Tiger in the Tank!

It's true.

I am with child.
I have a tiger in my tank.
I'm knocked up.
I am harboring a fugitive.
I am developing a crotch parasite.
I have a bun in the oven.
I've been screwed.

Tommy and I found out on August 9th that not only do pregnancy tests NOT take 5 minutes to give a postive result, but that I am also pregnant.

I am addicted to pregnancy tests have been taking at least one a month for forever, much to Tommy's chagrin ("they're expensive!"). I can't help it. But on this particularly joyous day, the test did not stop at one pink line...but immediately (and I mean IMMEDIATELY) registered 2 pink lines. If I hadn't already peed in the toilet, I would have just peed my pants.

I called Tommy, he came home (where I presented him with two pee filled sticks...he was thrilled) and we went to dinner to celebrate and gossip about our impending bundle of joy...AHH!

The signs that I should have seen:

The first sign that indicated I might be pregnant is when ShopItToMe had a 1/2 off sale on skinny jeans and the only size they had in stock was mine. It was FATE! Of course I purchased them and took them to get them altered. Only fate would have you alter your first pair of skinny jeans on the day you find out you're pregnant. So now, of course, I can't return them. So, I've pretty much been wearing skinny jeans every single day and plan to squeeze myself into them until I can no longer suck in my gut anymore.

The second sign was that Kroger had Black Box wine on sale the previous weekend. Tommy and I, being the classy folk that we are, purchased 6 (yes, 6) boxes (yes, boxes) of wine (yes, that's 6 BOXES of wine), because well, they were on sale and if you buy 6 you get an additional 10% off.

The third sign was that I joined a 3rd gym the week prior to finding out I was "with child". Luckily, I joined this gym for it's pool and since I plan on swimming up until the day I give birth, this wasn't a terrible move...but lately I've been to disgustingly sick to even think about swimming. So I am a member of 3 gyms...and I haven't been to a single one of these gyms in the last 12 weeks.

And the fourth and final sign was that I accidentally purchased a pair of childrens shoes. I think this is the universe telling me that my child will be punk/grunge. This does not bode well for me.

Alas, despite all these signs, I was still surprised when that second pink line appeared on the stick. Nobody gets lucky enough to find 1/2 off skinny jeans or sales on wine all in the same week...unless they won't be able to use them. Damn you Universe!!

****************
Now for some rules:

Do not touch my belly. Unless I like you. But even then, it's best not to touch the belly. I will remove your arms with my teeth.

Do not use the words "preggo" or "preggy" or "hubby". Unless you are 5. If you are older than 5, it is time to learn to speak properly. Update: This also includes "preggers" and any other variations of fake words.

Do not tell me your labor horror stories. Not sure who you think you are helping here.
****************

In other news: When training for Ironman, I compared the training to pregnancy and the race to labor. The rules for me racing Ironman were similar to the rules listed above. No touching the belly, no "preggo" or "hubby", and no racing horror stories. So, so far, I'm right on the mark!!

But really, so far, it's been pretty similar. I'm on information overload, the result is still too far away to really grasp, I feel like total horse sh1t and I am exhausted. This is all pretty much like Ironman!

Speaking of Ironman, I doubt I will be racing IMTX in May. While I do planning on keeping up my volume (as much as possible), I have no intent of keeping it up to the level that would be required to complete an Ironman. In addition to that, after pushing a baby out of my vagina in April, I seriously doubt that sitting on a very small bike seat for 6+ hours in May will sound appealling. Soooo, that's in the toilet. I plan on appealling to the WTC to see if I can defer until 2012, but even then, I'm not sure I will be ready to race with an infant either. We will see!! Either way, Cletus the Fetus and I will be there on race day to cheer on Daddy Blain and all our friends!

War of the Roses.

Here in H-town, there is a morning radio show on 104.1 with hosts Roula and Ryan. I do not normally listen to 104.1 because the music is very teeny bopper and terrible. It's something Janelle would like. :) A little too much Justin Beiber for my tastes. But on Thursdays, magical, magical Thursdays, they do the War of the Roses.

War of the Roses is a segment where a woman (usually a woman, but it can be a man) calls in and fears her man is cheating on her. Roula then pretends to be a florist and calls the man to offer him a dozen long stem roses. When the man ultimately gives them to a woman other than his beloved, they get to air all their dirty laundry on the radio. And it is excellent.

Today, a man called in, concerned that his newly thin and attractive wife had spent the majority of the holiday weekend getting wasted with her girlfriends and was therefore too hungover to spend time with him and their 3 children. Roula called the wife, offered her a weekend getaway with a couples massage and asked the names that needed to be on a reservation. The wife asked if she could think about who she would want to bring. Poor husband. (I know I shouldn't get joy out of other's people misery, but normal people don't call radio shows to air their dirty laundry, so I'm over it) Obviously the husband was upset.

They began discussing why she didn't want to go out with him and it ultimately came down to the fact that he wears jean shorts.

She doesn't love him anymore because he wears jean shorts.

And has Doc Martens. (Which btw, I think are coming back in style. If you wait long enough...)

I immediately called Tommy and let him know that a call from Roula is in his future if he continues to sport the jorts. He was very unconcerned.

The Universe.

The universe is against me.

Today, I overslept because I accidentally set my alarm for 4:30PM instead of AM. I awoke at 6:15AM, fully refreshed for the day ahead. And missed my workout.

I took it in stride - obviously my body wanted more sleep. Darn!

I packed my gym bag with two options for the afternoon - I could either bike at a spin class or hit the pool.

I arrived at work only to realize that I forgot tennis shoes (I blame Tommy for cleaning the house and hiding my shoes in the garage, "where they belong". No good deed goes unpunished!). Sooo, cycling was out. Guess I'm going to the pool!

And then it rained all day. Which means the pool is closed. [shaking fist at Tropical Storm Hermoine]

3 attempts to work out today and all 3 were shot down. The universe obviously wants me to sit on the couch, eat a giant vat of ice cream, and call it day.

Done and done.

Dramatic Chipmunk

This is worth every single one of the 5 seconds.

I AM A WOMAN!!

A couple of weeks ago, I decided I wanted a pair of Chuck Taylors. These are not fancy shoes, in fact, most would consider them a shoe of leisure. A tennis shoe if you will.

I had no idea how difficult it would be to purchase these shoes.

I went online and searched around until I found the cheapest pair around - $18.99 @ Kohl's. I placed my order and waited patiently for them to arrive. When the box on my doorstep showed up, I was quickly realized the error of my ways when the delivery box was TEENY TINY. I had ordered Chuck Taylors fit for a 2 year old.

Awesome.

I loaded up my box, went to UPS and shipped them back with a nasty note indicating that NO WHERE did it indicate that these were childrens shoes.

So I went online again. Gave up the search for the cheapest pair and just went with the place where I could get free shipping. JCPenney's. Done and done. $39.99 and my Chuck Taylors are in the mail.

When they arrive, I am glad the box is a normal size but when I pull the shoes out, I think to myself, "man, these look huge", but try them on anyway. Sure enough, they are huge. I have just purchased myself a pair of MEN'S size 8 Chuck Taylors.

Excellent.

I now have 2 pairs of Chucks, none of which will fit any of the members of my family (dogs included)(I tried). I'm afraid to order online again...I've already wasted about $20 in shipping alone and I have nothing to show for it. Anyone know where I can find size 8 WOMEN'S Chuck Taylors?? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Family Circus

A couple of family classics from the Bennett Family Story Book:

One time, my parents dog diarrhea'd in the living room while my parents were at work. They have a robotic vacuum that vacuums while they are away. Normally, this is a nice feature. On this particular day, however, with diarrhea in the middle of the room, vacuuming was not optimal. Roomba drug poop all over the house. Mom came home, saw the poop and promptly left with emergency plans for happy hour. She just giggled to herself when dad came home to the mess. Evil. Pure evil.

I love Kevin Smith. Heart him. Have loved all his movies and spent a lot of time in high school watching Mallrats and Clerks. When I heard about Chasing Amy, I just had to rent it. My dad had also heard how good it was, so we rented it together one night, made our popcorn and sat down to view. And then the opening scene was two women doing things to each other no father daughter combo should ever witness together. Dad promptly decided it was time to clean the kitchen.

At Thanksgiving one year, my mom decided to make homemade gravy. Now, while my mom can cook up a great many dishes, she is not the culinary wizard that I am (hahahaha)and the gravy turned out to look a lot more like diarrhea than gravy. It was lumpy, yet runny and a disturbing shade of brown. I, of course, found this to be absolutely hysterical and could not stop laughing. I was laughing so hard I was crying. I eventually had to remove myself from the Thanksgiving meal and eat alone in the other room. I was at least 23 when this happened. I shall never grow up.

When the blogging gets old, the old get older by blogging old ridiculous stories.

There is also the time my parents drank too much Franzia and locked me and my sister out of the house. Hahaha. Now THAT's a story that never gets old. My mom has lived in fear her whole life that I would tell everyone that story...muuuuhahahahaha. And I still turned out okay. Who knew?

Recluse.

I haven't been writting because I haven't really left my house much in the last few weeks. Therefore, I have nothing to write about. Sorry kiddos! I know you are tragically sad.

I've been hole-ing up in my casa because I just got tired from all the travelling and the working out and the blah! My grandma passed away and Tommy I drove to Dallas after work on a Friday, to Odessa on Monday after working from my parents house all day, and then back to Houston on Tuesday after the funeral. We both worked most of Monday and Tuesday, got back in town around 1am Tuesday night, worked Wed-Fri and then packed up to drive to New Orleans for the weekend. That's over 2000 miles of car trip, in one week, while working 40 hours, attending a funeral and a high school reunion. No wonder my face looked like a giant zit at the reunion.

Hence, I am exhausted. I don't want to get in the car to drive ANYWHERE anytime soon. We were supposed to go to Dallas this weekend for my first attempt at a 1:50 half marathon, but the thought of driving there makes me want to hurl a little, sooo, there are two bibs up for grabs if anyone wants them.

In other news, Tommy and I scored free 10th row seats on the first baseline to the Astros game. This game started off precariously when the beer man refused to serve me beer. I am 29 years old for crying out loud. Give me the dam beer. And then the baked potato line didn't have any cheese. WTF. What the hell kind of baseball game IS this?

But then things turned around.

I caught a ball!! Well, actually it landed in my chicken fingers (I WANTED a baked potato, but a potato without cheese, well, that's just sad) but I figure I can say that I caught it. But THEN the guy next to me leans over and asks if I have kids. I say no. He says he has a 6 year old and an 8 year old and can he have my ball. I hand it to him. 5 minutes later I ask for it back. Asshole didn't even bring his kids with him to the game. He can let his kids have a ball when he decides to bring them. What a jerk.

BUT THEN THINGS TURNED AROUND.

We got on the kiss cam. WHAT? This was approximately 2 seconds after I said there was no way we could be on the kiss cam. And then my friend called to tell me he saw me and I was famous.

Tommy wore his new fancy jersey (three men complemented him on it...I think I did good!) and I am now famous. Go me.

And then the next day we got to run the bases at the park.

BEST. WEEK. IN. BASEBALL. EVER.

But pretty much after that, I haven't left my house. I mean, how can you top that? You can't. And I'm not gonna try. I'm pooped and all I want to do is sleep in and go to the movies.

SAFETY FIRST!

In my extensive research, on company time, I determined that a spider is in fact both an insect and an arachnid. Arachnid is a sub-species of Insect.

Duh.

Safety is a number one priority at my office. Yes, I said, "at my office", where the most dangerous activity one can engage in is typing. Carpal tunnel is a real issue. Nonetheless, I spend an inappropriately large amount of my time filling out forms for safe working (such as: "Don't put your hands under the hot coffee water" and "Open doors slowly"). I fill out one of these forms weekly and then a larger, more intimidating form on a monthly basis.

I'm all for safety, but really, I work in an office. Any injuries I sustain, short of the refrigerator falling on me, are likely my fault at the whim of my stupidity.

But luckily for me, and the safety of all my colleagues, my company employs a Safety Man. His sole job is to write up safety reports on incidents that occur in the building. I assume he gets paid buckets of money for doing this job.

Last week, I recieved an 8 page presentation on a bug bite an employee recieved while at the office. In the presentation, the Safety Guy jumped back and forth from calling it a bug bite, an insect bite and a spider bite...I was so confused. Let's get the facts straight pal!! The verdict of the Root Cause Investigation (that I am sure took many an overtime hour) was that the victims cubicle was a filthy hell hole that probably harbored animals much worse than bugs. But because he was a filthy beast of a man, we were all forced to endure an 8 page slideshow presentation about his bug bite. A bug bite that just itched a little. It's not like it was a brown recluse bite or had severe swelling. No, it just itched. A little.

Are you kidding me??

Then, this week, I recieve a quick and dirty note about how the elevators have been recalled...and to just "be careful".

An itchy bug bite warrants 8 pages and a recalled elevator gets a quick snippet of an email??

I'll take the stairs.

Puppies!

Ah, the joys of dog ownership.

Dixie is a wonderful dog. She is cuddly and playful and pretty smart, although, at this point, she is more belligerent than anything else. Then again, most parents say their kids are pretty smart and the poor stupid kid can barely quack like a duck. So, who am I to speculate on the genius-ness of Dixie the Dog? She is probably dumber than a box of rocks.

And I have met some dumb rocks.

But so far her biggest issue is that she eats Don. Don doesn't seem to mind this, as he is very fluffy and probably doesn't even notice that she is his own personal grooming service. She eats him and pulls the excess hair off of him which would be great except that she is too dumb to spit it out...so it gets swallowed. Which then means Don's hair hits her stomach and digestive track, only to be pooped out in a giant Dixie the Dog sized terd. With hair in it. And if the terd comes out, but all the hair does not, then there is a giant terd hanging from her butt by a long string of Don's hair. And since Dixie does not possess opposable thumbs, the task of terd removal lies completely on the parents. Me.

So, on Tuesday, I donned a pair of plastic gloves and some paper towels and got about the task of terd removal.

Dixie was pleased to have this nuisance removed, but then, in her stupidity, she swallowed a giant hunk of Don.

Lovely. I'm almost certain she could get into Harvard.
Woe is me.

EL DIABLO!!

Life. It Happens.

To fill you in on my several week absence:

I signed up for Ironman Texas. Tommy signed up for Ironman Texas. Pretty much every triathlete we know signed up for Ironman Texas. The training will be very fun...but very cold. The race will be very fun...but very hot. I'm really looking forward to training with all my friends, racing in town and completing my second Ironman. The pressure is off this time...if I suck, I suck, but hey, I'm already an Ironman!! Who cares?!?!

We got to take a staycation over the 4th of July and it was so awesome. We took a cab downtown and stayed at the Four Seasons where we got a free upgrade to a pool side room. We spent the afternoons lounging by the pool, getting spritzed with Evian (wtf?!?) and ordering $14 margaritas (we only had 1). The best part of a vacation in town is that it's super easy to bring your own wine!

We came home to a new puppy - Dixie - that we were allowed to foster for a few days to decide if we wanted to adopt her (what a great option!) and of course, once we got adjusted to life with a puppy, we fell in love with her!
Dixie the Dog is here to stay.

As far as workouts go, we are trying to get back into it and get some consistency. My swimming is pretty much an epic fail...but I don't really know what I can expect when I only swim once a month. My biking is staying pretty consistent and I can't complain there. My running isn't going as well as I would like...but again, this is entirely because I haven't actually been running. I think my goal of completing a 1:50 half marathon is pretty much ridiculous at this point. That said, we participated in HRTC's BassAckWards Triathlon this past weekend and did really well...and had a blast. Swimming after biking and running is much harder than you would think.

And we hit up an Astro's game - thanks to Melissa - Tommy wore his new fancy jersey, I caught a ball AND we were on the KissCam. I mean, really? All in one day?!? (I think this was the ballpark apologizing for not serving me beer at the concession stand despite the fact that I am 29 years old and my ID looks JUST like me).

So, things are going well - I feel refreshed after our staycation and I am ready to tackle the world!! I just need to get home today so I can play with my puppies!!

HYPERVENTILATING!

OMG. Ironman is coming to Houston!

Ironman Texas will be in the Woodlands on May 21, 2011. Registration opens tomorrow and you can bet your bottom dollar that my finger will be poised over submit at precisely 12:01PM.

I'm too excited to sleep!

Oil Spill Re-enacted by Cats.

I love talking animals. I love talking animals with british accents.

Please take this 1 minute and 29 seconds and watch this video.



UPDATE: I'd like it to be known that I hate cats. I think they are creepy and I am relatively certain they are going to claw my eyes out. That being said, if all cats spoke with a British accent, I think we could all sit down and have a very civilized discussion. Thanks Natalie. :)

Is it Kroger? Or Krogers?

This is the endless debate. The good news is that Kroger(s) is single handedly making people more dumb just for having walked through their automatic sliding glass doors.

I called Kroger(s) today to order a cupcake cake for Tommy's birthday. (I don't care what people say, cupcake cakes ROCK. They are easy to cut, no clean up, and you can never have too much icing. So suck it.)

I spoke to a man we will call Ben Dover. Our conversation went something like this:

Ben Dover: Hi. (There were no pleasantries, of "Hi, this is Ben, thanks for calling Kroger(s).", just "Hi".)

Me: Hi, yeah, is this Kroger(s) bakery?

Ben Dover: Um, yeah, this is the bakery.

Me: I'd like to order a cupcake cake please.

Ben Dover: You want to place an order? (as though this is the first time this has been done. Ever.)

Me: Yes please. I'd like like a cupcake cake with 16 cupcakes in a square. (this is for an adult, really, we don't need anything fancy)

Ben: What kind?

Me: I'd like white cake with white icing.

Ben Dover: Wait, I thought you wanted a cupcake cake?

Me: I do - 16 in a square.

Ben Dover: But you just said you wanted white cake?

Me: Yes, I would like a cupcake cake made with white cake and white icing.

Ben Dover: But...?

Me: You DO know that cupcake are made out of cake, right?

Ben: Oh.

...I placed my order and finished this phone call quickly. I will pick it up tomorrow. Only the good lord knows what this cake will actually look like.

Kroger(s): Making people dummer since 1934.

There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

I'm here to prove you wrong Mom. There IS such a thing as free lunch. And I scored it thrice last week.

Take that.

However, only once did I know it was going to be free and was able to take full advantage of it. Darn you miso glazed chilean seabass! You are too delicious!

A huge storm rolled through H-town in the middle of the night last week and instead of turning our power off, it turned our bedroom lights ON. At 1AM, our bedroom light turned ON to the tune of lightening crashing. I just about had a heart attack. I got up to pee, turned the lights off, got back into bed, was just about to doze off, and the lights turned ON AGAIN. Seriously. What kind of twilight zone is this??

I got this new supa dupa cool phone and despite it's extreme lack of a decent alarm, it's pretty badass. That said, you know how it's fun to get the mail from the mailbox when you get home from work because you never know what's gonna be in there? Well, my email used to be kind of like that. I never checked it at night, so when I got to work each morning, it was like opening the mailbox to find all sorts of prizes. My hew fancy phone has stolen this novelty from me. There is no longer joy when I arrive at work and turn on my computer...because while it's booting up, I'm checking the latest messages on my phone.

A small part of me has died.

Tommy and I each got 4th place at the Tejas Triathlon this weekend - and because awards went 5 deep, we each got a plaque! The Blain's are rolling in hardware! Now, if I could just get my bike to 23mph, I will slaughter dem hoes. Shannon Parker is gonna make me go all Tonya Harding on her if she doesn't stop beating me ASAP.

My friend Mike looks just like the bad agent guy in the movie Bolt. Talking hampsters named Rhino are effing hysterical.

And if you love Newsies (and/or Christian Bale), large groups of dancing men, and really bad pop music, you will find this entertaining. It might make you mourn for your childhood just a little, but then you will add Christian to your List of 5 Famous People You Can Sleep With Should They Show Up At Your Door and you will realize that, man, being old rocks because it's no longer creepy if Christian Bale were to sleep with me.

Mystery of the Beep

Unfortunately for you, my faithful few, I have nothing exciting to talk about. It was kind of a rough week, all in all, and I am ready for it to be over.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up, got dressed for the pool and realized that I couldn't go to the pool because I had a dentist appointment early before work...so I changed into bike clothes and hopped on the trainer. I am terrified of the dentist and hadn't slept well all week in preparation of this appointment...how could I have forgotten about it?!?

My hammies were angry from dead lifts the day before (they hurt so much...must be working!!) and biking was very far from what I wanted to do. But I DID get caught up on my Bachelorette, which is the worst show in the world...yet, I can't stop watching. Then, after my pitiful attempt at a workout, I got off the bike to find a mysterious beeping emanating from somewhere in the house.

I began my quest to solve the Mystery of the Beep. It sounded like a smoke detector beep, but after hauling chairs to all the rooms in the house (it's a small house) I determined that it wasn't a smoke detector. The beeping was starting to make me crazy. Added to the stress of the dentist appointment, I was at my wits end. WITS END (spoken in the voice of Iago in Aladdin). I hurried to get dressed, with the beeping breathing down my neck, and left for the dentist.

No cavities and minimal pain. The technician even said I was a big girl and was getting better. I only bit her a couple of times. So proud!!

I left for work, stress only minimally relieved...the dentist was over, but the beeping had to be sending the dog into hysteria.

At work, I upped my dosage of Metformin, the drug of evil geniuses, and proceeded to dry heave for the rest of the morning. I haven't had any real problems associated with the Metformin up until now - aside of lack of physical ability and reduced appetite - but on Wednesday, the sight of a piece of bread had me running to the bathroom. On Wednesday, I ate an apple and a salad...all day. On Thursday, I ate 2 chicken breasts...all day. Today is going better, but I got about 3/4 of the way through a sandwich until it started to reverse it's fortune. Metformin sucks. On the other hand, I am the skinniest I have been since I was 14...so, I guess there's that.

After all the hurling and such on Wednesday, I find out that I did not get a job I had interviewed for...but then I couldn't go home because it would look like I was so upset by the job. So I had to suffer through the rest of the day. Awful. Working when I all I want to do is hurl, when I haven't eaten, I've had no caffiene (oh and I gave up caffiene this week...bad timing!), and I've just been rejected for a job is not my ideal afternoon.

Nonetheless, I forged onward and treated myself to a mani/pedi. And I didn't puke on the nail girls, so that was a bonus.

I got home and found my wonderful husband cleaning up the chair havok I had created in the morning. And he had found the source of the beeping...an old carbon monoxide detector that we never hung, stuck in the back of a cabinet in the laundry room. I guess it needs new batteries now, eh?

Then we attempted to ease my pain with some retail therapy at T-Mobile - I've been needing a new phone for like 7 years, but wanted to wait till my contract ran out so I could get an iPhone. But then I remembered that I despise AT&T and Verizon hasn't unveiled theirs yet, soooo, T-Mobile it is. And they were having a "Buy one, get one free" deal...so Tommy and I now have matching phones. Very 2008. Mine has a very cool fuschia case.

Anyways, nothing fun or funny here. Just trucking along. I DID get a pair of racing flats named Green Silence though. And that's enough to make anyone's week tolerable.

I Apologize to my Adoring Fans.

Ha. But seriously. I hate not blogging for such a long time. But sadly for me, they have blocked blogger at my office (OMG!!). This is good for my company because I will no longer waste time scouring the blogs of my internet friends, but bad for my company because in reality, I will find something else to look at or consume more than my fair share of Flavia. And that sh1t ain't cheap.

Nonetheless, I haven't blogged in almost a month. Holy crap.

To recap my uneventful life, this month I have:

Started all the medications associated with PCOS and insulin resistance. Thus far, this has not gone well. Metformin is an evil drug.
Raced the first half ironman event of the year - missed my goal my 26 minutes (I blame the Metformin), but PRed by 30 minutes...so not all was lost. I hate Mickey Mouse.
Hung out on the beach and acheived a sunburn. Quite impressive if you are me.
Swam with stingrays, got pinched by a crab (and then ate his siblings), watched a pod of dolphins.
Ate crawfish bread, boiled crabs, hung out with the in-laws and just generally relaxed. I have yet to bathe today. And I ran 5 miles this morning.
Driven (and by drive, I mean, be a passenger) almost 2000 miles in less than a week. My butt hurts.

I will update with anecdotes and race reports soon. Until then, can you all please just start emailing me your blogs? Stupid work firewall.

Weddingpalooza 2010

It's OVER! Finally.

Congratulations to all my wonderful friends who all chose to get married at exactly the same time!!

In chronoloical order):
Ashley and Mark
Amber and Bill
Janelle and Thomas
Katey and Erik
Sara and Ashton

I love you all very much and I am so happy for each of you! However, if you all chose to get pregnant and have babies at the exact same time, we will be drawing names out of a hat because I can't survive that again. Send me your ovulation schedules and we will work something out.

I had a bachelorette party, bachelorette party, wedding, wedding, wedding, wedding...for the last six weekends. I'm sick, I'm tired, my liver is shrivelled, and I've lost my voice. I've consumed about 4 bottles of Nyquil, 6 bags of cough drops, eleventy billion bottles of wine, and 14 pounds of wedding mashed potatoes. I've danced to the YMCA*, The Cupid Shuffle**, Celebration, and You Look Wonderful Tonight. I've fake caught a bouquet, laughed at toasts, made toasts and cried.

All in all, it was a wonderful month where my best friends married their best friends (not me, their OTHER BFF's)...I am so thankful that they were all able to find the kind of love and happiness that I have. But DUDE, could we not have spaced that sh1t out a little?

My first stop was Janelle's bachelorette party in Galveston - we had wine and girl talk (I also took Mall Madness - the greatest game EVER). We lost power and the weather was terrible, but it was a great weekend with our girlfriends!

Weekend 2 of Weddingpalooza was Sara's bachelorette party in Austin - we went to hill country wineries, drank champagne and danced the night away (with the 37 other bachelorette parties that weekend!).


Easter Weekend was Ashley and Mark's wedding reception at Cadillac Bar - we acted a fool in the photobooth and danced a fool on the dancefloor. Mark has his work cut out for him, but dam, he is a lucky man! Love you Mash!


Bill and Amber got hitched the weekend after in Richmond, TX - sandwiched between 2 triathlons and the beginnings of sick, we still danced with old friends and enjoyed the night out! Congrats you guys!

Then it was time for the big one - our BFF's Janelle and Thomas tied the knot in Houston - the wedding weekend just about killed me - dancing, drinking, staying up late and already being sick was not a great combo. But their wedding weekend was a blast, it was beautiful and our closest friends are now honeymooning in Anguilla - I am so happy for them! I'm not sure that Thomas knows what he has gotten himself into, but I promise that she is worth it!


And last but not least, on the same weekend, in separate cities, two of my closest friends decided to wed on the same day. Siiigh. Erik married Katey in Houston and Sara married Ashton in Dallas. We had planned to meet Erik and Co. out on Friday night but we were both sick and generally feeling like death (not ideal company) and ended up just going to bed. I heard their wedding was beautiful and I was terribly sad to miss it. On Saturday we drove to Dallas for Sara and Ashton's wedding - we saw wonderful old friends, watched my oldest friend married her best friend, and even without power, it was a wonderful reception!


So congrats to all of you! I am so happy for you...and I am so thankful to be home, on my couch, with no plans for the weekend...I wouldn't survive another wedding. I was still sweating champagne on Monday after work. Gross.

*I never actually danced to the YMCA. Apparently this song is numero uno on bridal "Do Not Play" lists.
**This song is terrible. I encourage all brides to take a cue from the YMCA and add it to the "Do Not Play" list. Please. I'm begging.

LOST

I am obsessed with LOST. I read blogs, I read chats, I live, eat, breathe, worship LOST. My biggest fear right now is dying before LOST is over and I won't know how it ends. The horror! (should I die before LOST ends, I expect to be buried in my pjs, on a couch, with a tv set to DVR that sh1t...even when I'm dead, I'm too busy for commercials)

And this is the greatest summary of LOST EVER. I hate cats, but LOLCats is good stuffs.

The Swim

Last weekend at the Olympic distance race, I got the ever living crap beat out of me during the swim. I found this video simulating the swim start on Caratunk Girl's blog and I think it sums it up pretty well.

My one word of advice to anyone starting triathlon for the first time is to get comfortable in the water...because odds are, this is what your swim will be like...

Clif Bar Swimulation

The Olympic

Last weekend, we raced the Sprint distance tri on Saturday, went home, took a nap, hung out with Tiffany and Harold and then drove out to Richmond for Bill and Amber's wedding...where drank wine and danced our little hearts out! We got home around 11pm, packed our bags for Sunday's Olympic distance race (1500m swim, 25 mile bike, and 10K run) and set the alarm for 3:30am. 3.5 hours of sleep is not IDEAL for proper recovery and fueling for a race, but eh, that's what we had!

Alarms went off and I skipped my ritual pre-race shower (I need wet hair for my braids) in an effort to sleep more...I TOTALLY did not want to go. Between the allergies, the wedding, and the sheer exhaustion, if Tommy had given me even the slightest hestitation about going to the race, I totally would have bailed. I sooooo did not want to be racing and I knew the day was going to be rough considering how hard I had pushed myself the day before.

We drove to Kemah (AGAIN), set up transition, squished into wetsuits, wandered down to the docks and boarded our respective boats for the swim start. This particular race is a qualifier for Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon and it starts with party barges dropping us off in the middle of the ocean (like the Escape) and then we get to swim to shore. While we were waiting to board our respective boats, Andy Potts (a super cutie professional triathlete) walked up and I was able to score a piture with him. I'm also pretty sure I grabbed his butt (totally on accident...and it was nice...although, that could have been the neoprene). I, unfortunately, am not good when talking to famous people...I tend to stutter and do stupid things (like grab people's butts) when I get nervous, so our conversation went a little like this:
Me: Heehee (snort) hehuhhaaheehee
Andy: Yeah, so, um, wanna take a picture?
Me: Heeheheh (snort/butt grab)

As you can see, I am totally geeked out and I have my crazy eyes on. I do not have many social skillz.

After all the Andy Potts butt-grabbing, I boarded my boat with all the women from the race. We spent about an hour on the boat, gossiping and freaking each other out. Merry peed in her wetsuit and while we encouraged her to stick her legs off the side of the boat to let it drain out, she opted to wallow in it. Triathlon is a dirty, dirty, disgusting sport.

We hopped in the water and I was pleased to find out that the water was not nearly as bad as the day before. It was still choppy, but not as bad and since we were only swimming with the current (never against it) it just wasn't as bad. This swim, however, was one of the most aggressive swims I have ever been on - women were punching and I swear to you that I got b1tch slapped across the face. It was insane. And the waves were big enough and the bouys were small enough that you couldn't really sight much of anything. My swim still sucked, but not NEARLY as bad as it did the day before...getting the crap beat out of me by some hoes really sucked up my adrenaline and wore me out! I finished the swim in a respectable (but not good) 36:25.1. Definitely not my best effort - I should be swimming below 30 minutes, but considering the effor the day before, the sickness and the late night of partying, I will call it a wash!

T1 was quicker than the day before, but I had to stop and pee (in my pants...why waste time in a portacan?) but I figured out the wetsuit thing a little better...into bike shoes and I was off.

The bike was not as good as the day before - as to be expected - and I didn't pass nearly as many people, but up and over Kemah twice and I was to the flat part for 12 miles (my specialty!). Then up and over Kemah twice more and 12 more miles of flat...I gained a lot of ground on the bike and pushed it as hard as I could go. My legs were feeling okay, but I just couldn't make them go any faster...so, I only averaged 19.9mph on the bike. I was really hoping to break 20mph again, but all things considered, I will just shut my mouth! I biked in 1:25.1 and moved from 7th to 3rd place.

In T2, I put on socks (I was glad I had done this the day before) and off I went.

I didn't wear my garmin or heart rate monitor again - I just didn't want to know. I was going to run as hard as I could for as long as I could and I didn't need a watch telling me anything! My plan was to kill the run as best as I could...but since I had PR'ed my 5K the day before (by 2 minutes!) I wasn't expecting much. Tommy passed me on my way out (he was on his way home) and he told me that Francis was the guy in front of me. I couldn't see anyone in front of me, so I just kept on trucking...eventually I caught up to Francis - we were both hurting pretty bad! I saw Merry and Ingrid on the run as well...and everyone was looking pretty good (considering!). I was able to maintain my speed at about an 8:30 mile for the whole 10K (I just used the lap timing feature on my watch) and finished up the 10K in 52:13.6. I felt like death - I have never ever felt that bad after a run. I couldn't smile, I couldn't wave, I couldn't pick it up for a mad dash to the finish...I was DONE. And it felt amazing. My run wasn't great compared to the rest of the field, but once again, considered my PR the day before, I will shut my mouth and be happy!

I held onto 3rd place to get a spot on the podium and scored a qualifying spot to Alcatraz!! A 2:48 finish wouldn't have placed me in any of the other age groups, but it is very respectable and a significant improvement over my other olympic distance times...I'm very proud of what I have accomplished this year!

All in all, I had a super exhausting sick weekend and had the best races I could have hoped for! No complaints here!!

I always tend to race better when I'm a little under the weather...it just doesn't make sense!

Congrats to Tommy who scred 5th in his age group, Kim who got 5th in our age group, Team Jam got 2nd in the relay, and to Ingrid and Merry for racing so well!

Cookies Under the Bed.

I struggle with my weight. You've read blog after blog after blog after blog about me whining about my weight. My biggest issue is not necessarily how much I weigh or how I look...it's more about how hard I have to work to look this way.

Looking the way I do shouldn't take much effort - an easy jog a couple of times a week and eating what I do should be more than enough to maintain my current figure, but it's not. I have seen nutritionists and complained to my friends but as a general rule, they shake their heads and look at me with a look that says "I know you have a box of Girl Scout cookies under your bed so stop your whining. Eat less, workout more."

I have been saying for awhile now that there is something else going on and after a trip to an endocrinologist, a lot of lab work, and a week of waiting, the results are in. I was right...there IS something wrong with me!

It's kind of bittersweet because having something wrong with me obviously isn't ideal, but it's nice to have the answers that I have been looking for for so long and to finally hear that it wasn't all in my head. There is no way I could lose weight...my body WAS rejecting me. Despite my diagnoses, I feel satisfied knowing that it wasn't all in my head...that I WAS doing the best I could possibly do...that I WAS doing the right and healthy thing...and that without some sort of intervention, nothing was going to change.

So, the verdict: I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). In short, I have too much testosterone and I have numerous small cysts located along the outer edge of each ovary.

There are several symptoms of PCOS - excessive hair growth, acne, irregular periods (sorry guys)...and obesity. Generally (but not always) women with PCOS are excessively overweight. I have what they deem to be "Compensatory PCOS"...which basically means that the only reason I don't weigh 300lbs is because I work my butt off every single day...and if I were to stop working out and eating right, I would likely get to the point of seeing 300lbs on the scale.

There are 3 parts to PCOS:
1. Cosmetic - Acne
2. Reproductive - women with PCOS often have a hard time getting pregnant
3. Metabolic - Insulin resistance

We are treating these issues with a number of medications - one of which I am supposed to take "when I know I will be at home for a few days because I will likely have BODACIOUS diarrhea". And yes, the doctor used the word "bodacious" to describe my shit. Looks like we will definitely need to invest in the Turd Tape.

I am supposed to start a low carbohydrate diet (such as South Beach) to combat the insulin resistance. This will be especially hard, because those with insulin resistance tend to crave carbs (of course! Why would it be easy?!?). My biggest challenge will be balancing the low-carb requirements with my exercise - athletes can't easily go low-carb without doing serious damage, so I will be meeting with my nutritionist to discuss the possibilities there.

I also have a low thyroid and high red blood cells...my medicine cabinet now looks like an old lady lives there.

I am a little scared about the diagnoses and what it might mean for Tommy and I and potential little Blains, but my doctor feels confident that it won't create any issues (not that anyone can predict the future, so my best case scenerio is that I'm just not gonna worry about it now), so I am putting my trust in him for the time being.

I finally got the answers I have been searching for. And for that, I am thankful. I have a path forward and an action plan...and it's not all in my head.
All in all, I feel happy that I found someone to listen to me without the condescending look of knowing that I hide cookies under my bed.

The Limit

I pushed myself to the limit and it was awesome!

In the midst of Weddingpalooza 2010, Tommy and I had this bright idea to sign up for Gateway to the Bay Triathlon (both the sprint and the olympic distance races)...and then I got sick and then I had dinner with my BFF...not exactly the most genius of plans. Ooopsie daisy!

I started feeling crappy on Thursday - allergies, cough, runny nose, the whole wonderful nine yards...of snot. But since I tend to race better when I am sick, I figured I would forge onward with my racing plans...

Saturday morning, Tommy and woke up when the kids were coming home from the bar and drove to Kemah for the Sprint distance race (500m swim, 12.5 mile bike, and 5K run). It was cold and dark and windy and I was sick and tired and super cranky...

We set up transition and squished ourselves into our wetsuits and headed down to the swim start only to find SUPER choppy water. Ugh! Jessica and Grizz showed up (Jess
was very stylish in neon) and the race began!

My wave started just as Tommy's was finishing, so I got to see him leading the pack up the to the ramp (it's amazing how you can still recognize your friends when they are in head to toe neoprene, goggles and swim caps). And then my swim wave began...and dear lord it was hard. The water was choppy and the current was pushing us all to the middle of the rectangle we were trying to swim around - I was eating water, sucking wind and just generally crapping my pants. It was a scary swim. Easily the most difficult swim I have ever done in a triathlon. But I survived and came out of the water 5th in my age group in 12:11.4 for 500m. Not a great swim, but seriously, it was about survival...and since I was still 5th, that goes to show you how hard it was!

My first attempt at taking off my wetsuit quickly proved to be a challenge, but I learned a few things that I would put into practice on Sunday. First and foremost, wait till the wetsuit is off to pull of your cap and goggles!

Ran to T1 where I made a game time decision to bike without socks...smart or brave? I dunno.

Headed out to the bike course where I realized that we would be heading up the Kemah bridge right away...no time to build speed and momentum. CRAP! Surprisingly, I was able to get up and over (and pass lots of people), turn around and do it again...and then it was home free, smooth sailing, flat as a pancake riding (my specialty). I was able to pass all the girls in my swim wave and put enough of a gain on them that my crappy run wouldn't matter. I felt awesome on the bike...and maintained an average speed of 20.3 mph! Bike time 37:02 (3rd fastest female bike of the day!!)

Head into T2 and I was the first female bike on the rack...now THAT was a wierd sight! Gametime decision to put on socks and not risk the blisters and I was off and away!

I didn't wear my garmin or my heartrate monitor for this race. I figured that my heartrate should be pretty much redlined, so I couldn't justify having a constant reminder on my wrist that my heart was about to explode out of my chest and I didn't want to know my speed. My plan for the run was to go as hard as I could for as long as I could...and it was ugly.

I was hurting, real real bad. When I got close to the finish line, I tried to speed up, but frankly, redline is redline and I couldn't go any faster. But I finished that 5K run with a 5K PR (shaved 2 minutes of my previous stand-alone 5K time) of 23:27 - average pace of 7:49.

I placed 1st in my age group, 5th overall, hit my goal time of 1:17 exactly (although the ratios of sports was not quite right).

HOLY CRAP!

I have always sworn that I didn't have whatever "it" was that made people go hard and leave it all out there...but on Saturday, I found it. I found "it" and it was amazing. I went as hard as I could for as long as I could and left every ounce of energy I had on that race course. I have never been so proud of an accomplishment.

And then of course, the awards ceremony got rained out and I didn't get to be worshipped by my adoring fans. Siiiigh. Haha. Such is life!

And congrats to all the other HRTCers that placed at the race - Kathleen (third in our age group!), Cassie (1st of the Athenas) and Tommy and Francis who rocked it!

Hit Me Again Jack.

Yesterday I was hit with the lazy stick. And it was glorious.

I missed my first workout for no reason whatsoever. I have missed workouts due to bad planning, oversleeping, lack of sleeping, exhaustion...but I have never bailed on one just because I didn't feel like it (well, at least not in the last year) and it was awesome.

The guilt ate at me for a few hours while I snuggled in bed, but it wasn't bad enough to actually make me get out of bed and join Tommy on the bike trainers. I had to remind myself that I'm not training for an Ironman anymore and I can relax. I can take a day off for no reason (I still went to the gym at lunch, but that doesn't really count), sleep in, and relax. I had slept well the night before, wasn't really tired anymore, but I just didn't feel like getting up yet...and that is okay. Siiiigh.

I still don't think that I am mentally recovered from Ironman training - that need to keep pushing is still there (and I want it gone for awhile!) - but I am definitely getting closer to that happy medium.

That said, I ran 15 miles this weekend...at my best friends bachelorette party. Somethings never change. Ha. But running on the beach at sunrise IS everything it is cracked up to be...siiiigh...and it was totally worth it.

I'm trying to find some people to run with in Austin this weekend while at another friend's bachelorette party...Weddingpalooza 2010 is in full swing!

I also still have the Ironman bug, which may be why I am having a hard time shaking my old ways. I know that taking this year off of Ironman racing is the best choice for me. I need the time to relax and regain some balance...and I want to take the time to get faster. I have so much room for improvement and I can't do it if I keep racing long. But I CANNOT wait until IMFL 2011...I watched Kona this morning on my bike trainer and sobbed like a little girl. What IS it about this crap that makes me weep?!?!

But hit me with the lazy stick again Jack. I could be okay with a little more lazy in my life for now. I've got a sh1t ton of laundry to do. And those yard gnomes won't do it themselves.

4 years!

Tommy and I met 4 years ago today. Time flies!!

I still can't believe that I have been lucky enough to meet my best friend at the right time in our lives to make it work. One day earlier and I might have thought he was a jerk, one day later and someone else would have snatched him up!

We met through a mutual friend at Little Woodrows when LSU and A&M were playing in the basketball finals. We hit it off, but neither of us pursued anything - his life was in a slight stage of turmoil - until mid-April when we happened to get quite drunk and make out at LZ's Pub.

The rest is history!

I have spent the last 4 years of my life with my very best friend - our relationship was anything but simple in the beginning, but it WAS easy. We can talk about anything and there is no one I enjoy more than him.

Our history by numbers:
2: Number of months we dated before he met my parents
8: Number of months we dated before we moved in together
1: Number of times my mom hung up on me when I told her we were moving in together (it was an "accident" she says)
700: Number of square feet in the first "house" that we shared
18: Number of months we survived in that "house" before "upgrading" to another sh1thole
1: Number of times we got robbed in the middle of the night
17: Number of times our cars got broken into in the street
12: Number of days we have spent in France
37,923: Bottles of wine consumed in France
2,234,893: Blocks of cheese consumed in France
2: Number of days we have spent in London
1: Number of Beefeaters I tried to befriend
6: Number of marathons completed
1: Number of marathons begun and finished, but skipped the middle
2: Number of Ironman finishes
1: Week in Hawaii on freezing cold beaches
1: Honeymoon in Curacao with crystal clear water
8: Number of ounces in a standard beer in Curacao (this is just wrong!)
6: Number of bicycles we own
29: Number of water bottles we own
4: Number of times I have moved since we met
3: Number of homes we have lived in together
5: Number of years (we hope) until we get to live on the water
1: Number of dogs we have
11ty Billion: Number of dogs I wish we had
17: Number of times per day I curse our freakishly small garage
9: Pounds of beignets have been eaten (and beignets are light, so that's a lot)
11: Number of months we dated before Tommy proposed
14: Number of times Tommy has threatened divorce over the game Taboo
1: Number of things in a park that start with the letter "J"
4: Number of friends I tried to make on our vacation to Scottsdale who turned out to live in our street
5: Number of times we eat sushi per week
46: Number of times we wish we were eating Cafe Adobe instead
365: Number of days we would like to spend outside
1: Number of weekends we have spent in Germany during Eurocup '08
1: Number of trains on which Tommy had to stow away
1: Number of times we saw my friend dance nekkid in Vegas
2: Number of times I called my mom about my nekkid friend...but don't remember the call
5: Number of dollars spent gambling in Vegas
5,000ish: Number of miles spent biking together
??: Number of miles spent running together
60: Number of granola bars we eat in a week
0: Number of reasons we need to sit outside and drink wine
36: Number of times we say "I love you" every day (I know, it's sickening!)
18: Number of months we dated until we got married
1: Number of times we danced on the bar at our wedding
2: Number of movies available on our Netflix account
300: Worst movie ever rented via Netflix
1: Number of times Tommy has danced to "Single Ladies" by Beyonce at 5AM (I wish this number were higher)
50: Number of inches tall that our laundry pile gets before we decide to fold it
42: Number of times the nest is contiminated each night
3: Number of times each night that Tommy wishes I ate spicy food
6: Number of times each night that I wish Tommy ate bland food
929,348,124.4: Number of times Tommy makes me laugh every day
Infinity: Number of ways I am thankful for Tommy and the love and laughter he brings to my life


Here's to the last 4 years of happiness and many, many, many more to come!

Old Balls. Gross.

I am now 29 years of age. I bet nobody thought I would survive my teenage years, nevermind college, so HA! In your face! I made it! I'm almost 30!

Old balls. For reals.

My age has never really bothered me...all my friends, for my whole life, have always been older than me, so I have never felt old...because I'm always younger than SOMEBODY at the party. The fact that I can barely get into an R-rated movie or buy paint is just icing on that birthday cake.

All is well and good until all my old friends start dropping like flies and I am a lonely old hag, but until that day, I will relish my place as the spring chicken.

Alas, my 29th birthday was Saturday (it was very fun - my family came in town, we sat in the field, played games and drank wine - gotta love dem folks)and on Sunday, I started feeling old. Around 8PM, I looked at Tommy and said, "I'm going to bed...my back hurts and I'm tired".

In my defense, I did ride my bike for 3 hours that day (for the first time in 4 months), but nonetheless, I think this is my first sign of aging. I'm old balls. Gross.

So, thanks to all of you who kept me young for so long...the joyride is over. Let the aging begin.

Happy freaking birthday to me.

************************************
In other news, I ran the Bayou City Classic 10K on Saturday and PR'ed by 4 minutes (my PR was slow, but whatever!)...I crossed that finish line in 50:33 (average pace of 8:10) and was 12th in my age group (of about 200). My goal was to break 50 minutes, and if I hadn't gotten so freaking thirsty and walked through all the water stops, I definitely would have made it...lesson learned. Game, set, match. Deyhration, here I come.

Racing Season Begins!

It's finally here. Off season is over and the fun is about the begin. The weather is warming up, which means I am no longer whining about being freezing (well, at least I'm not whining as MUCH) and going to the pool isn't quite as terrifying.

So far, I have two races under my belt this season - TIR and the Bayou City Classic 10K. Both of those races went awesome and I was reminded of why I like racing...finally. My race enthusiasm pretty much hit rock bottom after Ironman, but I feel it slowly coming back!

My parents really enjoyed it and did awesome, although, their first comments were, "How in the world do you do that a few more times to run a marathon?". Haha. Yeah, I have no idea either.

The next races on the calendar are the Gateway to the Bay sprint and olympic (sprint on Saturday and olympic on Sunday)...we have a wedding to go to on Saturday night, so we figured Sunday's race won't go so well. Hence the race on Saturday as well. Maybe I can get SOMETHING decent out of the weekend.

All in all, the racing season is upon us!! YAYYY!

Tommy and I went out to BFE for our first ride since IMCOZ and it was glorious. My hoo-ha isn't quite used to sitting on my seat for that long anymore and my body isn't used to being aero, but overall, my legs felt great and it was wonderful to be outside in the gorgeous weather!

Unfortunately, due to Weddingpalooza 2010, I will probably be unable to ride outside again until IMFlorida 70.3...ooops. That'll be a great race. NOT! I'm giving Florida an asterisk. :) Ha.

Weddingpalooza 2010 officially begins today. I have something wedding related (either the actual wedding or a bachelorette party) every weekend from now until May. I'm a little stressed out and exhausted by it all, but the people getting married are some of my nearest and dearest and I am so excited for them!

COME AND TAKE IT

Texas is The. Best. State. Ever. But if you're reading this, you likely know my feelings about Texas already. I'm not saying that I would NEVER move away, but let's be honest - you'd have to promise me a bed made of a gold, a closet full of designer shoes and you'd have to relocate my family and friends to make it happen.

I just heart Texas.

To celebrate the birth of the great nation of Texas, The Texas Independence Relay was born. It's a 203.2 mile relay that starts in Gonzales, Texas (where the first battle for Texas' independence was fought - the Come and Take it Cannon was located there) and follows the trail of battles that Texas soldiers fought for independence. It ends just east of Houston at the San Jacinto Monument - the place where Santa Anna was finally defeated and Texas' independence was won!

I tear up as I write this. I kid you not.

The basics of the race at you assemble a team to run 40 legs of the relay. Most teams have 8-12 people. You start running in Gonzales, TX and you finish at the monument the next day. You run all night and all day until the smell of yourself makes you violently ill. Our team was 9 people, all running 4 legs each, except for Adam (who is/was/always will be superior to all of us and ran 5)...we each ran about 22 miles over the course of 25 hours.

Ultimately, we finished the race in a super speedy 25 hours and 36 minutes to place 14th overall (we were seeded to finish 17th - so we kicked butt!), 7th in our division and had an average pace of 7:26. Dude, we totally rocked. In addition to our swift running, we also recieved 3rd place for Most Team Spirit. It was totally the costumes. Everybody loves a guy in pink spandex.

I think it was the outfits.

Highlights of the trip:

Blizzards from Dairy Queen
Makeshift hangers in the van to dry our outfits between legs
Pita chips
All you saw was the "pee" not the "nis"
Buc-ees, glorious, wonderful, Buc-ees
Kyle running home from his last leg to take a crap but since he didn't have a car there, he had to call a cab to bring him to our next stop(hence Rookie of the Year award)
Not being able to "go"
Staying awake for 30 hours
Navigation issues
ROADKILL!
Howard's - The greatest gas station in the world
SABOTAGE
Really bad music on the Ipod
Delicious hambugers in Weimer (that weren't actually good, but dear lord, they satisfied!)
Kolaches
Hot pink spandex
Giant chamois(s)
15 passenger vans
Mullets
Hating the Tornados

The first legs went great for everyone (except for Kyle who got the 9 mile leg and since he hadn't really been running, this was not pretty for him). The second legs were fun, but in the pitch black darkness of midnight, the entertainment value went waaaay down. Things were starting to get quite painful by the 3rd legs and the van was starting to smell. By the 4th leg, we were all rejuvinated, exhausted, stinky and in a great deal of pain...and then Adam had to run again. Poor guy.

And the awards go to (since we all slept through the Oscars)...

Adam: Team Granddad (aged due to James taking his spot as Team Dad)
Christy: Most Improved
Kyle: Rookie of the Year
Tommy: Best Looking in the Uniform (maybe I'm biased, but probably not)
Melissa: Best TIR Captain EVER
James: Team Dad
Andres: Best First Timer at Buc-ees
Laura: Best at Sleeping. Anywhere.
Jenn: Most Consistent

All in all, it was very fun and very not fun all at the same time. I really enjoyed myself during the day, but once the sun went down, it was hard for me to maintain the level of happy I was previously at. But then I got to run along the bayou at sunrise and all was right with the world again!

The problem with only having one van is that you are very tired and it's hard to sleep...the benefit is that you actually get to enjoy your friends, it all goes by faster and its a lot cheaper. However, I think we were way too fast to have had any downtime anyway! I REALLY liked having a smaller team too - definitely more fun than the 12 person teams.

I always say I'm not gonna do this race again (this was my third relay and 2nd TIR), but I hate missing out on the fun...so I'm relatively certain that if all my friends race again, I'll be there.

Go Team Pace Booty! We rocked!

You know how you think you are funnier than you actually are? Yeah. That.

Tommy and I think that we are the most hysterical people on the planet. I am pretty sure that the rest of the planet would completely disagree, but, I gotta be honest here, that boy makes me laugh harder than anyone I have ever met. I find it very sad that there isn't a tv show with us as the stars. It would be a cult classic.

Earlier this week, we had a conversation on instant messenger (yes, we do most of our talking via instant messenger and texting...yayy internet age) regarding the age old debate of "More Dogs or No More Dogs?" I, of course, am right in thinking that we need more dogs, and Tommy (always the pessimist) is very anti-More Dogs.

Below is our discussion that we were both laughing about when we got home. For your information: "Pugzy" is what we call all dogs. "... ..." is intented to be the scene from Borat when he is learning to use the word "NOT".

The discussion begins when I sent him a link to a shelter hosting an adoption day...they were offering incentives for adopting older and bigger dogs.

Tommy: no more pugzys

me: why why why?
baaaaaby
they are on sale!!!

Tommy: its too much

me: puppies dont get any cheaper than that
you hate me

Tommy: never baby. just don't want to have an animal farm
one beast gets in the way enough
and the fur oh goodness

me: but baby! you let your other wife have two
its like you love her more than you love me
siiiiiiiiiiigh
the fur is good for you

Tommy: no way. those dogs weighed 15 pounds together

me: but it was two!
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh
i will be pitiful tonight

Tommy: so we should have 70 the size of Betty?
glad you are going out to dinner then!
muhahaha

me: siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh
baby
this is not the choice

Tommy: it IS the choice
get a pugzy or not get a pugzy

me: GET A PUGZY!!

Tommy: ......
.....
.....
NOT
you would have 10 of them

me: hahahahaha
sooooo?@???!?!?
i would be so happy

Tommy: We wouldn't be able to even walk down the stairs
wouldnt remember their names

me: hahahahahahahahahahahaha

Tommy as long as we never go out of town
wouldnt even know if one got away...
spend all evening just counting the pugzys

me: hahahahahahaha

Tommy: haha
you can come home at lunch and let the pugzys out

Lydia.

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia.

Payback is a b1tch, ain't it?

For those who don't know (and if you don't know, we aren't friends because I talk about this ALL THE TIME), there was a girl at my wedding - Lydia - who came as the date of my friend Matt. I had maybe met Lydia once before, but whatever, it didn't matter. She was Matt's date and my photographers One True Love [batting eyelashes].

In my photographers defense, she did stand near me for most of our wedding reception while we all danced our hearts out. HOWEVER, this does not negate the fact that this girl (whom I barely know) is in almost every single one of my wedding pictures. Every. Single. One.

My photographer loved her. Loved her. Like, asked the pastor if they could get married right after us, loved her.

Alas, I was not a happy camper when I finally got to see all my wedding pictures.

I vowed to pay Lydia back. And since she is getting married soon, I had elaborate plans to show up and hang on her all night. It was going to be fabulous.

But as life does, it gave me the payback I deserved...or pay FORWARD if you will.

My friend Rebecca got married this weekend in New Orleans and had a very casual ceremony where we all stood around them in a circle while a friend of theirs read the vows. Well, I ended up standing RIGHT freaking NEXT to her during her vows. I was totally a bridesmaid.

I photobombed every single one of their wedding pictures.

I tried to smile so I would at least look decent in the pictures but dude, I was holding a glass of wine like it was a bouquet. Not exactly framing material.

Lydia, this photobomb is for you.

And Rebecca, I give you full permission to take my uninvited place at Lydia's wedding for some serious photobombing. Or you can just wait and pay it forward.

Present of the Year

In case you weren't sure what to buy your daughter, nephew, kid down the street, Amazon has done and gone solved all your problems!

Check this out...make sure to read the first review.

Olympic Dreams

The olympic trials for the marathon are coming here in 2012...OMG. The race will be the day before the Houston Marathon and I can't wait to compete. I'll probably run both days.

Ha.

On a serious note, this is very exciting news. This race will bring amazing athletes to town and I can't wait to watch them!

On an unserious note, I did a track workout this morning. We did 5x800's and then 4x100's. I've never run just 100 meters before and it was interesting to say the least. The first thing I noticed is that I don't lace my shoes tightly enough for running that fast. The second thing I noticed was that no matter how fast I was running I will never be fast.

Siiigh.

During those 100m sprints, I would swear to you that I was a running goddess. I was flying like the wind. I could have qualified for the olympics. I was a winner. I hath ne'er run so fast. It felt amazing.

And then I got lapped by Adam on his cool down.

He is always one upping me. I run the marathon in 4 hours, he runs it in 3. I run 100 meters as fast as I can, he runs a mile...faster. Jerk.

Someday my little ones, someday.

Or not. The closest I will ever get to being fast is to sit on the side of the road at the Olympic trials in 2012. I better start training now.

The Verdict Is In.

Yup, I should be eating about 800 more calories per day than I normally do.

WTF.

This sounds exciting in theory, but I'm terrified of gaining weight. If I gain five pounds, I won't be able to shop in normal people stores anymore...so this is definitely a risk. But what I'm currently doing isn't working and I am paying this nice lady to tell me what to do...I just need to listen to her!

She also said that my salt consumption is probably acceptable since I work out so much...so na na nana na!! I win! Salt for everyone!

Now I am sitting in my cubicle, not hungry, with a LOT of calories left to eat today. I'm fantasizing about cheese fries, but I'm pretty sure that's not what she intended...

Risk Taker

Every article of clothing I wear to work is a solid colored sweater. I have every color of the rainbow, every style imaginable (although, I tend to gravitate towards turtlenecks and cardigans), and I wear them everyday with a different color of slacks (all the same brand, cut, and length).

It's wierd because in my "outside of work" life, I tend to think of myself as at least semi-fashion forward. Yet, I have never, ever, worn anything but solid colored sweaters to work in the last 6 years.

I'm that much of a risk taker.

I could blame it on my engineering background...engineers aren't exactly known for their fashion sense, but alas, since I'm obsessed with shoes and own at least 14 pairs of jeans, I don't think I can get away with this excuse.

One of my goals for the year is to not purchase a single solid colored sweater.

(I think I will allow myself to replace a basic staple if needed however...think black cardigans)

I purchased my first print on Friday. There was another version of it in brown/yellow, but I decided for my first print, I should play it safe. That way, if I feel uncomfortable, I can snap up my black cardigan and no one will be the wiser.


It was tough getting dressed this morning, but I made myself do it and, much to my surprise, I survived the day.

Phew. I need a glass of wine. Maybe next time I can get the colorful one? Or not.

Fighting the Good Fight

As we all know, I struggle with my weight. Everytime I eat something (anything), I think to myself, do I really WANT/NEED this? How does eating this help me fuel the machine? Sometimes I eat out of boredom, sometimes I eat because I have a craving, sometimes I eat because I am hungry...but mostly, I eat because I enjoy it.

I like eating. I like food and the way it tastes. I like the social activity of sharing a meal with someone. All in all, I just like eating.

For the last year, I have been seriously watching what I eat and working out more than the average bear but with no results. The good news is that I am exactly the same size I was when I was 14...the bad news is that I must have been a giant at 14. (I had always thought I was a giant teenager but everyone told me I wasn't big...it's good to finally know that my anxiety was justified...15 years later, but justified nonetheless). But in the last year, I have lost 0 pounds, 0 inches and 0 % body fat. WTF!

Everyone kept saying, "Well you drink a lot" (which I do, but only on the weekends and it actually nets out to a normal weekly consumption), "Well, you eat a lot of Mexican food" (I don't...I just only eat it socially, so if you and I go out to eat, we eat Mexican, and therefore you assume I eat Mexican everynight), "Well, you don't work out enough" (Screw you!). Alas, I got tired of complaining about my weight and not knowing what to do about it.

Soooo, I'm going to a nutritionist. In our first meeting, her response was that I am not eating enough. WHAT?

Calories in <= Calories out is a bunch of crap.

After entering every morsel of food I ate last week, she is right. It was relatively normal week. I missed 2 workouts because I was sick, but I also ate less because I wasn't feeling all that great. We went to the Rodeo Cookoff and I gorged myself on BBQ and beer...but my long run and swim in the morning pretty much negated it all. On average, I eat about 500 calories less than I should to lose 1 pound per week. She says my body is starving itself. Awesome.

My fear with this is that I will have to eat more and then I will gain weight...but I hired her to help me, so I am just going to (attempt) to put my trust in her. Wish me luck.

Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

Tommy and I spent our Valentines Day wandering the neighborhood and going to open houses (we finished our wonderful walk at Cedar Creek where we enjoyed a few beers and a delicious, albeit not nutritious, linner).

We started at the one across the street. We had looked at this exact house but a few streets away when we were in the market. We discovered pretty quickly that while we liked the layout, they were overpriced (WAY overpriced), had a wierd front yard (very Pleasantville), didn't have master suite (AT ALL! No bathroom, no closet, no nothing!) and the third bedroom would have been better suited as a closet (a small closet). All in all, we weren't impressed. Regardless, I wanted to check out this house because I like checking out how other people decorate and snooping.

Open houses are pretty much my happy place.

So, away we went and we met the wonderful (ha!) realtor at the house. I was wearing my IMCOZ visor and he struck up a conversation about Ironman. Darn. I had now acheived TWO goals for the day: I was gonna get to snoop AND I got to talk about Ironman to someone who cared. HOORAY! Best Valentines Day EVER.

The three of us got to talking about Cozumel and racing in general. It was love at first sight...until it wasn't. Isn't that always the case with love at first sight? Siiigh. Well, while Realtor Man seemed super cool at first, he quickly turned on the dooshbaggy-ness for all the world to see.

His first comment was, "Yeah, my $12,000 bike should be here soon. I know that will make all the difference in the world. I won't have to worry about my biking anymore once that gets here." Okay buddy, sure thing.

Then he goes on to say that he "is phenomenal on the swim and the run and with the new bike I should be amazing there as well. I can run a marathon in like, under 4 hours." HAHAHAHA. Dude, a 4 hour marathon is pretty awesome and very respectable..."phenomenal"? No. I don't think a 4 hour marathon is phenomenal. At all. He says he raced Houston this year and did amazing.

Then he asks how well we did in Cozumel. We tell him that we finished in just under 13 hours (which BTW is pretty freaking AWESOME) and his response is, "Yeah, that's semi-respectable." WTF dude? Seriously?

He says that he is going to qualify for Kona this year and that his half times are incredible. (Who says that?). We ask what halves he has done and what his times are and he doesn't know. Um, what? Everyone knows. You KNOW your PR for a race like that. And frankly, if you are training for an Ironman, you are a Type A personality, and you have all your PR's memorized. And if you are too senile to memorize them, you have them written down in your wallet so you can reference them at any given moment. Seriously.

At about this point in the conversation I am trying to edge my way out before I say something like, "Dude, you won't qualify for Kona in this lifetime, but keep up the power of positive thinking." Because seriously, he sucked so much.

We finally escaped without me slapping some sense into him and I spent the next few hours devising a plan to stalk him. I searched his name, I searched old race databases, I searched athlinks, I searched it all and the verdict is that this boy ain't done no races! He didn't race the Houston Marathon (although his wife, whom he claimed is even faster than him, may have finished in a solid 5:43hours...phenomenal). He didn't race any Ironman brand races EVER, isn't on Athlinks, and doesn't exist in the racing world at all.

Sorry pal. You're just another poser. Memorize some fake race splits and maybe someone will believe you.

Get out there and race!!

Blogging Fodder.

If I am ever at a lack of things to blog about, please, just send me to the Lab Test room at St. Josephs. I got more material there in 20 minutes than I got in my own life in the last 2 years. Seriously. I was almost crying...oh wait, I was crying. But those tears were because the stupid hoe that ATTEMPTED to take my blood missed my giant veins and felt the need to go on a digging adventure...the antics going on in the waiting room was some of the most entertaining stuff I have ever seen.

I can't detail all of it for you lest I seem like I have no heart for homeless people...so, let's just say that hanging out in the Lab Test Room at St. Joseph's is where all the professional singers from Broadway come once they get too old/fat/ugly to make it big anymore. It was like a freaking concert. But not a good one.

The homeless people just sang and sang and sang. Only the good Lord might be able to able to tell us WHAT they were singing, because I'm pretty sure those weren't words...but it also wasn't humming. Just incoherent blathering on. Loudly. And out of tune. And with total disregard to anyone else in the room.

(Let the record show that I find singing in public places, specifically showers at the gym, totally offensive for reasons unknown even to myself. Regardless, this singing was hysterical.)

Finally an un-homeless man (approximately 50 years old) sat down opposite a singing homeless man (approximately 25 years old). This was apparently the opening that Homeless Man was looking for. Homeless Man launched into a Question/Answer segment during which I learned a lot about his life. The conversation went something like this:

Homeless Man: Have you heard of Patrick Swayze?
UnHomeless Man: Yes.
Homeless Man: I went to the school with that guy.
*Editors note: Homeless Man is no more than 25...and since being homeless probably ages you, he is probably more like 17. Patrick Swayze is/was old enough to by my father.
UnHomeless Man: Oh really?
Homeless Man: Yeah, his picture was on the wall. Have you ever seen Dirty Dancing? Or Ghost? He was in those movies.
UnHomeless Man: Yeah, I've seen those movies.
Homeless Man: Ghost was scary. I don't like ghosts.

And then he left. I really wanted to hear more about the ghosts. What we couldn't figure out was whether or not Homeless Man that good ol' Pat had died. No one wanted to break that news to him. Especially since he has this fear of ghosts and all.

Happy Ash Wednesday.

Lent is basically the poor mans New Years Resolution. If you failed at your resolutions, you get a second chance to try them again...and you only have to do it for 40 days, not a whole year like that New Years Resolution crap.

These Christians are geniuses!

I don't really do New Years Resolutions. I prefer to think of them as goals. Regardless, it's all the same sh1t different day. I DO do (doodoo. Ha.) Giving Things Up for Lent though. Even though I am not really religious. I just find that it's easier to commit to something for 40 days than to committ for a whole year. Commit-a-phobic? Probably. There is a reason I can't just pick a place to go on vacation. Seriously.

I think the word you are looking for is, anyways...

Every year I give up saying the F word. I also fail at this every year because frankly, I like saying the F word. It's my favorite word. I think it really adds something to a story. It's that je ne sais quoi every story is looking for. So, I always fail at this goal because my heart isn't really in it. Whatever. I'll add it to the list again this year just so it looks like I'm trying. That's for you mom.

This year I will also be attempting to give up all the crap food just sitting around my office...all the time. If I can do it for 40 days, I will succeed. Hell, if I can avoid all the crap food in the office for a week it would be considered a success.

40 days without leftover, cold, germ contaminated pizza. I hope I can survive.

F you.

Who Needs Sleep?

So, I fell in love with the Barenaked Ladies because of their song "Who Needs Sleep?" which was (and still is) my anthem for life.

Who needs sleep?
(well you're never gonna get it)
Who needs sleep?
(tell me what's that for)
Who needs sleep?
(be happy with what you're getting)
There's a guy who's been awake
since the Second World War

Unfortunately, this song really resonated with me because I don't really sleep. Ever.

I can sleep in about 3 hour increments about twice a day (but never consecutively). For example, I could go to bed at 10pm, sleep until 1am and then lay awake (exhausted) for the rest of the night and then I could take a 3 hour nap sometime in the afternoon (if my job would allow it).

In college, I once tried a plan where I slept from 3-7am and then 3-7pm so I could still get 8 hours of rest a day, go to class and party until 2am...unfortunately for me, I don't like to party until 2am. I like happy hour and this plan didn't really accomodate to my lifestyle of daytime drinking. Sooo, my wonderfully crafted 4 hour naps went in the garbage.

Alas, I haven't slept in quite some time. HOWEVER, last night, in a stroke of sleeping genius, I slept for a solid 5 hours! I went to bed at 10:30 and woke up at 4am disoriented and confused (because seriously, this has never happened!). And then, when I realized the magicalness of the slumber I had been in, I got so excited and couldn't go back to sleep. So, I'm still tired despite the best sleep in recent memory. Haha.

Such is life and will never be a winner in life.

A sidenote to how sweet my husband is:
When we went to bed, I was the big spoon (because my ear had been hurting and I couldn't lay on my right side to be the little spoon) and we were pretty much on his side of the bed. When I woke up at 4am, I was still the big spoon and he was pretty much falling off the bed. I moved back to my side to revel in the joy that is 5 solid hours of sleep!

When he finally woke up, I told him about the greatness of my sleep and he told me that he woke up around 2am really uncomfortable but he realized that I was still cuddling him and asleep (this is how crazy it is that I slept this long) and he didn't want to wake me up. So he tried to be as still and quiet as possible so as not to wake the monster [me]. The poor guy slept uncomfortably for several hours so as to not disturb me...THAT my friends, is a good man right there.

New February Resolutions

There is apparently a huge group of people out there who failed to make their New Years Resolutions at the beginning of the new year. And this huge group of people is now invading my gym. This is February people, you were supposed to have quit by now!

Nothing really changed in January. There were a couple of new people, but really, it wasn't anymore crowded than normal (well, at least not MUCH). My gym is small so even a couple of newbies made a difference, but I was still always able to get the machines I wanted, a shower when I needed it and a hairdryer to dry my hair.

HOWEVER, on Monday I came to work to shower (because why would I shower in the gorgeous new shower I have at home? Yeah, doesn't make sense to me either.). Regardless, I shower at work 4 out of 5 days a week and Amy and I are the only people there (there is an occasional drifter, but usually just the two of us) and we like it that way. I get the shower I want when I want it and the space at the counter to do my hair.

Back to my story...I came to work to shower and I get my bench ready (there is a system of course) when I notice that all the other benches are occupied. THEN I had to shower in a less-than-optimal shower AND share my bench with someone. Mon dieu!

What I couldn't grasp was that it is FEBRUARY. No one joins a gym in February! I'll share my treadmill in January because I know it will only last a few weeks, but what if people start actually sticking to their goals? What will my world come to?

In other news, I got my butt kicked in the pool by a 12 year old girl. Awesome. WAy to boost the ego. In turn, I kicked a 80 year old dude's butt, but it didn't really help to build my self esteem up.

Pizza.

If you work in Corporate America, you better like pizza. In fact, this should probably be one of the questions on the aptitude tests given to fifth graders. Children who don't like pizza should be steered toward jobs to be a teacher, doctor, lawyer (for a small, non-Corporate America firms) or a garbage man. I guarantee that these kids will not grow up to like Corporate America if they don't like pizza.

Pizza Haters would not like working in Corporate America because everyone likes free food. Free food is always (we will say 99.99999% of the time) better than any food that you could have possibly paid for. And if there is free food around, most self-respecting (or in my case, un-self-respecting) people will eat the free food.

And this food is always (we will say 97.9999% of the time) pizza.

So, all you pizza haters out there, go find a new job and leave the pizza to us cubicle dwellers. We NEED it.

***UPDATE: Also, unlike the quickly devoured delicious AND nutritious pizza, there is an overwhelming amount of leftover melon in Corporate America. On any given fruit tray, the grapes and strawberries are snatched up immediately, only to leave all this disgusting melon festering in self pity and low self-esteem. Nobody likes melon. Why do we insist on putting it on a fruit tray??