Day 9, Kicks in the Head, Mama, and the Return of Boyd Crowder

The Bear named Joe.

Well, I am proud to report that I am still on my diet (or "dot"--Brian claims this is what it sounds like when I say "diet") and exercise routine. I have yet to die, so that is good. I've been hoofing it at the gym every day after work (which is really just 3 days since I am working part-time, but still). The first day, I had my sweet friend Jenna to pump iron with (NOTE: Neither of us pumped iron). Since then, I've been all by my lonesome. This is fine, I mean, it's not like working out is an activity that requires deep conversation or the like. For the most part, you're just walking next to each other, both rocking the headphones. But, it is a bit awkward when you are the only girl in the gym. The dudes forget I am there, and so they pick wedgies and scratch their wieners and it is gross. Who am I kidding? They're dudes. They would probably still be doing that even if I had a gym buddy. At any rate, kudos to me for still going strong at Day 9!

Jules and his hair.

The boys can no longer be trusted to stay in their pack and play together without supervision. I laid them in there yesterday evening while I went to make their bottles. I heard Jonas crying from the kitchen. "I'm coming! I'm coming! I gotta mix this formula. Good grief! Can I have a minute?! You are so demanding!" I was thinking the ole chap was mad because I was moving too slowly fixing his food. I get back into the living room with bottles in hand, and what do I see? Julian smiling and kicking his poor brother in the head. Poor little Joe Bear. 

Why is it that I see previews to the scariest movies when I am sitting alone in the dark? Have you seen the trailer for the new Guillermo del Toro movie (Mama)? Good heavens! It's a wonder I didn't have nightmares from just seeing that 1-minute clip. 

Did you watch Justified last night? Boyd Crowder is back! Yeehaw! Looks like he's going to get into all kinds of trouble this season. Walton Goggins is completely perfect for this role. I wish you all were from Southeast Kentucky and could truly appreciate this show. I mean, yes, obviously it is a television show and therefore totally outlandish at times, but, hand to God, some of the characters are dead-on folks I know back home (I know more than 1 Dewey Crow). Why, even last night Boyd Crowder's dialogue sounded like it came straight from Taylor Jones's mouth! Quoting Psalms to illustrate how God gladdened the hearts of man by making wine and using that to justify selling oxys. "And what are goods but just modern-day wine, albeit in pill form." I'm telling you! Visit Hazard, people. 

My Feet Hurt. And EDB is a Pig From Hell.

Continuing on my quest to become svelte, I hit the gym today after work. Unfortunately, I didn't bring my headphones, so I had to awkwardly walk in silence as everyone else jammed to their motivational tunes. While I was walking, I noticed several things about the manner in which I exercise.

1. Although every other person in the gym seemed to be able to play on their smart phone or read a book while exercising, I most definitely cannot. I tried. I failed. Miserably. For starters, I think I get a little motion-sickness when I attempt to navigate my phone and exercise. Secondly, I focus my attention on the phone instead of the exercise, and then I hear that old familiar noise of my feet dragging on the treadmill belt...you know, the noise you hear just before you lose your footing and bite the dust. (Note: Exercising = walking. I wonder if I am the person people refer to when they say, "She can't walk and chew bubble gum at the same time." I'm telling you, I'm talented, folks!)
2. Along the same lines, I also noticed today that I cannot walk in a straight line, nor can I walk and talk/look at someone next to me without nearly falling and killing myself. Jenna (my sweet friend and treadmill neighbor) probably thought I was going to wipe out at any moment.
3. I was about 3 minutes into my 30-minute workout when my feet started to hurt.
4. I am, by far, the most pathetic person in the gym.

As I type this, I am flexing my legs to stretch my "muscles" and it feels so good. I wonder what it is like to be an actual athlete? Or at least someone who can do more than a 30-minute power walk without having to write a thesis on its effects.

The boys eating carrots.

In other news...

I try to be a good mother, but I lied to my babies yesterday. (And so it begins.) I told them that carrots were "yummy in their tummies." Sorry, boys. Please forgive me. Carrots taste like dirt.

Today, my so-called-buddy, Brian, made me relive a horrible moment from childhood. The tale of Edward Dale Brewer. Because the wounds are re-opened, I might as well share this story with you:

Me as a 1st grader.

Edward Dale Brewer is a pig from hell. When I was in 1^st grade, he was an 8^th grader. He rode my bus. One summer day, I had a Snickers candy bar at recess. I didn’t finish it all, so I put it in my pocket to eat later when I got home. Well, it melted. I had chocolate all over the FRONT side of my pants. I get off the bus at my stop, and dadblamed Edward Dale Brewer sticks his ugly head out the window of the bus and hollers, “Allison pooped her pants! Allison pooped her pants!” My face turned blood red (and this was even before my rosacea flares) and I ran all the way home crying every step of the way.

Lardass Hogan

My new kicks and inspiration for power-walking.

Remember the tale of Lardass Hogan from the movie Stand by Me? Gordy told the story. You remember, Lardass was a fat kid who entered a pie-eating contest to get revenge on all of the townspeople (including his own brother and sister) who bullied him for being overweight. Right before the contest, he chugs some castor oil and eats a raw egg. Then, after eating several blueberry pies, he barfs all over everyone. Well, people, I'm hear to tell you, I am Lardass Hogan. Except, no one really calls me Lardass, and I am not going to enter into a pie-eating contest in order to spew chunks on folks. What it boils down to is this: I have a lard ass. This is thanks to Julian and Jonas. Well, actually, it is thanks to all of those burritos and 4-ways I scarfed down while pregnant. My state of plumpness is also owing to my complete lack of exercise and ignorance of nutrition. So, in spirit of the new year, one of my many resolutions was to lose weight. I got some new kicks to inspire me, and for extra motivation there is talk of participating in the Flying Pig in May.

I want to apologize in advance for flaking on this endeavor. It seems as though I do not have a great history with keeping up with exercise and diets. See Pineapple on Pizza, Bacon, This Diet Thing, They're all gonna laugh at you!, I'm Practically Svelte, and I Survived.

At any rate, sit back and get ready to point and laugh as I try to not eat Big Boys or drink chocolate milkshakes on a bi-weekly basis. I hope I don't become too angry due to withdrawals.

Day 1 of losing lard ass: I power-walked around the Woods.

Another New Year's resolution was to limit the use of bad words in my vocabulary (including "ass"...I am already failing). This is extra hard considering it is basketball season. At least we got that Louisville game out of the way before the New Year! Tonight's game wasn't so bad at all. It was a cupcake game. Blowout city! It even put Jules to sleep.

There were some pretty nasty dunks, lots of good defense, and some good 3-point shooting, but I don't get too excited when the opponent is Eastern Michigan. Call me when we are schooling a ranked opponent (but I still like this team).

What else? What else? Oh yes. I present to you Miss January Goat in Tree:

Fitness Class, Here I Come!

Don't expect me to show up in an outfit like this.

So, Facebook has this thing where it tells you what your status was 1 year ago today. Well, friends, 1 year ago today, I "wanted a cheese coney." This was preceeded by yesterday's 1 year ago today status of, "Allison Gastright made caramel popcorn." Have I always been obsessed with food? Could be worse, I reckon. But, there is hope yet, children. I have enlisted a few friends and we are embarking on a journey of physical fitness. Monday nights we shall attempt Zumba and Thursday nights we shall attend a beginners' workout class. I will let you know if I survive.

On another note, I have turned into my husband. I am now obsessed with cars. Why? I do not need another unhealthy obsession (and I do not need another car). Why can't I be obsessed with cleaning my house? Or eating vegetables? Or doing my homework?

Speaking of homework...it's that time again. First day of class is tomorrow. Wish me luck! Prepare thyself for a 4-month long period of bitching and moaning from yours truly. Here's to hoping I can pull it off and actually graduate in December!