Training: beast of burden

Today, I ran in 84*F temps (with 81% humidity).  Now, that’s just crazy talk…

(and I still feel like I might puke).

Training

hit the pavement again today.  awesome weather.  Atta girl…

 

Some Kind of Wonderful: Two Words

1. Tiger
2. Woods

Fatties are drivin’ me batties…

Why, oh why, do the fatties I work with think it’s OKAY for them to make rude comments about MY WEIGHT– especially when I’m the only one with an acceptable BMI (??).

I mean, c’mon– enough already.  If I were to turn the tables, and say what I thought about y’all’s weight, I’d probably get turned into HR for harassment.

Just because you’re stuffing your faces (for the third time today) with donuts and chex mix, and I politely decline the offer to indulge, doesn’t give you the right to make snide remarks regarding my eating habits.  Honestly, how many times do I have to hear, ”Oh, that’s right, she already ate her one raisin for the day…”  (followed by snort, snort, huff, guffaw, BURP).

And, to the fattiest-fatty of them all, do you really need to announce to the office staff that your hubby doesn’t find my “bony ass” the least bit attractive– and that he’d never want to f*ck me.  Please, STOP! Trust me, I don’t f*cking want to KNOW that the two of you have even discussed this subject (let alone, hear you say it out LOUD in front of our collective co-workers). 

Keep egging me on, and I’m gonna put on my fightin’ gloves…

Let’s see how funny you think it is when I ask y’all: “How do you f*ck a fat woman?” Answer: “Roll her in flour and look for the wet spot.”

(’cause, you know, that’s one of MY HUBBY’S favorite fat jokes… )

And, here’s somethin’ for those of us that prefer “bony ass… “

 

Overheard at the Bar Last Night

Girl 1:  Wow. You look great!

Girl 2:  Yeah, I’ve lost about 20-25 pounds since the divorce…  I didn’t even try.

Girl 1:  Well, not that you needed to lose the weight, but you look so great!

Girl 2:  Still, I have this roll (pinches gut) that just won’t go away.  But it’s so MUCH SMALLER NOW.

(You gotta love a muffin top… )

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

… got you on my mind.

 

One bites a trophy; one bites the dust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2008 French Open tennis winner, Spain’s Rafael Nadal, bites his trophy as he poses for the press.  Nadal defeated Switzerland’s Roger Federer during the men’s final match of the French Open tennis tournament on Sunday June 8. 

In other Sports News…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Big Brown bites the dust– with a stunning last-place finish in the 2008 Belmont Stakes.  Spectators were left wondering wtf (??!).

Big Brown became the first horse seeking the Triple Crown to finish last in 140 years of running the 1.5 mile Belmont.

 

Laundry Blues

I’m getting a new washing machine delivered tomorrow.  Old machine crapped out.  Was leaving some weird oil-like spots haphazardly all over what was supposed to be my clean clothes.  Nasty stuff.  And, wouldn’t you know, it always managed to show up on my favorite whites… always.

Wish me luck in washing out all of my “trouble spots.”  And I do mean ALL of my trouble spots!

 

Meltdown

I’m losing it.  no, really.  I’m unhappy with the things that I should be happy with– and sad about the things that I should be grateful for.  Pretty f*cked in the head, right?
 
I heard Sheryl Crow’s song on the car radio– the one about the secret to life being “not getting what you want, but wanting what you have.”  I swear, I almost had to pull over to the side of the road and puke.
 
Maybe I’m just sick of life.  I don’t really feel depressed, per se.  But today, on my way home from work, I was a little spooked.  I was driving a little fast (like 85mph FAST) while approaching a concrete divider that veers sharply to the left.  Instinctively, I braked.  At the same time, for a split second, I found myself wondering what it would be like to just hit the wall– FULL SPEED.  To just be done with “things.” Honestly, that thought scared the living shit out of me– as in, where the hell did that thought come from?… and why?
 
It’s not a secret that I’ve never fully recovered from my husband’s infidelity.  And, I’d be lying if I didn’t fully admit to wanting to “mess around” with an old boyfriend I crossed paths with last spring.  You see, somewhere, in my screwed up head, I’d convinced myself that I had a “license to cheat.”  And damn, if I didn’t try hard to use that “free pass” on Mister, Mister.  
 
Then, last August, when things started to heat-up between us, I put the brakes on.  Firmly.  Told Mister, Mister some bullshit excuse about how much my husband loved me, and would do anything in the world for me.  And I’m still not certain, to this day, WHY I stopped myself. 

Well, ok, that’s not entirely true.  What stopped me, most certainly, was the promise I had made to myself to NEVER hurt another female the way I’d been hurt.  In other words, I didn’t want Mister, Mister’s wife to ever feel about her husband the way I feel about mine.  I never wanted to be that woman who made her question her whole existence/world.  That woman that made her sob herself to sleep at night.  That woman that made her question her seemingly wonderful husband’s character till the day she died.  That woman who made her think about crashing her car into a concrete highway block– on some random, f*cking hot day in early June– because her head was so messed up…
 
Yeah, that woman.

And yet, knowing all that– and having the clarity to write it all down– I still want her husband.

more about “Radiohead - Creep [Live at The Astoria]“, posted with vodpod

 

Wednesday’s Abs