So….I apologize.
I’ve kind of been under construction. In like a ‘reinventing myself, life discovery, soul searching’ kind of way. Or something. Let’s get real. I’ve been a work in progress for sure (as is evident by the bottle of wine that was just consumed…I just can’t shake that nectar of the Gods). I”ve missed this little blog, and have been drawn to it many times recently…only to question whether what I had to write was important (um, has it ever been?). Did I want to change the direction of the blog, (if random ramblings could be considered a direction). Was this blog really just me avoiding the things I really needed to take care of in life? Ah, hit the nail on the head.
I’ve struggled with how personal I want this blog to get in the past, as opening up to random people is definitely not my strongest skill. Guess what? Still not sure. I do know that I’ve had things I want to write and sort of get out there though. I’ve changed my focus these last few months. Namely, I’ve finally found a desire to focus on my fitness again. Let me explain how this happened.
I went to the gym with Billy one day (husband, personal trainer, fit guy extraordinaire). He’s suuuuper patient as a trainer, and just in general. But he kept asking me to do things that I wasn’t capable of. I went home that day feeling angry and completely defeated. The things he had asked of me weren’t super advanced, and in my mind I felt they were things I could do…but my body couldn’t anymore. I spent the rest of that day in a seriously cranky funk. There was no one and nothing to blame but me.
There was only one thing to do: quit making so many damn excuses. Once upon a time I thought of myself as an athletic person. That person had become long gone. I started going to the gym 5-6 days a week. I became a nightly stalker of fitness motivational videos. I started researching body builders and bikini fitness models on youtube. What did they eat, how did they work out? What else did I want? This wasn’t really an aesthetic problem. A size 2 was, and isn’t my goal. It’s unrealistic, and frankly useless. I wanted to feel strong again. I set a goal of being able to do a pull up. A real one, unassisted. I also wanted to be able to do real push ups. None of this from-the-knees garbage.
I won’t lie, the beginning was rough. It felt like a darkest before the dawn situation for a good month.
Slowly though, I got stronger. My weights went up. I didn’t waver. We went to my aunt’s for a four day Thanksgiving weekend, I WOKE UP AT 7 THANKSGIVING MORNING TO GO RUNNING IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. Setbacks? Sure. I’m still having them (hi, did you read the wine issue of tonight??). I will have to atone for that tomorrow. It is getting better though. We’ve tracked my body fat, and a bunch of other boring things. We even have a date scheduled to start a one month hardcore body builder diet to see just how much both of our bodies will react.
I finally feel like I’m at a point where I feel comfortable putting it out there. This is what I’ve been doing. These goals have kept me up many nights with a passion to lift heavier, and go further. I’m starting to feel like me again. I”ve put all of me into this, and I was scared for a while to put it out in the universe, for fear of failing. There will be no failure though. I’ve come too far now, and have put more effort into this than I have into anything in my life since massage school. This is for me. I will be proud of myself, I will feel strong, and I will (as I so eloquently put it to Billy) “learn how to do some sweet ass tricks and shit”. (I’m not talking about bedroom shit, pervs….although, maybe that too).
Now you know my dirty little secret. This has been my priority, and my obsession. Anyone else out there on a new life journey?
That’s gangsta not gangster. Now that that’s covered…
I apologize (for the 4 of you that care). I have been M.I.A for weeks now. I had lost my writing mojo and wasn’t sure what to do about it, or if it even mattered. Turns out it matters to me, and therefore doesn’t matter if you care or not. You shall continue to receive my sloppy little blog as long as I see fit.
So what do I need to catch you up on from the last few weeks?
Well, Erica came out. That didn’t suck. We went to the zoo…which is frankly where we belong.
We got to hand feed that elephant by the way, because my best friend has the hook up and yours doesn’t. Also, that’s a tapir ladies and gentlemen. If you haven’t seen this, well, watch it.
I’ve also switched jobs recently…which is a story left for another night when I still have my buzz. Speaking of which: Wino Wednesday is still happening, even if I haven’t been writing about it. Tonight, for example, I watched The First Wive’s Club with my friend Amy…while consuming two bottles of wine and copious amounts of cheese. That movie will never get old. We’ve decided that 16 Candles will be our next date. Jake Ryan is still hot. All arguments against that are invalid.
In completely unrelated news: It’s Halloween in a few minutes. Can we just get this holiday done and over with? I’m going against the vast majority here, and I know it. But the only thing I like about this is adorable little kids stumbling around in their costumes, often unsure of what their parents have even dressed them up as. The rest of the liquored up whores can keep it. I’m going to go ahead and not sugar coat it. Enough crap is already sugar coated in snickers flavored rainbows on this holiday. I’m not bitter. If this is your one day a year to rock your body without shame: then go for it. But I think you should be able to do it without sexing up a Sesame Street or fairy tale character. Sexy pizza ladies, really? If you can’t get your man’s attention without dressing up as his favorite food group…you have bigger problems.
So with all that said: I will do my best to get back in the swing of things for those of you that read regularly. This girl is getting her groove back. Or at least that’s the idea. So fill me in: what are your latest shenanigans, embarrassments, bizarre stories?
So I know I’ve mentioned on here that I’ve started working out again recently. It started as a way to clear my head, calm my stress and anxiety. And it worked! Sort of. I’ve been working out about three days a week, with intensity. Sometimes I have a session with a super hot personal trainer that shall remain nameless, sometimes I just go for a run; I’m doing it though and it feels good. I figured hey, a couple of pounds lost wouldn’t be a bad side effect, right? So why in the name of Ryan Reynolds’ left nut have I gained three pounds?? First person to tell me muscle weighs more than fat, I will show up at your house and shin kick you.
I know there are a lot of reasons that this could be going on. Maybe I’m retaining weight from too much salt. Maybe the exercise has made me hungry and I’m eating to many calories (who knows, I’m not about to count them). Maybe my body is still in shock and adjusting. Whatever, not the point. The point is this was supposed to help clear my mind, and now it’s clogging it with a new obsession! Turns out I’m better off sitting on my ass, partaking in the wine and cheese diet.
I was doing just fine in the weight department. I wasn’t hung up on it like I was when I was younger. But it’s the principle of the matter now. I feel like I’m getting punished for being healthier. And you can go ahead and spare me with the ‘but your heath is most important’ crap. No one beats their ass at the gym so that they can gain weight…except for weird body builders, and that’s not a look I’m going for.
What I’m really trying to say is; why can’t I have my cake and eat it too? Really ladies, is it too much to ask to have the body and bank account of a Victoria’s Secret model while gorging on fatty delights washed down with a bottle of wine? I suggest that it isn’t. With all that said I will probably change….nothing. I will leave that to the rest of the women in the OC who are already concerned about eating a potato once a week. Now that I’ve vented I feel better, good job for listening you guys. Now where’s my wine?
I don’t have a real post in mind…or at least not one specific topic. So instead, I will be sharing the swirly nonsense that has been going through my brain lately.
1.) I’m insanely excited for my childhood BFF, Erica, to get here on Thursday. We have so much catching up and wine drinking to do (amongst other shenanigans).
There aren’t many ways we could be more different, but I love her to pieces.
2.) What is it that compels chronic over-sharers? I was in line behind a lady at the check out today, and she felt the need to go into a full dissertation on her medications for her heart, and the results of her last EKG. Um…can I just get some bananas? She started this conversation based off of a standard friendly smile. No words had been said….maybe my smile invites wack jobs?
3.) Adding to my list of needs that Billy is required to supply. 
If you don’t want a baby manatee, then you probably have no soul.
4.) It’s incredible how many kids-pooping-on-parents stories I’ve heard this week. It is not endearing me to pop out the little shit monsters.
5.) If I don’t find some good Thai food down here soon, I’m going to have to just up and go to Thailand (which now that I think about it, is a better idea anyways). Seriously, it’s been months without my favorites spicy comfort food. I’m having withdrawals. I’m two cravings away from just walking the streets, smacking my veins, “Do you know where I can score some pad thai man?” If the pad thai is good, chances are so is the rest of it. 
Pad see ew. So much drool.
6.) We finally went and saw Riddick last night. Sad face. I LOVED the first two. This one took forever to really get started and draw you in. Also, if you’re going to make Vin Diesel naked for a brief scene, you better at least give me a full shirtless view, and not just some half ass from-a-distance-I-think-that’s-a-naked-ass shot. Rude.
Damn it, now I’m hungry. Hope everyone’s weekend is off to a lovely start…and if you’re having Thai food, send me a picture of your food porn to help sustain me.
Remember how I was recently bitching about being kind of broke and work not going well? Yeah…scratch that. I mean, I still need more hours and money and all that, but you know what it turns out we have enough money for? Shocker….wine. I should probably preemptively make a sign that says ‘will dance for wine’.
Our house grew by two cases this last two weeks. Yes, 2 CASES. A shipment we’ve been waiting on for at least a month from Kestrel finally arrived Monday. I opened the box and angels flew out. If I’m going to be home and broke, I’m going to do it while tossed on good wine. A girl’s gotta have some standards.
In other important news: E.L James, the author of the 50 Shades books, is now making wine. You can read all about it here. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, if it’s tasty, all is forgiven. However, if it’s just another celebrity garbage wine….well then I guess it will just fit right in with the caliber of her books. Seriously people, wines aren’t perfume, quit it. With that said, I will now quit hating. If I had the opportunity to create my own wine, you can bet your sweet red room of pain that I would be.
Also happening: I’m baking pumpkin bread right now. All you fall freaks rejoice! See, I told you I like pumpkin things too. I’m still in no hurry to bust out the boots and hot cider though, so just slow it down folks. Really, the pumpkin bread is just a vehicle for butter. I literally called my mom the other night, distraught because I had NOTHING to put butter on. Not a damn thing. Do you know how upsetting that is? So this is me fixing that problem.
Finally, I leave you with this thought of the day: Kangaroos have three vaginas. True story, just learned it. So go ahead and let that simmer. Happy Wednesday bitches!
I’ve definitely been more stressed and anxious than usual lately. I’ll spare you the sob story; suffice it to say my job is not going so hot right now. Billy, on the other hand, seems to be on fire at his job lately. Thank goodness sugar daddy is saving the day again.
Rather than my usual routine of finding the latest version of mac n’ cheese and curling up with a good dozen books, I’ve actually turned to exercise. Trust me, no one is more shocked than I. It started with just a couple innocent jogs this week. Nothing too crazy. After all, I’ve been pretty well removed from regular workouts for a while now. They did the trick though. It helped to clear my head and put things in a bit better perspective.
So I decided to go ahead and use the resources I have: Billy. I asked if he would go ahead and train me Sunday morning. I figure other people have to pay $110/hour for his time. Well haha suckers, I just have to feed him. I knew it would be ugly. I knew I would regret asking. But I did it anyways.
What the hell was I thinking???
He put together the circuit of death. I made it through the first round great. Second round started looking a little sad. By the third round….forget it. He based a lot of the work out around squats and lunges because I like those. Um yeah….
That’s pretty much exactly what’s happening right now. My first appointment at work this morning was not pretty. It may shock some of you to know that massage therapists do not have strong arms. This is because they get most of that deep tissue work done by pushing through with their legs. Oh, My. God. I tried to sink down into my usual ‘horse stance’…no. I was genuinely concerned that I wasn’t going to get back up. I have two more appointments this afternoon, we’ll see what happens. More than likely I will be a bad girl and bend to much with my back. But if I don’t, I worry that I will fall over and a naked client will jump up off the bed in concern. Pass on that.
Oh well….with any luck I can get him to destroy my abs on Wednesday to the same level.
Just thought I would point this out again because there seems to be some confusion today. First, there was the man at the gas station (to be fair I think he was drinking 4 Loko or various hooch from a bag), who decided his pickup line would be, “Hey nurse! I got something for you to take care of!” Obviously, I swooned that instant.
Then I had my final client of the day. I really shouldn’t make fun of this, because it’s a legit therapeutic issue…but this guy is a regular and a douche, so it’s happening.
He strolls in late, with his five year old in tow, who will be playing video games in the room during the massage. He then proceeds to tell me that he’s “having a gluten attack, so I’m very constipated. Also, my trapezoids hurt.” Hmm…well stop eating gluten dummy, because you tell me about your gluten problems every time you come in. Also, I know you always come in knowing everything there is to know, so maybe you can tell me how to work your math problem. There is definitely no ‘trapezoids’ that I’m aware of on the body.
Whatever, I let it go. I know what he meant of course. We get through most of the massage, and then it’s abdominal time to see if we can, ah, get things flowing. He looks right at me, “This isn’t going to make me crap the bed, is it?” He’s dead serious. Um…no. Do you really think I offer a massage that allows someone to shit the bed that I have to clean up?
We finished up the hour, shit free, and he went on his way, presumably to rush home and take a healthy dump.
Finally, I leave you with this. I received coupons from Target today, in keeping with today’s health theme. I know it’s supposed to be a pill bottle….but does anyone else think it just looks like a stubby fat penis?
Really, there are several reasons. But we’ll start with what inspired this post: I went to the gym today. I know, gold star for me. Maybe we shouldn’t discuss that immediately after, I then craved top ramen and doritos. I didn’t eat them, but I had naughty day dreams about them. The real reason this is related to me being an old lady? My hip went out again while I was running. Anybody out there ever have an injury screw up what was going to be an epic workout? I mean, I was feeling it. Lungs weren’t on fire, shins were good, my playlist wasn’t sucking…..and then I went from 30 to 85 in the blink of an eye. So. Pissed. Off.
I haven’t been working out regularly for a little while, so the fact that I was all excited in the first place and dragged my ass to the gym was impressive. Less impressive? The sexy hobble I was rocking at about 1.5 miles. Luckily, my favorite personal trainer was near by and available to stretch me out. That’s what she said.
Next up for why I’m an old lady in training: I want to punch a baby over the new iPhone. Now don’t misunderstand, I don’t have one. I’ve never had an iPhone. Never will. And not because I actually care about Mac vs PC and all that nonsense. They are both equally horrible products, contributing to the God awful communications problems this country is facing. Seriously. I had a rant the other day about how much I get irritated by Instagram (which I also don’t have). A bunch of people airbrushing themselves. That’s what it really is. Gee, thanks for your 400th selfie, which still looks NOT like you in real life. I get it, we all want flattering pictures of ourselves, and who doesn’t want to see the million different ways you can capture your baby and your breakfast? Except that really, you gave us the same picture yesterday, and the day before…just with a different filter and hashtag. Moving on, otherwise I could be at this topic all day.
I need to have kids, if for no other reason than to fast forward and be a grandma. Why? Because I am pro status at feeding people. Nothing gives me a more sick and twisted pleasure than forcing my husband to eat thirds at every meal….and then top him off with chocolate chip cookies. All I need now is to check off that knitting or crocheting from my 40 before 40 list, and I’ll be fully trained for my golden years.
Drinking wine and playing bridge? Preferably while retired and traveling? Bring it. I’m only 30, and I’m already exhausted with the standards that are expected of women my age. Must. Look. Sexier. Give it a rest. Although I’m enjoying every bit of life right now and living in the moment most of the time, I’m really going to love having that pressure removed when I’m older. Nobody expects an old lady to be on a diet, trendy, and up to date with technology.
The final, and probably number one reason why I will be the best old lady ever? If I’m an old lady, that means Billy will be an old man. (I will give everyone a heads up that this is getting into MAJOR TMI territory….you’ve been warned). If Billy is an old man, that means the junk that I currently flop around absentmindedly, will be even MORE awesomely hangy. Hours of entertainment in my future.
With that said, I’m going to get this posted before he reads it and tells me to get that information off the internet. Cheers bitches.
It’s about to feel like Christmas up in this bitch. Know why? WINE TASTING ON SATURDAY!!! Scott and Jessie are coming all the way from WA this weekend for the best that Cali has to offer: which is wine and beaches. I know you didn’t think I lived here for the abundance of plastic surgeons…
Jessie and I are about to bring the pain to enough cheese and wine to become honorary Frenchies. Maybe we’ll even get drunk enough to use an accent at the wineries. But that will probably be later. I’m sure I’ll have to drive because Scott + Billy =
In completely unrelated news, and a super moment of TMI for everyone….why does a pimple wait for a weekend where you KNOW you’re going to be taking pictures? Rude.
Other random events of the day….I made Billy chocolate chip cookies yesterday. I know, don’t I sound like a sweet wife? In reality, they’re like catnip for him. If ever I wanted a $700 purse (never) or another vacation (much more likely), stuffing him with these until he looks like Violet from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is the way to do it. No joke, he had 8 of them last night. EIGHT, just in the evening. If I were smart I would get this on video and use it as blackmail by claiming I’m going to show his clients.
I leave you with this final thought as you get ready for your weekend: What do we think of this as a present for Billy? Think I can get him drunk enough to wear it?
That’s right, I hope your pumpkin spice lattes are weeping. For the past one or two weeks I’ve been bombarded with people excited for ‘boots, and sweaters and pumpkins oh my!’ You can take your 8 million pumpkin recipes and shove them right up your ass.
My Washington Facebook ‘friends’ are worse for so many reasons; the biggest one of which is that YOU BARELY GET SUMMER! But hey, I guess somebody has to live up there and actually love that crap weather, right? It’s just hard for me to understand why people are so fickle about seasons. They moan and groan for MONTHS waiting for summer. Then one heat wave hits and they’re over it. Me personally? I’m so excited that my summer doesn’t begin and end in August for the first time in six years, that I may throw up. Really, I’ll probably just extend my beach time, but throwing up could technically go with that too (that bikini doesn’t wear itself people). I kid, I would never be bulimic, I spend too much money on good food for that. Moving on…
For those of you all jacked up about boots, really? First of all, I hate having my feet confined that much. Second, sandals are just cuter. Unless you have fugly feet, but that’s another post. So great, now it’s boot season for you. If you’re in WA, I can’t wait to hear about how over boots you are in April.
Don’t take any of this the wrong way. I actually DO enjoy pumpkin things. And I think fall leaves are pretty. But why not live in the moment instead of just waiting for the next thing? Quit rushing it. There’s a reason so many songs are about summer: it’s because it’s awesome. Everyone is just a little bit more carefree, a little more adventurous. I can’t think of any songs about the joy of scarves off the top of my head.
The only real way I want to differentiate seasons is by moving to more red wine instead of white. It sure as shit isn’t about moving from iced tea to pumpkin lattes. Disclosure: I don’t like coffee, and a pumpkin latte sounds like spiced up compost juice.
So this weekend I will go wine tasting and I will go to the beach. There will be no apple picking and excited boot shopping for me. For those of you in WA, I know you’re having one last final push of heat wave. I suggest you enjoy it. Come March you will be back in the bitter barn, dying for sun that will continue to elude you for another three months. I know some of your are going to tell me how much some people like the rain and blah blah blah. But I see it from you same people every year once you’ve had too much of that. You go right back to being fickle and wanting something else. Enjoy what you’ve got while you’ve got it.
This pretty much sums up what I’m trying to say: 
Which side are you on? Good or evil? Are you all jacked up for fall, or enjoy your final moments of carefree summer?
Cheyanna's Shenanigans 