Lesbian love affair...Heeeeey, get a Snuggie!

111.2  O.  M.  G.

That's what the New Digital is reading this morning after two days of "eating clean" according to Jackie Warner.  And I have been waking up AWAKE for the last two days too -- that's weird.  Is it all the diet?  Can't say for sure, but I've been working on this for almost a year now with not much to show in the way of results and I'm finally seein' em.  So, I think I'm having my own little lesbian love affair with Jacki Warner and her book This is Why You're Fat and How to Get Thin Forever.  Jackie shares my view that sugar is Satan's supplement, and her diet takes my love of eggs to places even I have not dared to go.  I ate like a pig yesterday trying to comply with her eating instructions and still lost weight.  Love, love. 

The secret seems to be protein, oatmeal and fruits/veggies.  Not to mention water.  That's obviously over-simplified, but reading her book finally motivated my ass to stop eating sugar and flour (although I thought I was already kind of not doing that) and get serious about my fruits and veggies.  Plus the new super-blender (the Waring Extreme) blends up a smoothie like nobody's business.  And who knew that milk had so much sugar in it?  I thought it was SUCH a healthy drink, and it turns out that, maybe not so much.  See!  Even after a year of searching and researching, I've still got a lot to learn.  I will be shopping Sprouts later today and bringing home a big ol' bunch of organic fruits and veggies, instead of my usual stuff that is maybe not too unhealthy.  I'm kind of excited about this.  (Hey, maybe I'll get some beans for the new pressure cooker, which is working out great, BTW.)

And speaking of excited -- the new Snuggie commercials are out!!  "Heeeeeey, get a Snuggie!"  (To the Macarena tune -- I don't know how to spell Macarena, but you know what I mean.)  As much as I totally HATE Snuggies (Why yes, I'd love a monk's robe in cheap faux zebra fleece, and what a great idea to wear this thing out in public!), I have to admit their new jingle is memorable (ripping off something that already sticks in the brain like PB to the roof of your mouth helps), and the atmosphere is festive -- they're pretty much dancing in their Snuggies now, they're so happy.  Jee-zus.  You have to hand it to the Snuggie people -- they must be making a snugly Snuggie fortune.

But I won't need a Snuggie this winter, because my ass is going to be so skinny I'ma want to show it off in something like, oh, I don't know, real clothess

A sootable ending for the GS Buddy Burners and on to new HEALTHY cooking adventures!

Well, since my last blog, like a YEAR ago, I swear, I have tested, used, and discarded the old Girl Scout Buddy Burners and vagabond stoves that I made for camping.  They worked great, the Cowgirl Casserole was better than expected (think baked beans with pork sausage over biscuits), but the incredible layers of SOOT that covered everything that the buddy burner touched were enough to make me content with a short visit to Girl Scout-hood, and the burners are being recycled in favor of a neater, cleaner, portable charcoal grill with its very own carrying bag (thank you Amazon).  It really was fun, though, and  big thanks to my camping divas for humoring my lame-assed backyard camping dinner.

So now that THAT'S over with....I bought two pressure cookers!!!  Yeah.  Because my Mother Earth Newsletter had an article about the wonders of pressure cookers.  And I gotta admit, they are pretty freakin' cool.  They arrived last night, and I've already made rice in three minutes (really) and leek and potato soup in 4 minutes.  About to open up the soup.  Wow!  Now that's some steam.  And the soup is delicious.  Hmmmm.  Julie and Julia WATCH OUT.  I'm thinking Lorna and Tracy, or, because I'm egomaniacal, maybe Tracy and Lorna.  Because I also bought Pressure Perfect by Lorna Sass.  And so far, I'm very pleased.  Will report back after paiella adventure next Sunday. 

Meanwhile, the New Digital is reading 114.8 (cuz it likes point eight) after Bowl One of leek and potato soup and a 3.5-hour work-out week.  Ena and I are Bringin' It to our body parts one hour at a time MWF and then I Skype yoga with my sister whenever time permits.  So, no, I'm about 2 lbs short of my initial 10 lb weight-loss goal, but I like to think the muscle is creeping up on the fat.  And once it cools off, I'm back to walking in the mornings, and BYE-BYE back fat.

I'm off to read my new Why You Are Fat book by Jackie Warner with a glass of champagne.  TTFN.

Old sweat(s).

Well, bust out some sparkly striped short shorts and call me Richard Simmons (and while I'm thinking of little Richard, what kind of extra-sweet, bad-ass Halloween costume would that be?), cuz I sweated off like 3 pounds last weekend.  No, I didn't actually work out.  I worked outside.  In my storage shed to be exact.  Yes, I selected Saturday, when it was a full-on sunny 110F, to remove EVERYTHING (well, almost everything) from my garden shed/enormous wooden oven, and replace my old crap-I-threw-together shelves with new, properly-constructed bull-nose composite shelving that won't buckle under the weight of all the stuff I can't throw away.  Fortunately, I had the assistance and additional sweat power of EXTRA-GOOD FRIEND (who deserves a serious merit badge of some kind for this) Patrick.  I could not have re-shelved the shed without him.  (Well, honestly, I probably COULD have, but it would have taken two weeks and involved lots of cussing, and I would have found an excuse to re-do it half-assed.)  It was seriously frickin' hot and exhausting and I wound up in bed at 9 pm.  But the good news is, that I was 3 pounds lighter on Sunday!!! Seriously, I lost THREE POUNDS just sweating in the shed one day (it was like 8 hours, but still, just one day).  I went from my 115.4-pound rut to 112.4!  I wish I'd known this trick earlier -- I could have met my 10-pound goal in half a week!  So now I'm thinking, I should turn the shed into my own personal sweat lodge/spa shed.  Some rocks, a little fire, and some water for steam, and I'm good to go.  I could probably charge admission.  Tracy's Sweet Sweat Shed Spa.  (Say that three times, real fast.)

If you see smoke and hear drums and chanting, come on back and sweat with me.  It'll be fun.  Really.  I've still got some organizing to do, so you might have to help sort through years of sprinkler heads, fertilizer, and pool hose, but that's fun, right?  Just ignore the lawn mower.

P.S.  I was already back up to 113.5 by Monday morning.  So sweat loss maybe not totally effective.  Perhaps I should combine it with a Pleasant Peppermint colon cleanse?

P.P.S.  Now that I think about it, I may have been too tired to eat dinner after slaving in the shed, so that might have contributed to the weight loss.

P.P.P.S.  And speaking of sweats, while cleaning out the shed, I made an amazing archeological find -- my old Shawnee Mission West Vikettes (yes, it's a female Viking or something) high school drill team sweats!  What a riot.  (Go Shawn-ee Miss-ion, fight for vic-tor-y....)  These vintage sweats are THIRTY-ONE YEARS OLD!!!  Yes, they are.  And still a vivid hideous yellow that was supposed to be "gold."  Mom must have used color-safe bleach and cold water, because these bad boys are still neon.  (This vintage-style photo doesn't do the old "gold" justice, so I'll have to take a regular photo of these [maybe even ON my person] and post that later.)  Why TH was I keeping them?  Who knows.  But I worked up the nerve to try them on Monday morning.  Thankfully, they were not only unnaturally yellow, they were also ENORMOUS on me when I was the littlest 90-pound Vikette (Julie Pearce, totally different story), so the top fits fine (still baggy, even after being narrowed back in 1979) and my ass just barely fits into the bottoms.  I'm so proud.  And now that I've dug them up again, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to throw them away.  Again.  Suggestions on what to do with the crazy yellow Vikettes sweats welcome.  (West is the BEST, so show all the rest!  Come on Vikings win to-ni-i-ight!)

Exploring: the relationship between beans and camping.

To boldly go where only squirrels and elk have gone before requires a set of very LARGE number 10 tin cans.  And that means beans.  Beans, baby, beans.  My desire to relive Girl Scout H.E.A.V.E.N. (my favorite thing was making an egg and toast on a buddy burner and a No. 10 tin can stove) necessitated a visit to Costco, where I scored gallon-sized cans of green beans, tomato sauce, ranch-style beans, and chilli.  What could possibly be campier?  Not much.

Being incapable of waiting for a legitimate occassion to serve this food to a small army, I immediately busted out the green beans.  Because I LIKE green beans.  Saute some onions in there, and you've got a meal.  A meal that not everyone appreciates, but it works for me.  Add some bacon, and I think anyone would be pretty happy.  But I didn't.  I'm a frickin' saint.  The green beans were tasty, healthy, inoffensive, and really unobjectionable on every level.  They lasted like 5 days and I think I lost a pound.  And I got my first camping "stove."  I removed BOTH ends of the can, bought a cast-iron diffuser-type thing to use as a top/burner for my sweet new red-enamel coffee pot and my cast-iron frying pan/deep dish combo, and I've got a kick-ass stove top for one of my new buddy burners.  In theory, because I haven't tried any of this yet.  But now that I think of it, doesn't it seem like a GREAT idea to try frying an egg on this rig in the morning?  Let's let that idea marinate and I'll let you know.

No. 10 can number 2, was an inoccuous tomato sauce that went onto some penne and will be seen on some chicken and rice with onion soup this weekend.  Too boring to merit much discussion.  I made a traditional tin can stove with this baby -- 3"-wide flap on the bottom and 5 triangle bottle-opener vents near the top.  I can cook my egg directly on the top of this bad boy.  But will it last?  Who cares, I can always buy another can of green beans.

No. 10 can number 3.  Now here's where we run into a bit of a thing.  This can was "ranch-style" pinto beans.  The bastards.  It's beans with a sauce composed mainly of beef fat.  What.  The.  Hell.  And the result (even after draining off the fat sauce) is something a little less severe than, but similar to, brussel sprouts and cauliflower mixed with alcohol in the rain while camping.  It's less severe, but of apparently limitless duration.  Lola and I are using the new tower fan in the bedroom.

And that leaves me with No. 10 can number 4.  Chilli.  (Do that whistle from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly here.)  Chilli.  I'll let you know when I work up the nerve to open up this can of whoop-my-ass.

Maybe I'll save it for camping.  :-)

Skip to my loo. My Lovable Loo.

Prophetic? Or pathetic?  Well, if you go back to my last post, you will see that I tempted Fate with some BS about bringing on the rain.  So...duh.  I lost my pocket camera, a book of checks (although Costco was able to process one really damp check this evening), some actual books, and a sponge masquerading as a roll of precious toilet paper, in the mini-flood that happened in my tent on Saturday night.  To be fair, if I had zipped up my tent door that last 2 inches before the rain, I think I would have been fine.  Seriously, like 2 inches or less, of the last teeny, tiny, little bit of the zipper fly got stuck to the inside of the tent, and I had like a gallon of water in there on my water-tight floor right where I was storing all my shee-ite.

(So here I am setting up the Nylon Palace.  Nice and dry at that point.  Nature can be so cruel.)

But we were having a great time in the lean-to on the other side of camp in the pouring rain, drinking, going tribal with wet M&Ms, eating mostly dry and still slightly warm brussel sprouts and cauliflower (more on that later), and, I think I mentioned, drinking.  So it was fun, even with the rain.  And I've always felt like a really miserable camping trip is a fabulous bonding experience.  Mission accomplished.  Bonding complete.  Plus I got to use both the fold-up rain coat and my Nature Conservancy umbrella.

So, let's review the portable not-peeing-in-the-woods devices that I took along, shall we?

First, we have the folding toilet seat that can be used with or without an attached plastic bag (on the left in this photo -- I've spared you the shot of me licking the toilet seat), but has no lid and a bag-retaining rim that falls off if you even consider looking at it.  Without a lid, unless you're replacing the bag every time, it seems kind of stupid to use the bag, because, well, yuck.  This one worked best the one time I trudged into the woods (which was never very far, because you can see forever in this area and there didn't seem to be much point in trudging out farther so that the view of my parts would be only a bit smaller and blurrier, and please ask me why every frickin' time I went to the bathroom out there, some stupid hunters would drive by.  Slowly.  Then turn around and come back.  Slowly.)...where was I?  Oh yes, trudging into the woods with the lidless potty.  And my adze.  This lidless seat is actually quite good for sitting over a hole that you've dug, doing your business, and then covering it up.  Saves the thighs.  (I guess that's why old people don't camp so much.)  But really, the star potty performer was the Luggable Loo (I'm groping the lid with great affection in the photo).  That thing is awesome.  Lived up to the rave reviews on Amazon (if I'm ever in a situation without water/sewer connection, I want this thing), and literally saved my ass and other body parts in the pouring rain at 3 am.  Because Nature DID frickin' call post-brussel sprouts, cauliflower and alcohol in a pretty heavy rain.  I mean, I fought it for like 3 hours (because the bitch rang me up at midnight), but then Nature's call could no longer be ignored.  As promised, I answered with the Luggable Loo, which I'm going to rename, the Lovable Loo.  At 3 am, in the dark with a very soggy roll of TP that kept breaking apart, struggling to hold my umbrella in the rain, sitting on my safe, sanitary, black plastic seat (that was dry because it has a LID), I fell in L-O-V-E, instead of into some chipmunk hole in the woods (or maybe a rabbit hole, because I think Chip and Dale were tree dwellers, at least at Warner Bros.).  And there you have it -- the Luggable Loo is really lovable.  I will not camp without it in future, and given the frequency of drive-bys while unsucessfully trying to duck behind ferns while on the pot, I am considering buying the Loo it's own privacy shelter.  Take that, you stupid hunters.  [Update: You know I couldn't live without a portable pop-up privacy hut for the privy.  Because I'm really not pooping in the woods on any future trips.  And thanks to the wonders of Amazon Prime, HERE IT IS!!!  ===>

Looks good in my living room, doesn't it?]

Camping was a lot of work, but totally fun, and made me crazy nostalgic for my old Girl Scout buddy burner and vagabond stove -- I've made two buddy burners since I got home and bought the ginormous number 10 cans of green beans and other assorted giant cans of food necessary to make the cooking surface/stoves over the burners tonight.  Look for a vagabond stove conflagration in my neighborhood soon.

Meanhile, I'll post the photos from the expedition (taken by those Divas who DIDN'T lose the charge in their phones within hours of arrival and DIDN'T let their sleeping quarters flood in the rain -- lesson learned; I get it) as soon as possible, like in the morning.  I'm only up now because I'm waiting for a yogurt cheesecake to cool off a bit.  Is that so wrong? 

Ena and I did some Yee on the trip right before the heavens opened.  (Maybe it was a sign.)  But I'm still pudgy and squidgy and middle-aged.

Look for Ena's Diva Camping trip blog (which will be much more interesting and informative and probably have less potty stuff) soon.  I'll post a link (like I know how).

Update:  No, I didn't post those dang photos right away, because I actually had to do some work.  But I'll post a few here and maybe some more with my latest brain infarction exploring the relationship between camping and beans, coming to this blog by the weekend.  Here you go.

In the driveway, before departure.  Of course we look good.  It doesn't last long.

And for contrast -- 1.5 days later in rain, post alcohol and soggy M&Ms.  (Yeah, It's a good look.  I was awake all night with the rain and the brussel sprouts/cauliflower colon expansion deal (not to mention alcohol, which I'm pretty sure I mentioned), and started chipping away at the blue candy-coated shell on my face sometime about 4 a.m.  I left a surprising amount of it on my pillow.  And on my face.  Lookin' really good on Sunday morning.  But I'm not a morning person anyway, so who cares.) Thanks to Ena, Mary J, and Julie for making this such a fun trip. 

I totally love this shot -- freakazoid Lola imprisoned in the Nylon Palace against her will.  She is the neediest little sh!t on the planet -- chewed a leash apart when I left her in camp alone to go up the hill for FB reception (that was before the phone battery died and I found out I brought the wrong cable for a recharge).  She would have ripped the tent to shreds if I hadn't left her a peep hole.

And the boo-boos sharing McD's french fries in the car, because what's the rule?  The rule is that I get to have a cheeseburger and fries whenever I do a road trip.  So we all had fries on the way up and back.  The doggies likey the fries.  (Look how cute they are!!  Thanks Ena, for taking such great photos.)

Because it's never a good idea to wrestle a wet tent with a poodle after two glasses of white "table" wine.

Well, I admit it, I've been a little bit depressed lately.  Just not feeling the working out/bloggin' thing.  I'm STUCK around 115 pounds, still a bit squidgy, and would like to lose 5 more pounds.  But, on the plus side, I was worse a year ago.  I'm trying to Bring It, but Ena hurt her back, so I have no motivation, and my sister can only work out like once a week, and that's at 8 or 9 at night my time, which is when I'm usually on my second drink, so it's not my preferred schedule.  I do, however, continue to try.

The BIG excitement this week is a camping trip!  Yes, squeeze me and squeal like a 10-year-old girl, I'm frickin' excited about camping.  It's like being a Girl Scout again, but with WAY better equipment.  I don't even care if the heavens open up like it's the friggin' apocolypse.  I am ready.  I've got a cool fold-up-into-a-bag rain coat, a sizeable umbrella, a tarp for under the tent, and a brand new two-room four/five-man tent for myself and two doggies, and I'm ready to rock.  Let it rain -- I'ma be chillin' in my tent with my homies on an air mattress with wool blankie, 800TC sheets, fleece, and a cotton quilt topper.  And if nature calls (hello?), I'ma answer on one of my two new I'm-not-peeing-in-the-woods pottie chairs.  Oh yes, it is possible to competely avoid nature while camping. 

Oh, and wrestling with the tent and the poodle?  Well, I did what was supposed to be a "dry" run with the new tent last night.  Easy-breezy slap up the tent in the front yard and make sure it's all there, check the size...you know.  But there must be some rule about putting up a tent.   I'm busy fighting the wind and running around to four corners of this nylon palace, when it starts to frickin' rain.  Yes, there IS a rule that if you put up a tent it must rain before you can get inside.  But I got the thing up and it was awesome and comfy -- so comfy that I couldn't get Lola the little-poodle-who-doesn't-know-she's-about-to-camp out of the tent!  Glad she likes it, because it's about to be home for two days.  Anyhoo, the wet run went pretty well -- only stepped on the poodle twice and I learned not to try to put the poles into the corner thingies until the end, and those two left over poles probably go in the rain fly.  So I won't look like an amateur when I camp and it was all worth it.  Maybe I'll turn into a "camper!"  I've certainly got all the sh!t now.

So, I'll update after the big trip -- am taking the Yee so we can yoga in the great out of doors, assuming my ipod holds out.  And maybe my special Old Gringos with the rhinestones, so that I can feel like I'm stylin in the wilderness.  And some champagne.  Lots of champagne.

Is it a groove, or a 115.4 pound rut?

Yeah, still not feelin' the blogging thing.  But I don't have much to report.  I'm in a self-improvement rut.  I'm totally stuck at 114.4, or 115.4, depending on time of day, month, and spot on the bathroom floor.  I'm Bringin' It with Ena and/or Steve whenever possible, but schedules do not always permit (we only got to Bring It once this week), so then I have to rely on my sporadic Skype workouts with my sister in St. Paul.  The good news is that I am actually starting to miss working out when I don't do it.  Yeah!  Because motivating to do the workout has always been like 99.8% of my problem.  So last weekend, when I was left to my own devices, I intentionally went for a walk (which would have worked out better without the toy poodle that pooped out after 20 minutes and had to be carried home), and then ripped up my abs with the ol' Ab Ripper X -- sixteen minutes of ab-tastic fun with "in-and-outs," "crunchy frogs," and "mason twists."  Yeah, it's as fun as it sounds.  But even with sparse work outs, I think I'm seeing some improvement -- the layer of fat on my arms is less dimply and I feel less like a breakfast muffin in my jeans and stuff.  I think if I keep it up, I might eventually get back into shape.  It just may be more like P900X -- what's that, like 2.5 years? 

So today was a good day -- Ena and I did shoulders, back and triceps, PLUS Ab Ripper X, and then I did 50 minutes of Power Yoga with my sister and the Yee tonight.  Now if I can only work out like maybe one or two more times this week.  And for the rest of my frickin' life.  Sigh.  SO depressing.  The Crazy Bitches of New Jersey are my only solace -- I can always rely on them for some excellent cussing, fighting, more cussing, some unnecessary scary plastic surgery, fighting again, and then some more cussing with Jersey accents.  All good and I feel better.  And classier, Bitch!

Those bastards at Safeway put the Blue Box on sale.

Seriously, when there's a GIANT end cap display of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of my favorite blue boxes all lined up and ready to take home, and the sign says 5 for $5, WTF am I gonna do?  I had to buy some.  BUT, I only bought two.  A year ago, I would have bought five, or maybe ten.  But I did have BBQ chips and cottage cheese for dinner tonight, so it's not like I'm a saint or anything.  I still have no will power.  I have to NOT buy stuff, because if it's in the house, I'm eatin' eat.  I might feel bad later, but I'm eatin' it.  In fact, just writing about the Blue Box and knowing I have 2 in the kitchen is making me salivate.  (Did Pavlov feed his doggies mac n cheese?  Cuz that would've done the job.)

The lazy blogger and America's evil body image.

I've lost that blogging feeling.  Just have nothing to say.  Maybe because I was SO bad for three weeks without my P90partner, Ena.  But Ena's back and we Brought It to our legs and backs on Monday.  And yet, I've still got what feels like 20 pounds of back and belly fat -- I sat and pinched it tonight during Coco Before Chanel.  (I KNOW it's not my fault and I should just take a pill and be all better, but somehow I want to do it the old-fashioned way.)  Enter FitTv, my hero.  I'm watching "The Skinny on Fat" produced as part of the National Body Challenge.  It's an Oz-fest exploring the fat that makes us Americans -- big, fat, diabetic Americans.  It's loaded with great information from our cute scrub-sporting doctor.  But even this show tells us it is NOT our fault if we're fat.  It that's true, then shouldn't some of the Biggest Loser contestants fail miserably?  And yet all of them lose weight.  Not just a little, but a LOT of weight once they start eating right and working out.  So, while I think people may have some predisposition toward obesity, I think it's lazy to just decide that you can't help it, because I think everyone can to some extent, and it's dangerous to do nothing about it.

But more annoying than the "it's not my fault, and I can't do anything about it" attitude, is the idea that doing nothing, not working out, not eating right, just piggin' away and sitting around, is normal, acceptable behavior, and that working out, say 3 times per week, is strange and "obsessive."  Seriously.  I told an acquaintance that I was working out and trying to get back into shape (and, as we know, I'm not working out that much), and she told me I shouldn't "obsess" about it.  "Obsess?"  WTF.  So working out like 3 times per week and actually attempting to get into some kind of healthy shape, instead of being a lump of lard (even if my lumps aren't nearly as bad as 60-70% of the rest of America) is "obsessive."  That's just frickin' sad.  Where has our body image gone, when working out a few times a week and trying to get into a healthy, stronger, leaner, and less future-diabetic shape, is "obsessive?"

Well, if working out a few times a week and trying to get healthy is obsessive, then sign me freakin' up.  I'd rather be crazy than lazy.  Ouch -- harsh, I know.  But there it is.  MHO.

Blaaaaaaahhhhhh and the Cirque pas du Soleil.

I haven't posted in forever.  I'm just not feelin' it.  Am doing a whole lot of NOT working out and NOT getting skinny.  Cheetos (the Natural ones, of course) are my life and soul.  (Although I did clean out my office and file stuff today -- once a year, whether it needs it or not.)

On the upside, TCM is running a night of circus-themed horror movies.  After Freaks, I caught Circus of Horrors, and now Berserk (Joan Crawford) is making my Friday night fabulous.  Who needs to work out? Pas moi.  Muscle?  Overrated.  I'm sure I'll be sorry tomorrow.  Because, yes, there was some wine and internet shopping involved.

P.S.  The eczema is almost gone since I've vampired-up with pants, long sleeves and big hats (what kind of idot vampire would live in Phoenix?) in 114F heat.  Yeah, it's a good look.  I love my life.  Okay, really I do, so my sarcasm there was kind of stoopid.  I blame the wine.

Bringin It Solo. Who knew?

I absolutely cannot believe that I done Brung It all by myself yesterday.  I guess I don't want to lose the progress I've made Bringin It with Ena and Steve (who are both out of town, damn their souls).  And maybe I've gotten used to working out and I kind of missed it.  So I popped in a little chest, shoulders and triceps action yesterday and did a full hour with Tony and the rest of the super freaks with ripped abs in my living room.  Oh yeah.  I'm bad.  I can do like 15 boy push-ups now.  In a row.  And I kind of like doing abs.  (It's so exciting to be getting back into shape and losing the flab!)

Don't get me wrong -- I'm a long way from ripped.  And my external layer of fat is truly resilient.  I thought it would be long gone by now.  But nope, it's permafat (kind of like permafrost, only fat).  So I still feel a bit old and pudgy, I bought bigger tops this summer, my fat still squishes unflatteringly around anything more constricting than baggy boxer shorts, and I won't be wearing a bikini any time soon, but the layer of fat is a little thinner and I don't feel as bad in my jeans and my larger-sized tops.  Plus I'm not as worried about what I eat, because I'm burning it off and then counting on the new muscle to continue to kill the fat.  I'm not ready to buy more of the Blue-Box-that-should-not-enter-my-cupboards yet, but I'm hoping by the fall that I'll be able to withstand the occasional Mac ('n cheese) Attack.

Because I'm feeling better in my pants, I haven't checked the scale in a while.  So I'ma do it now.  Do I undress first?  Who knows, back in a flash....

...well, after removing my heavy (French Gap) jeans, my Keen tennies, and my biggest jewelry, I came in at 115.6.  And that was at the most "accurate" (i.e., the lightest) spot on my bathroom floor.  Am I the only one whose scale gives different readings at different locations?  If I put the scale at one spot on my tile, I weigh a full pound more than at other spots.  What, is gravity working harder there?  Anyway, I'd like to be a bit lighter, but I'm chalking this one up to (1) more muscle from frickin' thousands of P90pushups, and (2) the really dense Baby Bel "light" cheese wheel that I had with my toast this morning.  That thing was like an alien material -- like half a ton in a 1" wax package.  Holy heavy cow.

A big slice of the Fourth.

Let's see, Cheetos (lots), fried chicken strips (also lots), sub sandwich, egg rolls, seven layer dip with chips (most of the platter, because I was lucky enough to snag the last tray at Safeway), 3 fudgesicles, and 2/3ds of a giant raspberry pudding cake ring.  And, of course, a Bud Light Lime and 2-3 glasses of wine.  Oh yeah, I'm a patriot.  A pudgy little patriot.

The good, the bad, and the itchy.

Well, the good news is, I'm Bringin' It again.  Yeah!!!  Kudos to Ena's spouse and P90X substitute, Steve-O, for Bringin' It this morning.  In fact, he's the one that motivated, cuz I probably would've gotten around to calling to arrange a workout, oh, next week.  So we killed ourselves with legs and back and then really put the hurt on with Ab Ripper X.  Wahooooooo!  Oh, I'm a health nut.  Another six months of this and I really WILL have abs.

The bad and the itchy are kind of one and the same.  My skin continues to try to kill me.  Yesterday I walked the dogs for about 10 minutes when it was sunny and about as hot as the surface of the sun, and with legs and arms exposed.  I guess my sunscreen must have worn off, because I paid for that with a return of eczema (the itch that rashes) all over my arms and lower legs (plus my face itches, but my hat must have protected me from the full-on eczema or Grover's on my face).  I'm back to where I was two years ago, waking up at night itching all over, so I have to get up and put heat (I like to use my hair dryer, thanks) on the rash to fire off the histamine.  Nice.  Basically, since March it's become more and more clear that I'm photosensitive.  So now, not only am I allergic to grass, trees, dust, pollen, dogs, cats, and basically everything that grows or breathes, now I'm apparently allergic to friggin' sunshine.  Sunshine!  Shit.  It's kind of sunny here in Phoenix.  And so much for spending the 4th poolside workin' on my tan.   

So life is good when it's not sucking rocks.  Let's do a quick check with the New Digital and see what two weeks in Europe did to my middle-aged flabby body....114.6.  Ouch a little bit.  And I must confess -- the scale actually said 116.4, but then I removed a shirt layer and moved the scale to another spot on the floor to get a "more accurate" read.  114.6 it is.

P.S.  Snooty photo of attempt to avoid French sunshine while face recovering from red-spotted Grover's inserted here -- always classy with my tiger T-shirt.

P.P.S.  P90Update: the legs and back workout provides a painful, but excellent, non-surgical butt lift.  You know what's great when it's 112F and your butt hurts?  A fudgesicle.  Hard to type with, but tasty.

Oh, so you can't open a bottle of wine with a shoe? I can.

Okay, two cool things, and then I've got to go:

1.  They had new layout options, so I'm trying this one.  Like it?

2.   The most awesome video ever, showing how to open a bottle of wine using a shoe.  Yes, a shoe.  Go there, see it, try it, report back.  open vino with shoe

I had to clean my whole fur-infested house this morning, then re-stock the fridge, so guess what got cut out of my morning plan?  Yes, Bringing It was a bust.  Didn't happen.  Not even 20 mins with Gilad as a substitute.

Dang it.  But the wine thing is totally cool. 

Pooped, lagged, and P90partnerless.

So I got home from Italy/France, after 21 hours of sitting on planes and in aiports, about 7pm local last night.  Was absolutely pooped in a figurative sense, and then stepped in a more literal version.  I somehow managed to step into a fresh bit of dog poop that my dog MAY have accidentally and completely innocently dropped on my kitchen floor.  Unfortunately, it was one of those deals where you don't see it, you step in it, and then you run around the house (yes, spreading it all over) going, "What smells like dog poop?  Why do I smell dog poop everywhere?  Oh shit."  So then I spent another half hour de-pooping my shoes and bleaching the hard floors and spraying sanitizer on the rugs until I can clean them more thoroughly.   Just what I wanted to do while exhausted.  My vacation is SO over.

Managed to get to bed early despite poop problem, but that was apparently a mistake, since my body was all BOOM, "welcome to wide awake," at 1:30 a.m.  I've already been to the bathroom, taken a Benadryl, watched the end of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and don't have much more to say, blog-wise.  That's not good.  Guess I'll have to watch the 1997 Ray Liotta thriller that's on next -- Turbulence is Airport with a bunch of in-flight murders and a really hard-to-believe ending where Lauren Holly, the scared-but-incredibly-brave flight attendant (can't call 'em stewardi any more, can we?) lands the plane.  OMG I hope I fall asleep before the dramatic ending.  And P.S., I've been overseas several times -- how come I never get the ginormous, 12-seat-across double decker plane with a cocktail lounge on the second floor and only a handful of passengers?  How do I get me a ticket on one of those, but with no snakes, serial killers, or engine problems?

Despite my scale photo from Paris (that big green thing did not work and seems to be a way for someone to collect 1E per idiot who thinks it might really work), I have no idea whether I maintained my weight over two weeks of eating yummy forbidden food with nothing more challenging to my fat than walking around old castles.  I don't think castle walking is any match for chocolate croissant consumption.  So, as much as I hate being healthy and working out, I'm gonna try to get back into the Bringin' It schedule this week.  BUT, my P90Partner, Ena, is now out of town for three weeks.  Double shit.  Can I bring it alone?  Doubtful, but we'll work something out.

And, in yet another free plug for the guys at Beach Body, Ena's husband Steve got back from Down Under about a week before I went overseas.  We showed Steve how swell it is to Bring It, and Steve jumped in and Brought It with Ena while I was gone, proving, yet again, that I CAN be replaced.  Steve likes it so much, that Steve and Ena bought another copy of P90X.  Dang!  Steve and Ena will eventually have to post a schedule to use their P90X (Bring it!) Studio.

Okay, gotta go -- the criminals have escaped and murdered the good guys, the plane has a hole in it (but Lauren plugged it up with a briefcase), the pilots are out of commission, and Lauren ("Terri") is already attempting to fly "the most sophisticated plane that has ever been built" into an "unsophisticated storm" with the assistance of ground control and a pilot busy flying another sophisticated plane.  Plus I think Ray Liotta is about to kill the mom from Child's Play (who is another, less-important flight attendant), because she knows too much.  Yep she's gone.

Red spots.

So I’m sitting here in CDG aeroport in Paris.  Just had another damn pain au chocolate (tasty croissant loaded with butter and chocolate, um, YUM), but that was my LAST one.  After this, I’m back home eating yogurt and fried rice and BRINGIN’ IT 3 days a week.  Can’t have a cup of tea, because I’m here 2 heurs avant my flight, and they ain’t no toilettes inside the gate area.  But they’ve got a nice place where you can drink yourself silly and pissy on coffee, etc.

What I need now is a big ol’ nap.  But I couldn’t lay down, even if there was a nice squishy bed in the gate area, because I’m wearing my giant red floppy French hat (because no matter how I configured it, it would NOT fit in my overstuffed luggage).  Totally inconspicuous.  But the passport guy liked it.  Am wondering whether my hat and my ass will fit comfortably in one coach seat on the flights home.

Who cares.  Had a great time in Italy and France (was technically in Spain, but won’t count that hour), but am happy to be going home.  Work is gonna suck, but looking forward to being home with my doggies in the “very dry” 110F heat.

And on a health note, my skin is still freakin’ trying to kill me.  Or at least make me look bad.  A day after I arrived in Venice, I got enormous itchy red spots all over my checks, from chin to eyes.  Definitely not middle-aged acne, and probably the Grover’s.  NO idea what caused it – was fine before and during trip over.  And I’m fine now – it got worse for a few days and then gradually improved over the last week, so that I’m almost normal now.  But everyone in Southern France now thinks I have crazy bad skin.  That’s okay, I mean, it’s not like I wanted to maybe take some photos so that I could remember this trip for years to come or anything.

Quelle Horreur!

Oops.  I checked the scales at my last stop here in Paris (you can't even see Notre Dame right behind me), and things are not looking good.  And that was before last night's large boeuf  with (what else) pommes de terre ('cuz I love my taters) and tart de citron revisitee.

Ena:  we gonna have to BRING IT when I get home, girlfriend!!

Hey, I can blog from Venice!!!

How sweet is this?  I’m finally relaxed and on vacation.  And it only took about 3 weeks of stress and four Snickers bars to to it.  So I’m sitting (alone) at breakfast this morning (because my sister and nephew were not moving when I woke up (itchy, of course) at   6:30 local time.   Arrived in the rain yesterday afternoon after about 24 hours of lovely travel.  Buy hey, I’m here.  And I’m ready to see Venice.  So they’d better get their butts up.

   Here are the favorite photos so far.Had  ginormous, delicious, expensive filet mignon with bernaise last night.  Plan is to walk ass off today in penance.  Oh, darn, will have to visit every shop in town.

Bringin It to the muscles and the fat -- is that an ab?

Bring it!  And today I really mean it.  Not sarcastically, not with crossed birds instead of arms, but really, truly, gag-me-with-a-spoon-from-the-eighties-enthusiasm.  Bring.  It.  

Because I'm pretty sure I caught a glimpse of ab in the mirror when I was getting dressed this morning.  And while I still have plenty of fat covering almost all my "muscle," that fat is definitely thinner, the thighs are less cheesy, and I'm getting some definition again.  Just, what, like three weeks into Bringin It?  So, clearly, actually working out and eating less DOES work (which I knew, of course, I just wasn't motivatin' to do it).  So I have to thank Ena for motivating with me -- there is just no way I would be doing this if it was up to me, myself and I.  Work out, or lay on the couch?  Tough call?  Nope, couch always wins.  Couch = about 6,000 and workout maybe 60 over the last 20 years.  So thank you Ena for helping me Bring It.  And kudos to the P90X program, which has actually been excellent for workin' out.   How refreshing to find a product that is well done and gives you value for your money.  If  Ena will keep workin' out with me, I will never buy another plastic-whatever that becomes a dusty clothes rack or plant stand to be Craigslisted a year after purchase.  Once we found out how to make Tony-baloney ZIP IT and play music instead, it's quite pleasant and really does the job.  Yesterday Ena and I Brought It to our shoulders, chests, and triceps, plus ripped our abs with Ab terror X.  We must have done like 5,000 push ups -- my arms were shaking as soon as we got started.  And Ena and I decided that the workouts seem like they're getting harder and we can't figure out why -- we thought the first few seemed pretty easy, and now we long for the days of Heavy Pants.  They've got like 11 DVDs in there, so maybe the later ones ARE tougher.  And I can feel it.  I can feel every one of these Bring It sessions.  But if you aren't feelin' it, it's not working, so that's good.  In fact, I felt so good about my possible ab sighting this morning, that I ran in and checked my weight on the New Digital.

Drumroll, please...............................112.6!  WITH abs!

Seriously.  I might have to stop mocking the whole Bring It deal.

So Snickers are on sale at Safeway.

Okay, I feel the need to post something, because it's been a while and I'm about to get crazy busy and then skip town.  There was no Bringing It this weekend, so I've done nothing but let my muscles heal since last Thursday.  Am relying on the new and improved muscle to burn more fat than usual.  The New Digital hasn't budged since Friday -- I have solidified at 114.4.  At least I'm not going up.

Confession: Had to buy 4 Snickers bars at Safeway the other day -- they were on sale:  buy 2, get 2 free.  You cannot ignore the get two free promotion.  But I've only eaten one so far.  I told myself they were for my trip next week.  If they make it to next week, I'll definitely take them -- I'd rather be flabby than eat some of that airplane "food."

Gotta go play catch up.

Snickers update:

Days to departure: 6, 5, 4
Stress level caused by work deadlines and trip planning: 1 bar, 2 bars
Bars to Snickers extinction: 2.5 2
Probability of Snickers survival for trip:  Not good.  Bars removed to packing area in guest room for their own safety.

Who wouldn't pay to see us do Super Banana Man?

Well, this morning I was only 114 point-something after Bringin' It and removing my heavy tennis shoes.  So I'm moving in the right direction again.  Ena and I done Brung It yet again this morning -- that's four times in the last week and a half.  As Ena pointed out this morning, it's a good thing we're not doing this 6 days a week (as recommended), because it would probably kill us.  They need a P90X for middle aged ladies who like to cuss and bitch and giggle while working out.  Someone told Ena the other day that we should stream video of our workouts and "make money" by charging people to watch.  And I'm all like "Who'd want to watch US work out?  We'd spend all our time giving refunds."  But then this morning, while we were doing "banana rolls" and "Superman banana rolls" and some other shit that I cannot remember (because I'm a middle aged lady, not 20-something), I kind of changed my mind.  It might actually be hysterical to see middle aged ladies rolling around on the floor of Ena's garage, while laughing and saying "F#CK ME!"  I might pay money to see our workout this morning, and I was there.  Like I said, there's a lot of cussing and stuff like, "What's he doing now?  Oh, shit!!"  And, of course, there's always the pre-Bring It thrash of, "Oh,  I forgot to change tennis shoes." "Oh, I forgot my water bottle."  And my personal favorite: "Where are YOU sore today?"  So maybe we should set up a web cam and stream video.  AS IF two middle-aged knuckleheads like us really know how to do that.  Hey, it's a dream.

Lemme tell you, the P90X (Bring It!) Core Synergistics was the toughest workout yet -- it worked both upper and lower body, plus about killed me with cardio, because it's HARD to work both the upper and lower body at the same time.  I felt like I got an @$$ lift from last Thursday's workout (that thing was awesome), and I can hardly wait to see what hurts tomorrow.  I've already graduated to boys' push ups at least SOME of the time, and the scab on my knee is starting to heal, so I think we're making some progress.  I also feel like my arms look better and my back fat is on the run.

Gotta go -- need to rest up for the next work out.

All muscle, or that stick of butter I ate? Thanks tons, Pam.

115.4  Shit.  The scale's going in the wrong direction.  I'd like to think that it's all muscle from 3 serious workouts in Ena's garage.  (Bring It!)  But I think it's more likely just the 17 cookies containing an entire stick of butter, which I made on Friday night and ate on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and this morning -- there is only one, sad, lonely, and truly delicious butter-filled chocolate-chunk cookie left.

Pamela's gluten-free chocolate chunk cookies.  Yum.

Doggie daybreak.

So I'm lying in bed this morning trying to sleep late, but now, in addition to my a$$ and legs, my arms and shoulders are also sore, plus the dog won't stop barking, my arms and legs ITCH like crazy (thank you atopic dermatitis and allergy season), the hospital helicopter just buzzed the house and made all my 1929 windows rattle, and the ABBA songs from Mama Mia keep going through my head, because it was on HBO yesterday.  Sunday morning is NOT going like I'd planned it.

All I can say is, thank God we aren't tryin' to Bring It six days a week, because I can barely move from working out half that much.  But I'm up (almost -- I'm typing this in bed with the barky dog locked out of the room), and the rest of the day has to be better.

And did you notice I've got links to Amazon on my blog now?  Technology can be a beautiful thing.  And, P.S., bubble umbrellas now available at my local Target for $17.  Life is not bad.

My sore A$$ and silent Tony.

Whew!  Is my butt sore!  Ena was too ill to Bring It on Tuesday night (we had an evil plan to Bring It 3X/week, which is, of course, way less than the 6X/week prescribed by the program, but way more than we can handle), so we Brought It last night (Thursday).  And I only fell/flew out the door of Ena's garage twice while trying to do wall squats, before Ena shot the dead bolt for me.  Note that we tried a different "music and cues" option and found out that we CAN make Tony zip it.  No more yackity-yack from Tony while we're trying to Bring It (I'm makin' the universal sign for yacking with one hand and rolling my eyes appropriately, but you can't really put that into print) -- and the P90X officially gets a 5-star rating from this middle-aged pudgy lady!  Kudos for giving us the option.

So not only did we Bring It to our legs and backs (which made our glutes  sore - wtf?), but we felt so energized when we were done, that we did 20 minutes of Power Yoga with the Yee to relax.  Have I mentioned I love the Yee?  So we were FRICKIN' AWESOME for two nights in the last week.  I still have lots of back fat, and am tippin' the scales at 114.8 (see what I mean with the point 8?) tonight in my new Athleta Walking in the Woods skort.  (I am amused at my continued purchase of sports wear from Athleta, which I wear almost daily, as if I was a really active/athletic youngish woman.  My little joke on the world.  Ha.)  And we will be Bringing It again Saturday morning.

OOOOh.  Gotta go -- Jack is about to tell Tom "You can't HANLDE the truth!!!!!"  (Someone alert crazy Kelly B, so that she can see where the phrase actually originated -- Al Sharpton, Al Sharpton!!)

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I DID!"

Go Jack.  One of his best roles.

"I'M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND PISS IN YOUR DEAD SKULL!"  Can I say that in my blog?  Too late. 

Somebody get the license plate...

...of the truck that hit me last night in my sleep.

Okay, Ena and I done Brung It big time last night.  It was a marathon session of P90X (Bring It!), followed by Zumba, then sitting our asses on the floor and finishing the pinot we started during Zumba instruction.  (Because the beauty of Zumba, is that it's pretty much like going out clubbing, and I totally drink when I club, so I figure I can drink when I Zumba -- it's the perfect marriage of my desires to drink and lose weight.  So until they develop a time machine to take me back to my 20s, when I could go out drinking and dancing until 6 am and I had no back fat, I think Zumba is the winner.  Plus we had just worked out, for real, for about an hour.  So technically, the Zumba was just gravy, and drinking + Zumba = better than drinking + couch + remote.)

So, anyway, there we were in Ena's garage/workshop/studio.  (Ena has a touch of OCD, so it's freakishly neat and tidy, right up to the kayak and canoe attached to the rafters.)  The Bring It prep took like an hour, because Ena set up water and the projector screen and I had to run home for the right tennies for this workout, and then there was adjusting the projector and the Pre-Bring It photo opp, where Ena and I had to make idiots of ourselves doing the P90X "Bring It!" X in front of the screen while being blinded by the projector.  (That actually took most of our prep time, but I think you will thank us when you see the results that I'm about to insert -- right after I finish cleaning the soap scum off the bathtub. Okay, done cleaning the tub -- will  have to start taking showers, because the soap scum in the bath tub is killing me.)  I'll update when Ena sends me her photos.

Back to the Bringin' It! photo shoot.

Here we have Ena.

Ena is ready to Bring It.

Bring It, Ena Bring It!

This is Tracy.

Tracy is also ready to Bring It, even though she's having a bad hair day and looks a little stiff.

Bring It, Tracy, Bring It!

So there we were -- all ready to Bring It.  After many weeks of TALKING about Bringing It.  We were finally ready.  The P90X materials told us to start with the chest and back work out, so we complied.  And my back fat had better watch out, because I'm one "Heavy Pants" rep away from being able to wear a bra without a muffin top on my back.

The work out was tough, but very doable -- Tony (our P90X inventor/instructor) gives you plenty of breaks in between sets of push-ups-that-I-can't-really-do-yet and pull-ups-for-which-I-didn't-buy-the-bar.  So there was plenty of time to drink the gallon of water that seems to be required to get through this work out.

Overall, I was very pleased with the workout.  I like that Tony has a mostly positive attitude -- you're supposed to say "I am currently challenged by...." instead of "I can't do" whatever.  I like that.  In fact, it came in really handy several times during our work out, because "I am currently challenged by" more than the first 20 push ups we did last night.  I am reminded of them today every time I move my shoulders.  So thanks for that, Tony.  My only complaint so far (other than how the hell did I skin my knee doing push ups on a yoga mat in my Athleta yoga pants?, which injury, BTW, gets me out of doing this workout for at least a week -- "I'm sorry, I have a knee injury that prevents me from doing push ups.") is that Tony WILL NOT shut up.  Where's crazy Kelly when I need to tell someone to "Zip it!"  I can't hang out all day in push up position waiting for Tony to shut up and start already.  At one point, I did a whole set of pull ups and then found out he hadn't even started yet, 'cuz he was still yacking.  Geez, Tony, we could have knocked this workout out in 45 minutes, instead of 55, if you'd just zip it.  So, overall rating?  I'd give it 4 stars, deducting one star for Tony's inability to shut up.  I guess I know why the DVD gives you the option of running it without listening to Tony.  So maybe I'll try that next time and give it 5 stars.

Which takes us to Zumba.  My Zumba "Total Body Transformation" (that's optimistic, yes?) package arrived very promptly -- got it on Friday after whatever day I ordered it mid-week, so that was speedy.  Oh, and I almost forgot -- Ena and I developed our own alternate P90X-crazed "Bring It" X, but it involves flying two birds while shouting "Bring THIS!"  Unfortunately, we didn't get the photo.  Maybe next time.

And speaking of photos, here's our last one -- the post-Bring It pinot.  Don't we look healthy?  And don't you love the halo created by the reflectorized fabric of my baseball cap?  I don't think anyone needs to seem me THAT badly at any time of day or night.  Kind of freaky.  Remind me not to wear it next time.

Back to Zumba, which is even fun to type.  What's not to love?  If my back fat hadn't already had enough, I really gave it something to whine about when we followed up Bringin' It with a whole 50 minutes of Zumba.  Okay.  Here's the deal with Zumba.  Everyone in the workout video is 20-something, crazy skinny, and gorgeous.  So if Zumba can do this for me, it's worth more than the 70 bucks it cost me to get 5 DVDs (more on the 5th DVD later) and a set of Zumba maracas.  Creator Beto Whoever is ripped and hot and kind of gives you a smoldering look with his congratulations at the end of each dance/workout segment.  That alone might be worth the price of admission.  But wait, there's more.  The first DVD has instructions on how to do the various steps, so in case you're over 25 and not a professional dancer, you can learn to do the steps and look LESS like an idiot.  They make it very easy.  Actually working it into the workout, is another question.  After that, since I didn't bring the remote for my projector, we couldn't play the 20 minute express workout on the big screen (the reason is too boring to explain in a blog), but while Ena was taking a phone call from Down Under, I put the sculting/toning Zumba workout up and we did that.  It really was fun.  And you really can drink while doing it, although you DEFINITELY didn't hear that here, and I don't recommend it, and you probably shouldn't drink and dance (or sing) anyway.

But my FAVORITE part of Zumba, was the live dance party DVD.  Finally, some middle aged white ladies with some back fat.  They still had the regular young/hot crew, but the middle-aged white ladies were definitely representin'.  Thank you ladies, I feel less old and fat and dorky.  Anyway, the dance party looked fun (I was too tired to do it after two hours of working out and a glass and a half of wine), and we still haven't even tried the cardio workout or the express workout.  So you get instruction, an express workout, a cardio and a sculpting workout, plus a 50-minute live dance party workout.  I think that's money well-spent.  Thank you Beto Whoever -- I am happy.  Oooh, plus they have cool ZumbaWear.  So not only is Zumba hip and fun, you actually get to wear hip and fun clothing (and even jewelry, thank you) while working out.  It's a Win-Win.

By the time we finished the sculpting Zumba (and I have no idea what time it actually was -- I didn't get home until midnight), I was wiped and we just sat on the floor in Ena's garage/workout/dance studio and polished off a bottle of the Irony pinot.  We likey the Irony.  I put in the 5th mystery Zumba DVD, which basically just said "Come join the party," because I had no idea what it was.  It turned out to be a 3-minute ad for Zumba that repeats endlessly.  It ran like 5 times before we realized that.  But who cares?   We were happy with the Irony.  I'll be dropping the 5th DVD into the recycling bin today.

Okay, I've got to get back to scrapbooking -- I'm currently in Pompeii and only Naples remains after that.  I am determined/required to finish scrapping the 2009 trip, before I go back to Europe in a few weeks.  Damn digital photos.

Now THAT'S some good TV. Al Sharpton!

All I can say is, it's best to turn on the close captioning before you watch the RHoNYC and Kelly B's major mess of crazy.  Cuz they all start talking and, trust me, you don't want to miss a syllable of this stuff -- it is PRICELESS!!  OMG.  I don't know what Whitney Kelly was smokin' or mainlining, but I don't want any!  Just Wow.  She complains about how "mean" other people are to her, and spends an entire vacation (on Ramona's dime, thank you) being a complete crazy bee-otch -- she attacks and insults pretty much everyone, and when she's not doing that, she's yelling over everyone and telling them to "Zip it."  Kelly continually insists on questioning Bethany's right to be called a "chef" (B did graduate from culinary school) and calls B a "Ho Bag," and then cries because she has nightmares that B is trying to kill her.  Huh?  Can you say "Nut Bag?"  I wonder why Kelly hasn't noticed that while she is telling Bethany to "get over" the death of her father, who was apparently a jackass that didn't love his own child, Kelly  is unable to "get over" some mysterious perceived criticism of her kids in the media, which she assumes came from Bethany, but Kelly doesn't actually have any proof of that, so K continually attacks Bethany and calls her names, while simultaneously complaining that everyone is picking on her.  Tonight she called Alex a vampire, told Ramona, Alex, and even her sole defender, Sonja, to "Zip it," and accused B of trying to kill her, "because she's tried to kill me so many times before."  All I can say is, some psycho needs to Zip It, and her name is spelled Kelly.

One last note about the Crazy that IS Kelly.  Her clueless comments are some of the most delicious moments.  Last week, she told the ladies that they needed to stop discussing issues with Jill, because they were "making lemonade out of lemons," because they were making things "bigger"  -- you know like you do when you make lemonade!  (She actually argued about the meaning of the expression when the ladies tried to explain it to her.  Priceless.)  This week she comes to breakfast with a notepad so "Instead of people talking about stuff, maybe they can write it down."  And when B does the "You can't HANDLE the truth!" line delivered by Jack Nicholson in a Few Good Men (as any idiot but K knows), K laughs and shouts "Al Sharpton!" not just once, but three times, and is apparently very pleased with herself for her keen observation!  Even better than K's complete idiocy, are the various looks of total puzzlement on every other face, while Kelly hoots "Al Sharpton!  Al Sharpton! Ha, ha, ha, ha!  Put your hair up, it's Al Sharpton!"  I still don't know where she got Al Sharpton out of that, but that's what makes it so hysterical.  And by that time, they'd all given up on trying to rein in the Crazy, so they didn't even bother to call her on it, or ask her WTF she was ranting about.  LOVE, love the Crazy. 

Don't know how I managed to get in 20 minutes of yoga --that was some good TV.  AL SHARPTON!  Ha, ha, ha, ha!  Al Sharpton!

Is it wrong to want a Bedazzler?

I hit a new low today.  I found myself seriously comparing the merits of the Bedazzler and GemMagic products on Amazon.  What's WRONG with me?  I could have been working out.  But NOOOOOOO, I'm looking at plastic toys for setting studs and tacking rhinestones all over my textiles.  I am happy to report that I didn't actually put anything in my cart (although my finger hovered over that "add to cart" button for JUUUUST a second).  What will power I have NOT to waste $15 on that crap.  (Although it would be kind of fun to just throw a few nail heads on some stuff....it could still happen.  The GemMagic gets better reviews.  FYI.  NOT that you're interested.) 

Will power decidedly absent this morning when I drove "thru" at MickeyD's.  My rule is, if I'm out and about and it will actually SAVE me time (like on ANY road trip), I can drive thru.  And, I had to check again, just to be sure, but my cheeseburger-fry standard "drive thru" meal is only 540 calories.  Now, I'm not sayin' that's great.  I would probably have consumed fewer calories if I'd eaten at home.  And I'm sure there was lots of fat and maybe even some transfat and other evil in there, like maybe some crazy radiated cow, or cow-like product, or something (see that Food, Inc. movie -- I know I was surprised at what they do to our hamburgers).  But I got the JOY of snarfin' down every last sub-atomic particle of those 540 calories and then licking the salt off my fingers.  Mmmm.  It doesn't get much tastier than some ground "beef," "cheese," and condiments on a bun, along with some taters deep fried in a bunch of fat.  I'll have V8 for dinner.  Or with dinner.  Or maybe I'll work out.  (ROTFL -- I crack myself up.)  But it's kind of possible.

P.S.  Maybe if I bedazzle my sweats with something like "JUICY," no one will notice my jiggly old ass?

Two words: Zumba.

So it turns out that I haven't tried EVERY workout video known to mankind.  There's still Zumba.  (And I really never did give the Cardio Ballroom a fair shot -- Ena and I tried it after LOTS of alcohol one night and only managed about 10 minutes worth.  And frankly, I don't remember whether it was good or bad, so I haven't REALLY done it yet.)  But you know I'm totally going to get the Zumba DVD before I ever try the stupid Cardio Ballroom thing again.  Plus I still haven't Brung It yet.  

But Ena's back from Down Under and we have big plans to use her garage to Bring It.  Unfortunately, I found out last night that Bringing It apparently requires us to repaint her frickin' garage.  I can't even remember why this morning, but it seems like it had something to do with the projection of the P90X video on her walls.   But then she remembered that she has a screen, so maybe I'll get out of painting. Anyway, as soon as my face swelling (another frickin' allergic reaction to God-only-knows-what that gave most of my face a 2nd degree burn with  blisters that turned to scabbing and massive swelling) goes down and I look less like a citizen of Mongolia (because it totally made my cheeks fat and red and squeezed my eyes half shut), I'm ready to Bring It.

But I put the Zumba dvd into my cart anyway.

115.6

Sigh.  Just FIVE pounds, Baby Jesus!  How hard can that be?  I've been good.  Kind of.  Mostly.  Shit, don't I get points for good intentions?  Don't make me ask Santa.

Well, thank God I didn't bother to re-set the stupid clock.

Because the power went out again this morning.  What up APS?  You trying to burn down the hood?  Or just preparing us for power loss every time a breeze comes through during mosoon season? 

Before today's black out I washed the car with the new brush.  SWEET.  It really does reach the middle of the sun roof!  And, although some of the burnt-on bird poopage was stubborn, it did a beautimous job on the basic dirt and dust all over my car.  My car looked so nice that I decided to buff out the smears I got on it by ramming into my own plant urns in the driveway.  ("Here she comes, here comes Speed Racer....")  And then I was gonna touch up the paint chips, but my ten-year old touch up auto paint was dead.  So then I had to spend like two hours tracking down more touch up paint (plus primer and clear coat, natch) and some plastic paint for the driver's door control area that's all scratched up....And 50 bucks later, I'm waiting for more sh!t to store and another project that won't get done for weeks, months, or years, depending.  Hopefully I'll hop right on this one, because I'm enjoying the new car cleaning toys -- still waiting for the new sponge, squeegees, no rinse wash, grit guard, and the replacement Mr. Clean Auto Dry system, since mine frickin' soaked me today (oh, plus I need a new hose).  So maybe I'll still be playin with the car washing stuff when the paint arrives and it will all get done.

The weight loss has been quite a struggle this week.  I've still got skin issues that make me not want to work out.  That and I'd rather watch the Crazy B!tches with a glass of champagne.  Plus I didn't totally rid myself of the bad food this week -- I had chips and dip for dinner one night.  Probably not good.  And lots of frozen yogurt (I found a really large tub of fat free, so duh).  And there was some other bad stuff in there somewhere.  My new plan is to have a glass of V8 every time I want to snack.  That's worked great for like 6 hours so far, so I figure I'm set for life with my new V8 diet.  Okay, I'ma go weigh in...115.6.  So V8 it is.  I'll be going to Safeway for like ten gallons for the weekend.  Enjoy yours.

Twenty-five bucks worth of nostalgia.

My bubble umbrella arrived today.  (In a GIANT box with my car washing brush that attaches to the hose, so that I can wash my car myself, like once a year, after I've forgotten what a pain in the a$$ it is to wash my car and I'm certain that no one does as good a job cleaning my car as I can.)  Oh, you thought I was playin'?  Nope, I bought it.  And I have to say -- the thrill is NOT gone.  Am lovin' the bubble.  Can't wait until it rains in the desert again and I, hopefully, remember that I have the bubble.  Of course, I also ordered a mini-umbrella with B&W scenes of Paris on it, so it's going to be a tough call in terms of which one to use.  Theoretically, the mini is to throw in my purse to avoid heat stroke when it's 120 F this summer, but I might be too afraid of looking like a jackass to use it as a parasol.  Of course, the older I get, the more willing-to-look-like-a-jackass I become -- the reason all parents embarrass their children, I must assume.  So we'll see.  But I'll definitely be testing the car washing brush -- no more bird poop on my chest from trying to reach the middle of the sun roof with a sponge and my dinky arms.  Happy Days ahead.

Meanwhile, I remain motivationally-challenged and slightly itchy while holding steady at about 116.  I'm working on more exercise (did some lunges and stuff while watching an Agatha Christie/Miss Marple movie this morning and a walk with Mary B last night -- thanks as ALWAYS to Mary B for the motivation) and less bad food (I finished the chocolate cake and ate the last scone today, so I'm clear for the rest of the week until Sunday -- nothing but gluten-free pasta with my own healthy veggie sauce and maybe some egg fried rice with veggies, plus it's getting hot again, so I'm sure some G or B smoothies are in my future).  Sh!t.  Just noticed that my ipod boom box clock, that I just got set for the first time in like a YEAR last week, is now flashing because the power went out for ten seconds this morning.  It's always something.  And it's NEVER my fault.  That's my story.  Anyway, while a social life and weight loss continue to elude my grasp, I have a cool new umbrella and will be driving a not-so-completely-filthy car soon.  Gotta go set the stupid clock.