business. That lasted a whole 5-6 seconds, then I decided it'd be best to put my fist away.  I'm sure he got the message he probably didn't even notice my tiny fist waving at him in disdain, but it made me feel better.  After that, I actually almost had the desire to do some boring yoga, but being the lazy person that I am I decided against it.  Instead, I did what any normal American would do to deal with stress, I ate a pint size container of Ben and Jerrys ice cream (Cherry Garcia, in case you were curious) and watched some reality t.v.

I am happy to say that I'm almost 1-month "clean" of the DC rage and any lingering feelings of rage have started to dissipate.

Happy Tuesday!!!

I'm Not Dying...I'm Just Unemployed

We moved recently to a small rural town in upstate New York and I left my soul-sucking rewarding job in the health field.  I needed a break to recover and have the energy again to want to help people. I'd like to think I'm currently in a detox/recovery program which involves a lot of Real Housewives, Teen Mom, Days of Our Lives, and Jerseylicious (all trainwrecks of shows, but they make me feel a whole lot better about my life)...please take note this is a judgement free zone.  Whew...good to let those secrets out.  The only downside is now I'll have to deal with the repercussions of my readership levels dropping from 2 people to 1.

Back to the point...being unemployed sometimes people treat you as though you have an illness or something devastating.  Lucky for me, the hubs has a career and I can take some time to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  In the meantime, I'm going to relax and enjoy the following..

Wake up wheneva I want to
Exercise at multiple times during the day
Watch the aforementioned tv shows (please don't make me name them again because I might reveal even more..)
Be attentive to my iphone games--word with friends, draw something, hanging with friends (gotta keep this mind sharp)
Get back in touch with my spiritual side
And last, but not least have a clean house (the par-tay just don't stop over here)

In other news...or I guess old news....

The photo below might look like I'm seriously injured...not to worry this is from a couple of years ago when I decided it'd be a grrrreat idea to use my face as a stopping mechanism while on a bicycle.  I'll leave out the gory deets, but it was not pretty.  Surprisingly, some people pay big buck-a-roos for lips like these and mine only cost a couple "benjamins" and a trip to the E.R.  Can you say S-C-O-R-E?!

I like to call this my full lip look.  Boy, that bottom lip sure does look volumptous voluptuous...I just might have to use my face for brakes again...I come from a long line of thin lipped people.   And desperate times, call for desperate measures...don't forget, I'm unemployed.

Me as a Kid--In the Flesh, No Imitations

Yours truly....Doesn't get much cuter than this.  Actually, it probably does---there's always Suri Cruise.  Who knew you could wear fuchsia corduroy overalls and a floral turtle neck.  Wow..AMAZING, if I do say so myself and I do.

I was an interesting child---#5 out of 6.   I am was attached to my mama at the hip.  She just couldn't shake me, but I'm sure she wanted to because I said/did some pretty embarrassing things back in my glory days.  For instance....

"Take that you bas!@rd!"  (Thank you, Princess Bride.. I believe I was being tormented by brother #3)

Mooning family members when I got mad, I guess that was my way of listening to Madonna and expressing myself.

"I bet they're getting the "sex" talk." (My response to my bff as to why my brothers got abruptly called inside... I think I was probably 10 or 11 yrs old here)

Making my own fashion choices--- My dad laid out my clothes for preschool one day and even at that age I knew there was no way I was going to wear a navy blue velour sweatshirt.  What to do, what to do??  I couldn't very well tell my dad no.  Nope, no siree...I grew up in a generation where kids feared listened their parents (at least for the most part).  My solution?  Blow my snotty nose into the shirt. Bingo, problem solved.

"Mom, it's p!$$ing out!! (Don't have a movie to blame this one on, but I was referring to my precious punctured pop can)

Peed my pants multiple times once at a family friend's house and they gave me some red butt ruffled undies to replaced my boring underwear.  Hellooooo, blessing in disguise!!  I loved these undies so much that I'd wear them and nothing else and shake my bum in the front window of our home. Can you say classy?  Keep in mind, this was one of the busiest streets in our small town....this was obviously before the "call CPS for everything era" began.

"Mom, Leigh pooped in the bath tub!!!!" (Sibling #4 to my mother...I guess I had a little toilet/tub confusion)

My grandma (the famous G.G) smoked and since she liked it so much I wanted to give it a try for myself. Again, knowing at the ripe old age of 5 that my parents would not approve, I decided to grab some cigarette butts off the side of the road for a test run.  Now, where to smoke??  How about behind the house?  In the bathroom?  Being the genius that I am, I decided to "smoke" them in the back of my parent's mini van on our way to a family gathering at who else, but my G.G's house.  Yes, you can say it out loud....BRILLIANT.  Take note, with 5 siblings you are never alone, NEVER!!  Can't remember which sibling, but the tattle-tail shouted out--"Ummmmmm Mooooommmm, Leigh's smoking in the back seat.  In the words of Bill Clinton, I did not inahle...
 
"Beyonce is vo-lump-tuos."  (It wasn't until my late twenties that I was corrected on this one by the hubs..I now know it's voluptuous, but I think my pronunciation/spelling is better.  I stand by it 100%.)


There you have it...that was/is me in a nutshell :)  Happy hump day!!




  

A Woman, the Japanese, and Glass Table Tops...Oh My!!

It's been said before individuals attract attention from others that are most like themselves... this scares me!! In my job as a health educator/coach and fitness specialist, I have encountered some pretty crazy situations that have made me question my own sanity. Tonight's story is no exception.

While manning a front desk at a fitness center, I met a lady (let's call her Betty Jean) interested in becoming a member of the facility.  I went through an orientation regarding our services and amenities and thought Betty Jean would consider the options and return when she was ready.  NOT that LUCKY..  Before leaving the facility, Betty Jean insisted that we hold hands while she said a prayer (don't get me wrong, I love praying--it's just there's a time and a place and this wasn't it ).  She prayed for what felt like 5 solid minutes as people came in and out of the facility.  Any guesses on her prayer list?

World peace? Nope
Health and well-being? Nope
Comfort and safety? Nope

At our first "prayer meeting" Betty Jean blessed the fruit of my loins that I might multiply and replenish the earth (is it any wonder that I'm infertile?!) and...

The Japanese (I was contracted to work for a company based out of Japan) would love and respect me as a leader, that I would move up in the company and receive many raises. Gee thanks, who knew I could make this much of an impression on people within 10 minutes?! 


I didn't want to be rude so I just stood there lightly grasping Betty Jean's hands and trying to not to laugh at the crazy looks I received from patrons.  After the prayer, Betty Jean went on to advise me to purchase a glass tabletop ASAP.  Her reasoning...they are worth a lot of money. Hmmm, last time I checked glass was not a precious stone or metal.  Anyone have any ideas here?

On that note, I'll call it a night...if you get a chance, fill me in on your crazy work stories.

My Husband Made Me Do It--For Reals...

Any guesses??? Let me give you a few key phrases to help decipher my costume.

• I'm off to take the Browns to the Super Bowl
• I've gotta drop the kids off at the pool
• It's time to download a brownload

Yup, you guessed it.. that's me dressed to impress as a T-U-R-D at a Halloween work party. My boss was so proud, she took me around to the neighbor's house to show off her coolest employee.  Right after that I got a raise and my own office.  Good times, good times!! If you can bear to take your eyes off this genius of a costume, look to the right at the handsome fella dressed as a toilet (that's my one and only love muffin).  It's official, we go together like turds & toilets.

I'm curious, what's your best Halloween costume? 

The Wait is Over...I've Arrived

me, Me, ME

Four Words People Use to Describe Me
Matchless, sarcastic, sassy, hilarious (my mama paid big $$ for these endorsements)

Likes
Watching infomercials on Saturday mornings
Eating (many posts to come on this one)
Watching awful movies with the hubster
Running
Discussing the latest reality TV episodes with friends (Note to self-- these shows are not R-E-A-L)

Dislikes
Men with long fingernails
DC
Elitist attitudes

Hidden Talent
Tyra ain't got nothing on my model walk

Fears
Being in a dark room with the hubster-- he always tries to scare me
Forgetting to turn off my hair straightener (just a little OCD issues going here)
Hammertoe
Kitten heels
Birds on a wire

Favorite Quote
"Be a first rate version of yourself, not a second rate version of someone else." - Judy Garland

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Random Life Encounter
At age 5, I saw one toad giving another toad a piggyback ride.  I had no idea what was going on so I tried to pull them a part.  Seriously they were stuck together like Siamese twins.  Much to my dismay, I could not for the life of me get those suckers separated so I eventually abandoned ship.  It wasn't until I was 19 a few years later that I realized they were "makin' whoopee.