The Desire for a Selfie

About 35 minutes ago, I went outside to get in my car and go to work. Had my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight...

And the battery was dead. Womp, womp, womp.

So here I sit waiting for AAA to come replace my battery so I can get my day started.

Lucky for you, that means I have some time to write a blog post.

Yesterday morning after I got ready, I looked in the mirror and thought to myself, Self, you look GOOD today!

And the I promptly walked out to Diddy's kitchen and said, "Sometimes I look in the mirror after I finish getting ready and think, Damn, I'm hot." 

He just shook his head at me.

It's mornings like that when I totally understand people's obsession with selfies. (For those who are unfamiliar with the term, it is when you take a picture of yourself and post it on a social networking site.) What I don't understand is when people take one nearly every day, regardless of what they are wearing and post it.

I'm not saying that I've never taken a selfie, and I'm not saying that I've never posted one. I just try to reserve the posting to the times when I look damn good.

Which is like 99% of the time.

Life's Funny That Way

Honker was in town last week.

So we spent the day together on Monday. He had a couple of business meetings and wanted to visit a few stores, so I served as his driver and he bought me lunch and dinner.

I hadn't seen him in about a year, and we don't really talk all that much, but I had more fun than I'd had in a long time. It was good to see him!

When we were back at my house the water cooler was empty so I got a full bottle and was changing it. He asked me if I fill the bottles up myself (as opposed to having them delivered). I said that I do, and he said, "How very hippy of you."

That's the mark of a hippy? I didn't even tell him that I cleanse my skin with oil and that recently I started washing my hair with baking soda and vinegar.

Maybe he saw the birkenstocks and tie-dye in the laundry room.

Believe

I saw a guy brushing his teeth while driving on the way to work this morning.

Talk about a logistical nightmare!

Where do you spit?

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In other news, I've started at least three different blog posts in the past week and abandoned every one of them because I felt like they were going nowhere.

Granny B hasn't given up on the liposuction talk. And despite my deep-seeded beliefs about plastic surgery, I find myself thinking, "Maybe I do need lipo? Why not? She's paying for it."

It has really made me think about the things that I say to people and how they come across. Sometimes we say things that we think are innocent, but for someone else it could start a train of thought that hurts.

The thing is, I'm pretty happy with where I am right now.

I would like to lose a little more weight, but I feel good. I'm strong. I can do things at CrossFit that I never thought would be possible.

Just today after the WOD one of the girls who is new to the 5am class, but has been crossfitting for a while came up to me and said, how long did it take you to get to the point that you could overhead squat that much weight so many times in a row? I was watching you and I was amazed.

Until she said that, I didn't think it was that impressive. But the thing is, there was a time when I couldn't do that. And now I can.

I Like It When People Say Nice Things About Me. To Me.

This morning at the gym our lift was a heavy clean complex.

Two hang power cleans.

Two push jerks. (NOT split jerks!)

Two front squats.

Without putting the bar down.

The 5am class has two coaches. I'm not sure why, but I don't mind it at all.

During the lifting portion of the class they walk around watching people lift and making small corrections as they are needed.

This morning one of the girls lifting behind me was having trouble with the push jerk so one of the coaches was over watching her and coaching her.

I set up for my lift, trying to focus on things I've had trouble with in the past. Keeping the bar close on the hang clean, turning my elbows over quickly and keeping them in the rack position during the push jerk and front squat, and driving my knees out during the squat.

I got through the complex, and the coach didn't say anything. I dropped the bar, and the coach didn't say anything. I loosened my wrist wraps and walked away, and the coach didn't say anything. Then I looked over at him and all he said was, "Damn, you're a good lifter."

I couldn't help it - I started beaming.

I told him, "I had to be good at something."

He smiled and said, "Everyone has to have something."

Roller Coaster of Emotion

Holy cow - I'm about to confess to you something that I really never planned to.

A while back, Diddy talked me into signing up for plenty offish.com. Like the sucker I am I signed up and for about a week we would spend about a half hour in the morning checking out potential matches and usually laughing at people.

That got old real quick and I pretty much just gave up on the whole process.

When I would get an email from the site, I would sign on, read the profile and then sign off.

No one really appealed to me.

So last night after I got home from my super confidence inspiring grocery trip with Granny B, I had dinner and then signed on to go through the day's emails. 

I had an email from the site that someone wanted to meet me. (Or whatever nonsense they put in those emails.)

So I sign on and go to the profile, and I am not kidding you, it basically says that he moved to Arizona to start an "adult business" and that he is recruiting talent.

And then it says something to the effect of, "If you are offended by the flesh industry, ignore this, but if you aren't, message me and we can chat."

So, maybe I'll become a porn star and then I can buy my own lipo.

I mean, I didn't message him, but I'm going to take the option as a compliment.

Feels So Good

Last week the girls at the gym and I were talking about how hard it was to get out of bed in the mornings.

We concluded that regardless of what time we go to bed, if the alarm goes off before 5 am, it is just going to suck to be getting out of bed and leaving the house.

Today was no exception.

I often find myself thinking about getting back into bed after I've brushed my teeth. And it is really the knowledge that people at the gym will miss me and Diddy will talk mad shit to me if I don't show up at his house to get ready.

Not that he gets his ass out of bed to go to the gym in the morning, but whatever.

So, when I left the gym at 6 am and I had a text from Janiac saying, "Happy Monday," she was lucky that she was a state away because I'm pretty sure that I would have punched her right in the face had she said it to me in person.

But a couple of hours later, things were looking up. 

And when I was at AJ's getting iced green tea at lunch, a man came up next to me to get a refill on his water. After he stood there for about a minute, he turned to me and said, "Wow, you smell great!"

I was totally shocked. To the point that I couldn't respond. And then he got his water and returned to the table with the people he was eating with.

After that, I couldn't help but smile. So I was going to write you all a blog about how nice it is to give people random compliments. 

Then, this afternoon I took Granny B to Sprouts. A couple of weeks ago she tried to go on her own and apparently ended up at the wrong place because she called both Match and me to tell us that Sprouts was closed. 

So I told her that I would pick her up and take her today.

Things were going well, we had a nice talk on the ride to Sprouts about some random inconsequential things and then we get to Sprouts and as we are walking in she says to me, seriously out of the blue, "When I make some money again I'm going to get you liposuction."

Ummm - huh? There goes all of happiness from my random compliment earlier in the day.

Then, not five minutes later, we walk past the freezer section in Sprouts where she proceeds to buy herself a half gallon of Italian Cream Cake ice cream, two pints of chocolate ice cream, and a quart of lemon gelato. 

Radio Silence

I can't recall whether or not I've told you that I worked for a radio station in college. 

It was one of those moments in life where I was sure that I wanted to work for a radio station after graduation and about 3 months into the job realized that it wasn't the career for me.

But it was a great job for a college senior with a flexible schedule and a healthy love of country music.

I was broke and the job came with some awesome perks, like meeting all of the acts of Country Thunder one year.

And some not so awesome moments, like drinking so much Fuze outside of a car dealership in the 120 degree heat that I had to excuse myself to throw up in the bathroom.

Haven't touched one of those drinks since that day, and just seeing the bottle makes me minorly ill.

I had an awesome coworker and we had some damn good times.

Besides the Fuze, another aversion I acquired because of that job was an aversion for people who call radio stations. 

Look, I get it, DJs rely on idiots to call them to interact and make the show. However, nothing makes me cringe more than listening to the radio and hearing some jackass of a person call into the radio station for no apparent reason.

Seriously, get a life. Radio DJs are not your friends. Unless they are your friends, in which case you can call them on their cell phones because you have that number.

Last week as I was driving to M-town for Biggie's graduation the DJs were asking callers questions from some list titled, "Things Every American Should Know." Or something like that.

And grown adults were calling in and answering the questions in the most asinine way that I wanted to drive my car off a bridge.

DJ: Name one country that borders the United States.
Caller: Europe?

DJ: Who was the first man to walk on the moon?
Caller: Louie Armstrong. No wait, Lance Armstrong.

Seriously, I can not make this up.

As one of my favorite quotes says, Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt.