Monthly Archives: January 2015

They Should Leave the Heat Up to Nature

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She’s going down.

I tried yoga once a very long time ago. I hated everything about it. I hated the way I had to put my body in ways I didn’t think was natural. I hated the way I had to clear my mind and be present. Everyone who knows me, knows I have squirrel brain. I especially hated the whole “ohm” thing. No way, sister. No way.

I am not a serious person. I could not get through that yoga class without giggling. That day long ago, I promised myself that I would never ever step foot inside of a yoga studio again. Ever.

So, when my friend asked me if I wanted to meet her for some hot yoga, my first inclination was to say “NO.” It was on the tip of my tongue. But she had a coupon. 2 weeks of unlimited classes for 20 bucks. If someone gave me a coupon for free cow balls, I would take it.

“Sure,” I said to my friend. “I’ll go, but if someone farts, I’m out.”

After I grabbed one of their mats, I chose a spot at the very back. I was so pushed up against the wall, the teacher reprimanded me. Something about not being able to stretch out properly. “Horse shit,’ I said to myself. Although I quickly came to realize that she was correct.

That first day was on New Year’s Eve. It was cold in my town. Below freezing with the wind chill. You’d think I would have welcomed the hot air after coming in from that cold, but I didn’t. I felt like I was suffocating. Remember, I’m peri-menopausal. Anything above 65 pretty much makes me break out in a hot sweat. I swear the thermostat in there was set at 790 degrees.

It started out with the instructor telling us to breathe and release the tension and worries of our day. She wanted us to clear our minds.

I peeked out of one eyeball, looking around the room. Everyone seemed to be doing it. So, I closed my eye again and tried to follow suit. Somehow, my mind went from “how long have we been here” to “I hope A. makes that really awesome pineapple infused vodka tonight” to “hmm, I wonder if pineapple is even in season?” to “I should have moisturized my feet better.” Squirrel.

So, we’ve established that I cannot clear my mind. Next.

The dreaded “ohm” moment came. Like I said, no way, sister. And I didn’t. I totally faked it. Which was fine because the guy next to me was so into it, his ohm’ing was the only ohm’ing you could hear for miles. I refused to look at my friend, because I knew I would start giggling. I know, very disrespectful, not to mention childish. But I held it together.

Then the contortionist shit came. I heard words like upward dog, downward dog, child pose, warrior 1, warrior 2, warrior 3, triangle, wheel, tree, something about achunga or muchinga or whatever. I was off-balance and extremely ungraceful. Like Honey Bob-Boo trying to do a pirouette.

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Me and my doggy bitten mat after a hot yoga session

Day 2 I had to borrow their mat again. I did have one at home but it’s thick and one corner of it got attacked by a dog. And I don’t even have a dog, so go figure.

I brought my doggy bitten mat on Day 3 but it got kicked out of class because it was slipping a little. Although I think they are just mat snobs. “Oh, I don’t think this is for me,” I kept saying to myself.

On Day 4, I had to borrow their mat again. Day 4 was also a transitional day for me. I actually left there feeling that I could possibly get into this yoga thing. Possibly. When I told my friend this news, she nearly fell over from a heart attack. Even though I said “possibly.”

I don’t know how it happened. The stretching felt incredibly good. The deep breathing is amazing. The heat? I could do without the heat. I swear to you, I was sweating more than a pig on a spit. No lie. You could have filled a bathtub with my sweat. But the best part? I think I may have burned 350 calories. That right there is a margarita and a half my friends.

By day 4 I was able to get into some of the poses. Not wheel or that half headstand thing where you rest your knees on your elbows, but I could stand on one foot without falling over like an anorexic caught in a stiff breeze.

I can honestly tell you that I’m pretty sure I will never, ever be able to move my body like that. If I do, I’ll let you know. You might want to purchase tickets to see it. It will be that much of a mind blow.

So, will I be going back? I think I will. After I get my own mat, of course. But do you think they could turn down the heat just a tad? What did you say? Oh, is that why they call it HOT yoga? Never mind.

Girl Scout Cookies. The Bane Of My Existence.

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You can suck it.

The Kid is a Girl Scout. She has been since she was an adorable little Daisy at 5 years old. She used to LOVE the Girl Scouts. She’s 16 now and of course, she isn’t in love like she used to be. She’s hanging in there though because she only has another year left and let’s face it…it looks good on the dreaded college resume.

It is GS cookie time. It has been for over a week but I keep forgetting. Somehow the job of selling cookies always lands on my shoulders. She used to love going door to door (with me, of course) up and down the neighborhood streets. Asking people to support her troop.

She also wanted the cheesy awards you got if you met certain goals. You know those awards that probably didn’t cost more than 50 cents to make in some third world country? Totally worth it.

When she was old enough to start selling cookies, her form would be practically full. Now? There’s so much white space you can write an entire novel on it.

Anyway, I forgot about the cookies until someone posted something on Facebook about them. So, I wrote this status on my wall:

“Aww crap. I keep forgetting it’s Girl Scout cookie time. Ugh. If anyone wants any, let me know. But you have to be within driving distance because getting them to people is a major pain in my ass and after over 10 years of this I’m kinda done. How’s that for customer service? Lol! (sssh, don’t tell our troop leader…). But I will gladly place an order for you with a smile!! xoxo”

Yeah, I know it was snarky. I know my friends are going to say I’m being mean and bitchy. Maybe I was a little rough. But I’m not kidding when I say I’m done. You don’t even need to put a fork in me to tell. It’s obvious because I have the appearance of a piece of chicken that was left out on the barby for too long.

Girl Scouts is an absolutely awesome organization. I don’t regret for one minute, the day I signed up my little angel. She has learned about respect and commitment. She has formed great friendships. She can pop up a mean tent and make chicken parmesan out of a cardboard box oven that would rival that of Martha Stewart’s.

But anyone who knows me, knows that I am not a lover of volunteering. And it pretty much takes a village to run a troop. Yes, her leader is awesome and does 99% of the work (thank you Miss K. You have literally helped raise my child, I am forever grateful to you) but I believe I have paid my dues. Both figuratively and literally.

Years of being cookie mom, running magazine drives, filling out those address books so your troop can have an extra $2 added to the account, having to be a chaperone at meetings, encampments, field trips. The f*cking permission slips for every dang thing. My hand a throbbing hot mess after writing out multiple forms in a row. I swear it takes an hour for the blood to start circulating again.

After being involved in the Girl Scouts for almost 12 years, I am tired. I will give to the poor, I will volunteer my time at the soup kitchen, I will make coffee for the parishioners at church. But please don’t ask me to sell one more god darn Girl Scout cookie. I just can’t do it anymore.

So, who wants some? We have Trefoils, Do-si-dos, Thin Mints….

Stop Trying To Sell Me Something Dammit!

I had to run a quick errand this afternoon. I didn’t want to. I was comfortable in my nice warm house. Outside it was snowy and cold as hell. The last thing I wanted to do was go out. Or get dressed.

I walked into Stop and Shop. I saw her in the corner of my eye. I tried to avoid her by turning toward the pineapples. My mistake was that I wasn’t fast enough. And also that I answered her.

Her: Excuse me, ma’am?

Me: (here it comes…shit. What do I do, what do I do?) Yes?

Her: Do you own a home?

Me: (I should lie. You know, tell her no.) …uh, Yes?

Her: Have you ever thought of solar panels for your house?

Me: No and I’m not interested. (I should have said I already have them, but lies always lead to more lies and before I know it she’s asking what manufacturer and I’m saying “The Solar Guys” and she’s all like umm, I don’t think there is such a thing and I’m saying you must not know your stuff and then she’s googling it to prove I’m wrong and then I’m feeling super bad and will need to stop into the local church on the way home to confess my sins.)

Her: Why?

Really? Did she just ask me why? Because I’m not, that’s why. Because I’m here for a f**king fruit basket I need to buy for a neighbor whose husband died 3 weeks ago but because my head is so far up my ass, I didn’t know so I missed all the services and I feel really bad so I’m going to say I’m sorry through apples (I’m not alone – yes, I just threw you under the bus my other 2 neighbors who also didn’t know).

I waved at her like those angry old men you see at the mall who are irritated by the teenagers playing their iPods too loudly. I heard her snicker under her breath. I have officially crossed to the other side. And I thought my wrinkles were bad?

I have to say I’m kind of tired of sales people who are put where they shouldn’t be. I get the Girl Scouts selling cookies outside of Office Max. I get the veteran’s looking for donations for the wounded soldiers outside of the market. I get salespeople. This isn’t about slamming the salesperson. These are jobs. There need to be salespeople for the world to carry on.

But the people that are set up inside of stores that have nothing to do with the store itself? Bothering the customers? Come on.

I understand that the kiosks at the mall are just running a business. So are all the other businesses there. But I don’t see some chick from Victoria’s Secret running after me with a pair of thongs promising that I will feel 30 years younger if I try them on, do I?

There’s the guy with the hair straightener. He’s coming at me so fast and furious, I swear he’s going to club me in the head with it.

There’s the lady who promises my hands and cuticles will be softer than a baby’s bottom if I buy her lotion. I actually fell for this once. It still sits in the cabinet in my bathroom. It started out blue. It is now green. And full to the brim.

The one that gets me the most is the guy pawning his e-cigarettes. What even is that? Whatever it is, please don’t assume I’m a smoker and try to sell them to me. It’s an insult.

If I’m interested in your wares, I will approach you. Otherwise, I will avoid you like the plague.

I actually have a route that I take so that I can avoid them. Which really sucks. I don’t want to have to avoid these people. I want to be able to go to the mall or the grocery store or even the gas station without being pounced on. I want to be able to shop in peace. It’s bad enough that my home phone rings all day and night. And they aren’t friends or family calling either.

Everything has gotten out of control. Technology, although grateful for it, has gotten out of control on some level. The way we live, has gotten out of control.

I long for the easy days of corded phones and playing outside. When the only people who called were your friends or grandmother. Easy shopping and writing letters. That’s what I want.

I kind of feel bad for our kids. They don’t understand. They don’t know who Paul McCartney is and that it’s not okay to talk to strangers on the internet.

When did that happen? I don’t know. But please. Can’t we at least keep sales to the sales office? It really would make me so much happier.

And making me happy is what it’s all about, right? Did I mention that we also live in a self-absorbed world? Houston, we might have a problem.

My New Year’s Resolutions That Are Meant To Be Accomplished, Maybe.

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Happy 2015! Is it going to be happy? I sure hope so. I do hate when a new year starts though, really if only for the fact that it takes me 5 weeks to remember to write the new year on my checks.

If I’m being honest here, there is something else I hate about a new year: the dreaded Resolutions. They are tweeted and Facebook’ed about on the daily, declaring life changes for “real this time.”

You see the “I’m gonna lose 50 pounds this year” one day and 2 weeks later, that same person posts a selfie of them scarfing down a plate of fries at Red Robin (guilty as charged – uhh, bottomless fries — hello?).

With that being said, I am here to declare my New Year’s Resolutions to you. I have all good intentions. I really do. (“Good Intentions.” That counts for something, doesn’t it?)

  1. I will try something new. That something new is Hot Yoga. I came, I conquered (sort of), I paid $20 for 2 weeks of unlimited classes. Prediction: after the 2 weeks is up, I will most likely not set one more painted toenail in a yoga studio – look for a post on that coming soon to a timeline near you.
  2. I will come out of my comfort zone more than once this year. See #1. Also, by “comfort zone” do they mean to choose the salad bar over the raw bar at the local chinese buffet? Prediction: my natural ability to be lazy may take over my unnatural ability to leave the comfort of my cozy couch. I mean, come on man, it’s cold. And when it’s warm? I will be on the beach. Maybe I’ll set up my chair in a different spot.
  3. I will lose 10 pounds. Repeat after me: I will lose 10 pounds. I will lose 10 pounds. Yes, I will lose 10 pounds. I will exercise 5-6 days a week and write down everysinglething I put in my mouth on the LoseIt! app on my iPhone. And I WILL lose 10 pounds. Prediction: I will revel in my svelte new figure that will be able to house the size 4 jeans without too much of a muffin top that fit the last time I lost 10 pounds. I will repeatedly swear I will never, ever gain weight again. This will last precisely 8 weeks or until the next family party (if you have met my family, then you understand what I mean). How do I know? It’s called deja vu.
  4. I will spend time trying to gain new fans on my Facebook page. I will spend hours befriending other bloggers, swapping out “likes,” selling my first born so that I can reach into the double digits. Prediction: After about 2 weeks, I will realize that it’s just bullshit. Besides, it’s so much more fun to stalk people from high school instead. (Note: I really do love my blogger friends, but I love them for them, not to do favors for each other, well, unless we want to)
  5. Think before I speak. Before I open my mouth, I will think about what I allow to come out of it. Prediction: I will forget to think.
  6. I will take a writing course and develop my skills. Actually, here is one resolution that I hope to accomplish. I have signed up for a writing course which starts this Tuesday and lasts 6 weeks. Prediction: I will pass with flying colors and be the star of my class. Okay, maybe not the “star” but I will pass. I swear. Because I have $400 on the line and if I don’t, I would have wasted a good Christmas present. And you all know how I hate wasting.

So, there you have it. The Resolutions of 2014 2015 according to Mo. Good luck to you all. I hope this year brings health, happiness and at least one accomplishment that you resolved to do. If you don’t? Eh. There’s always next year.