PostRejects

Can't sleep...I think cause I ate a lot of Nutella and now my tummy is achin' from the sugar. (Sugar?  I thought Nutella was made of skim milk powder and the goodness of 34 roasted hazelnuts with a touch of cocoa)

Everyone knows about PostSecret. At one point, I may have even identified myself as a fan. That was until I got sick of all that emotional crap and found www.postrejects.blogspot.com. 

Hands down, my favorite. I've been stifling my laughter to not wake up the roommate for the past half hour. You're welcome!

At least I remembered my leave the house pants

 I have half officially started my pre-training for my training for the (half)Marathon. I made it to the gym 3 times last week! I realize that this number really should be doubled, but considering that I went to the gym 0 times a week for a couple years, I'm not gonna beat myself up about it. 

I go the local YMCA, which means there's always a lot of ragamuffin children running around the place. I don't mind though, I actually think their boogey dance classes and swimming lessons for the chillen' are great programs. One thing I do not like is the all day long bouncy castle monstrosity that smells like urine. 

Last night, I decided to make a second appearance at spin class (sidenote - the female teacher has tree trunk legs. This is not what I want), left my lil apartment in time, walked 25 minutes through busy streets, got into the changeroom with 10minutes to spare, only to discover that I left my pants at home. My workout pants. Thankfully, I did have my walking to the gym pants on. THAT would have been embarrassing. Feeling completely bothered and annoyed with myself, I lunged all the way home to compensate.

Aww shucks

While I was out studying at Starbucks (can one truly study at Starbucks?) the gentleman beside me started a conversation, you know, "What are you studying" blah blah blah...but it wasn't far into the convo before he dropped a "you are so gorgeous!" followed by a "seriously, you should model", then a little bit o "my goodness, just look at your cheekbones" and before you knew it, my ego went straight through the roof. I think he was gay...straight men just seem to lack the vernacular depth to include word and phrases such as "the depth of your profile" and "lip symmetry". Anywhoo, this guy totally made my day, and I probably won't think about getting a nose job for at least a few weeks. 

And in the name of shakin' what your mama gave you:

Any beauty that I do  have I owe to 23 of this beautiful lady's chromosomes. Doesn't this pic just make you think of words like swell, swoon, and dreamy? 

Bus Balancing

I don't own a Wii. I don't own the Wii-Fit program, balance board, tennis racquet or heart monitors to go with it. I DO commute daily on the bus, where I can practice stabilizing my core by not holding onto any rails (easy to do on a crowded bus where the hand rail is up way high) and fighting to maintain my balance against the inertia and/or obese children around me. For more of a challenge, I throw on a backpack complete with a large fluid filled Nalgene bottle to throw off the distribution of the weight. Seriously, it's a great exercise. 

odds and eggs

All I've wanted to eat for dinner the past couple of weeks are scrambled eggs with cheese. I've already gone through a dozen eggs since I've been back from holidays. Tasty tasty eggs. I know this is a lot of cholesterol, so I gotta cut back.

In related news, I just signed up for my very first half marathon! I'm very excited, very nervous, and will surely be biting the dust of my experienced, seasoned running sisters. I can live with that, I've always been a runt. But to be in a cool city (Seattle has been pumping out kick ass musicians for years) with my sisters in the summer, with my glimmering diamond sweat running down my *hopefully* toned body parts...well excuse me I'll just stop right there. Ahh forget it, I'm off to scramble some eggs.

Sick Day

After catching Eve's cold from hell and not sleeping all night, I took a sick day today. 

Besides partaking in lots of Rest and Fluids, here's how I spent my day so far:

• Watched Breakfast at Tiffany's; sent out positive thinking waves to the universe in hopes of becoming as stylish and skinny as Holly Golightly
  
• Created all possible concoctions of peppermint, chamomile, ginger, honey and lemon
• Napped on and off in a nest of tissues, a deena, vaseline and sudoku books
• Looked in the mirror. Screamed
• Searched for pho soup delivery. Failed. 
• Sneezed loud enough to cause uncertainty and a feeling of impending doom for all residents of the 8th floor

As Per P's Request

Patience complained that I don't blog enough for her liking, and went as far as to suggest a topic, so here you go Poo!

I love my name, it's very unique and I think it suits me pretty well. It is somewhat of a conversation starter (aka:TIME WASTER) when all I wanna do is order pizza or get a coffee. Those times, I use a fake name, usually Katie or Sara. The other day I tried Maggie on for size, but the store keep thought I said Meghan. So I guess it happens with normal named people too. 

A few years back, I was starting to get really tired of talking to people about my name. I'd quickly bark back the answers to the questions I knew were coming and roll my eyes. I say that only because every single person I've ever met asks the exact same questions.  "Oh what a beautiful name! Where does it come from? How did your parents choose that name? Do you know what it means? It's just so unique! Blah blah blah!", and I would feign interest and flattery. 

So now, if I don't lie about my name to the barista, I lie about the background of my name. It's a lot more fun for me, and it's really funny to see what new stuff I can make up and what people believe. Last Sunday my name was Ukrainian and my mother was an immigrant, from whom I got the name. Yesterday, to the shoe guy, I was a Native girl from the Sawridge tribe who chose not to obtain my status. Even though I'm whiter than snow, I quite often have people believing I'm half South American/Native/insert your favorite culture here. But I get my fair skin from my Scottish father, of course. Now when I have to talk to someone knew, I'm genuinely interested. I wanna see how the heck this story ends just as much as they do! 

I suggest you try making up stories about yourself. You might just find yourself much more interesting and ethnic.