We could talk all day about my curves.  No one wants to do that trust me.  Buzz, your girlfriend…woof.

After injuring myself and myself esteem a few times one would think I would learn.  Sadly this is not the case.

A successful bag class completed at the gym and the tires were rolled out.  Notice the plural s on tires; don’t let that single fella fool you.


A handful of us stood around.  A few completed the jump.  I simply started sweating as a contemplated the idea.  I told myself absolutely not.  No matter what the outcome I would end up looking like a donkey and probably end up injured.

Let me be honest.  I am not scared to be hurt.  I am afraid to not be able to get my sweat on.  My eating habits are out of control and curves will be the understatement of the century if I am unable to workout.

The tires and I went a few rounds.  Of course I attempted just with minimal effort.  I would jump up and barely close enough to touch them with my feet.  I figured everyone including myself would be satisfied with my attempt and we could move on.  Yea right.  Where was the effort?

Enter my irrational decision making skills and inability to say no, yet again. More commonly referred to as my life.

The owner of the gym offered to stand behind me.  The logic being I would fall on him and not the cement floor.  I told him for his safety it wasn’t in his best interest; he insisted for insurance purposes that it was.  I made a few more legitimate attempts, but still no luck.

One of the successful jumpers suggested I use my arms.  As people started to walk away, I did just that.  Result jumping so far that my shoes went inside the tires and I flew backwards.

Hello broken tail-feather.

I could possibly be over exaggerating the severity of the injury, but on the drive home I was sincerely concerned that I wouldn’t be able to get out of my car.

The only thing we are sure of that day I was injured at Curves.  Please allow me to quote the gym owner, “Wow, really sorry to hear you were hurt at Curves.  I hear it’s intense over there.”

What followed?

Laughter…naturally.  Subconsciously, I channeled my dad’s creative cursing.


Who says no?

I try not to partake in reckless endangerment at my own freewill.  Be that as it may, persuading me is one of the simplest tasks out there. I am unsure of where this easily convinced gene stemmed from. I choose to blame it on my older brother and his friends.  Take years of them telling you what to do without an option of saying no and you’ll understand.

Granted I try not to be completely irrational.  I often momentary contemplate the consequences.  Yet the intrinsic pressure to participate typically outweighs the logical option of spectator.  After all sitting on the bleachers probably causes hemorrhoids; so that isn’t a safe bet either.

My asinine decision making skills have injured just that.  Not once, but twice.

Enter the road bike incident of summer 2012.

If you aren’t aware bicycles can have different pedals.  Particular pedals require certain shoes.

I have the pedals and the shoes – I lack the required skill.  This was discovered the hard way, after countless failed attempts and a significant amount of creative cursing from my dad.  F-bomb was flying.  I will not fail to mention the countless bruises in places I didn’t even know existed.

Who know a road bike that weights 12 pounds could dominate me from one side of the road to the other?  Rough day, trust me on this one.  Or as someone put it, un-f’n-believable. Tears and laughter – both happened.

Solution to the road bike dilemma: Summer 2012 – ride the mountain bike with sneakers instead.  My dad determined this option is insufficient and that I will be attempting the road bike again this year.  Enter again – life without an option of saying no.

I’ll let you process this stupidity and soon fill you in on the other asinine injury of mine.  I know the suspense is killing you.

Some thoughts in the mean time:

Warm weather is approaching.
A trip home to visit my parents is in the near future.
My rational reasoning strategies have yet to turn up.  I am sure they are out there with my ability to successful clip-in and out of bike.  I doubt they will be found anytime soon.
Saying, “No.” is yet to be considered acceptable in my childhood home.

Wish me luck.

Out there.

You’ve Got It

Spent a lot of alone time today with one of my favorite people. She taught me a lot about myself. She has no idea, but her repetition of, what I must now assume is a phrase I use often, really got me thinking.

All right she isn’t yet two, but trust me the girl’s recall skills definitely put her in the gifted category.

Let me assure you when she asks for help, I provide the necessary assistance. More often than not, a little moral support is all the situation requires. My go-to inspirational message, “You’ve got it.” (Never said I was a sentimental individual.)

She advocates for herself with a simple, “Help you.”
She encourages herself with a mere, “You’ve got it.”
She celebrates her achievements with clapping and several shouts of, “Yay, you did it!”
She is proud, as we all should be.

Today’s achievements included: long windy walks, reading books, standing trees on her train track, devouring countless snacks, singing, alphabet flashcards, chasing the dog, and laughing – so much laughter.

Life is full of advantageous achievements. We just need to make the time to appreciate them. So what if we are still using the wrong pronoun? Obviously I’ll be struggling with grammar rules for life.

Today’s life lesson from a two-year old: “You’ve got it.”

We’ve all got it, especially on days when we feel as if we don’t.

Keep that in mind. You’re family, friends, even the stranger on the street – you’ve all got it.
Encourage one another, respect one another, and learn from one another.

Tell me how you’ve got it.
Get it trending.

(Yes, I realize I had to change you’ve to you have per hashtag rules and now my hashtag ends with tit. Life. I’ve got this… sort of.)


Thank you, CK. You’re going to be a great big sister, “You’ve got it!”


After reading I am sure you will disagree with me.  Nonetheless I am not concerned, my four followers know I am preposterous.  They continue to read, I owe them.  If it’s your first time reading, give me some hate via a comment, but come back again sometime, please.

While using a friend’s computer this weekend I clicked on the Pinterest tab.  Just one of my weekend mistakes.

Now, yes, I have my own Pinterest account.  No, I don’t use it.  I just had to reset my password because it has been that long since I have logged in.  This weekend I was reminded why this is true.

My thoughts on Pinterest.

  • Do people have to pin everything they see?
  • How do you pin the most decadent desert and 12 seconds later a lean legs workout?
  • Oh, you like that outfit?  Couldn’t you just go out and buy it?  I am pretty sure you will think it is cute at the store, even if you don’t pin it.
  • You are getting married?  Please, stop pinning I want to be surprised with the details.
  • Hair tutorials. My hair doesn’t do that.  Point blank.  Your hair does, so I hate you.
  • Dream house, you obviously missed the keyword there folks – dream.
  • The “board” for your future children confused me.  Do you know you are single?
  • It’s hard to imagine, but teachers planned lessons pre-Pinterest.
  • Those are your abs?  Again, I hate you.  I know you don’t really look that good.
  • DIY – NLG (Never looks that good)
  • The quotes.  Granted I lack a sensitivity chip or several, however aren’t the quotes a little much for even the most genuine hopeless romantic out there.  #enoughsaid

Pinterest and its organized chaos are following the technology trend and changing the way we solve problems.  Pinterest is undeniably a valuable resource to countless users; I am not the norm (shocking).  For this reason, I think my mom might be proud.

You will be surprised to know, I was not endorsed for these opinions, rather they are entirely my own.

If you disagree, please share.  After all I not only bash Pinterest, but my friends too.  They just roll with the punches and bring comebacks.  I hope you will do the same.


No Love, Just Laughter

If coupons for hugs aren’t going to cut it this year, you still have time.

Groupon is here to help…


and Living Social…

Living Social

If you would rather just share the laughter, YouTube is where it’s at.

No love this year, just laughter.  Single or not you will enjoy.

From my heart to yours.

Oh and since you are free on the 14th, how about a… new FB profile pic?



I owned (yup, past tense) a pair of seersucker pants.  They always looked rather chic – hanging in my closet.

I wore them once.  I am convinced they were see-through.  I can also guarantee they accentuated the cottage cheese dimples of my derrière. Thankfully it is impossible for this fashion faux pas to ever happen again.

You see, a few months ago I tried the seersucker pants on.  Tried being the key word.  Are you aware of what seersucker sounds like as it is being stretched beyond its capable limits?   I am now extremely familiar with the sound of shredding cotton.

Final verdict – I am the sucker here.

I split my pants.

I laughed hysterically.

I immediately went to the kitchen and ate peanut butter straight from the jar.

While I am on the honesty train… I didn’t waste time putting on another pair of pants.  I stood in the kitchen, in my skivvies, with a spoon, and a jar of PB.

This is how I deal.