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Monday, April 29, 2013

So Many WTFs...

What's this?

Ewww...right?

Is that a...a...um??


NO! NO! NO! FARRAH GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!!!!


Surprise!  It's just a blow up elephant bouncy house.  A totally innocent elephant with a dick for a trunk.  What kid doesn't love to play in something a little unknowingly pornographic?


This thing was at the Apple Blossom Festival.  This erotic elephant with its eyes rolling back in its head was chosen ON PURPOSE to be one of the many fun toys for kids to play in.  I took one look at it and thought...where's my damn phone...I HAVE to take a picture of this!!!  Keeping my ears open, I heard every adult around giggling and wondering...um, what the fuck?  It was rad.  I turned to a couple and said, "Are you seeing this?"  We were all laughing.  One lady said, "WHY A PURPLE TRUNK AND PINK END?!!!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"  It was so awesome.  While she didn't know why she was taking my picture, Farrah took a great one of me.  I knew the moment I saw the "exit" that this thing was getting on my page immediately.  Here's the thing...It obviously looks like a penis.  However, it also looks like a vagina.  It is a hot mess of sexuality on a children's toy.  It's a little like Disney artists who get a little bored and simply say, "Yeah, I'm going to stick a dick riiiiiight there!  They won't notice until I've long retired and it'll be too late.  Muahahahaha!"  

So, I looked at it and thought each child that exited the "tip" were a representation of the sperm that made it.  Hooray!!  Then some would come out and they'd open the exit real wide and I'd think of childbirth.  It was a rebirth!  Sometimes, it got frightening because some of those children came out in the breach position.  That's scary.  

In any case, the maker of this "blow-up-elephant-doll" is either a humorous genius, a bored genius, or some completely messed up pedophile.  Did he run out of grey fabric?  Even that would be disturbing, but I honestly feel there was a lot of thought put into this monster dick.  But even better?  The people who ordered this for Apple Blossom thought, "Yay!  Perfect!  We'll order that one for the little kids to play in because it is simply adorable and innocent.  It is free of weird looking beastiality because we would totally not be okay with that."

Well, folks who ordered that thing for the Apple Blossom Festival...you had several young children playing in and on a giant dick.  Well done.  Next time when planning things out, go through your personal "toy" drawer and if anything looks remotely close to any of those things...make sure you choose a different thing for the young children to play on.  If YOU want to play with it, fine.  Just don't expose our kids to that shit just yet, thanks.

I recall hollering to Farrah to hurry up and get the hell out of there!  WHERE WAS THE HAND SANITIZER?!!  

Gewww.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Unreasonable Fear of Water


Back when I was in my teens, my friend, Jen, and I would go out to the Puget Sound and lay out on air mattresses and float and sometimes go swimming in the ridiculously frigid water.  We always had a good time doing this...until one fateful day.  The Puget Sound water is very dark and therefore, you cannot see a damn thing.  Sometimes, you can't even see your feet when looking straight down.  It's not because you're out swimming in crude oil, it's because there is a pretty big drop off out there.  This one day, Jen and I were out swimming in the coldness when I used some of my best acting skills to date, "Holy shit!! SOMETHING TOUCHED ME!!! WHAT WAS THAT?!!!"
Whoops.
Jen proceded to crawl on top of my head to save her own ass from the nothingness that had just not touched me.  She certainly proved to me that day...that I could go fuck myself.  She was going to live while she pushed my body down further into the mouth and throat of whatever was trying to attack us so she could get away while it choked on my body.  Did I mention we were best friends?  Yeah.  That moment always made me question the validity of that title.

The movie "Ghoulies".  One of the ghoulies was a water monster.  A scene from the movie during a teenage party (always, right?) the ghoulies came out to torment and of course, eat and murder people.  Well, the water-ghoulie popped it's head out of a toilet.  I was pretty young when I saw that.  You can imagine the thrill of using toilets after that.  Have a seat and hope to god a weird green monster didn't bite my ass off.  (That visualization could go in so many gross directions, but feel free to use your own imagination there.)

Swimming pools and sharks.  Why not?  Sharks swim in pools, right?  No, they don't.  But in my mind, they do.  They still do if I am in a pool by myself and there is a deep end.  The good news about the fear of sharks in a pool?  It makes you swim VERY fast!  Always helped when racing.

Lakes.  I have been in many lakes in my life and one of the things that pops in my mind from time to time is..."How many dead bodies are at the bottom of this lake?"  The answer...A LOT.  Of course there is!  In my own lifetime, I've heard of this person who drowned, that person who drowned, bodies found, bodies not found, blah, blah, blah.  However, the lakes have been around for a very long time and at the bottom of those very big and very deep lakes are very dead bodies or at least, bones. SO, when out on a Jet Ski or a ski boat and somehow I've managed to "fall" into the water, I'm wondering if and when a skeletal hand is going to reach up and pull me down.  I do not want that to happen to me.  Not just that, I think about things like, oh...the Lochness Monster, or even better...WHALES!  Which makes sense, of course, because everyone knows whales live in lakes and attack people everyday.  If I've ever been in the water, I've often thought about whatever evil is lurking below me and creepily watching for the perfect opportunity to eat the bottom half of my body.  I think that would suck.


Friday, April 26, 2013

This Guy...

...is sitting right next to me.

Have you ever been around someone who can't just sit still when seated?  This person's leg is in constant shaking and tapping motion like they're listening to music with a crazy-fast beat to it (only they're not listening to anything at all)?  This person always looks like they've got a lot to say and are thinking way too hard how to formulate a sentence.  This person gets up an unnecessary amount of times to walk to the restroom.

This person?  Yeah, we all know him or her and we want to tell them politely, to put the straw away and save the cocaine for another time when they're nowhere near us.  At least that's me.  Settle the fuck down and stop with the crazy leg action!

It could be some nervous behavior he has, but still.  There was a day that I was walking out and as my feet were heading for the door, I was presented with an interview that I was not prepared for.  Question after question and I fired back with my answers as fast as I could in order to escape.  I had my keys in my hand and all my shit packed up and hanging off my body, but he didn't read this as a sign of "I gotta go".

Plus, it makes me nervous if he's sitting near me (which is all the time) if I don't have my headphones on, I'm going to get trapped in a conversation when I've got shit to do.  Also, it feels like a mini earthquake is happening all around me and I'm not sure if I should duck and cover or get up and shove him off his stool.  Option B sounds best.

I know a lot like him.  Some, it's not as annoying as others and it is somewhat tolerable.  Others, I want to punch in the throat.  The ones that can't sit still when you are having a meeting and all you can read in their face is they can hardly wait for whoever is speaking to shut up so they can have their turn.  That's a good indicator that the bouncy leg person wasn't listening at all.  These are the ones that drive me crazy.

Really...put down the straw, in fact, throw it away.  The cocaine induced ideas are probably not that good.

Pocket Full of Sunshine...

Sometimes people simply fascinate me.  The good and the bad.  But, honestly it's the poops-in-the-pants people that are the most intriguing.  I don't know why, though.  I guess it's because I look at life as just...life.  It happens.  Good and bad.  It is up to us as to how we intend to deal or not deal with the life we have, the cards we've been dealt, and people and circumstances that are a part of us whether we like it or not.  Twice today, I have been seated by women that look at the world as a place that everyone but them, have taken a huge dump on.  Life is shit.  Life is shit...because everyone else shits on it.  No, ladies, you're shitting on your own life.
My poo-poo platter is over flowing onto side dishes, soup bowls, bread plates, and even into my coffee cup.  Gross.  But, guess what I do?  Not what these women do.  If I did what these women did, I would be in such a sick place in my life and close to being on my death bed just like one of them is.  One of the ladies that I've been listening to is ill.  She's not well at all and my heart goes out to her...until she speaks.  What she has is sucking the life out of her...but so is her behavior.  Everything that she has talked about for the past 2 hours has been about how she plans to "tear a new one into so-and-so" and  she's going to "sue this person and that person" and "how dare they treat me like this" and I could keep going but I don't want to catch what she has, nor do I want you to.



The irony?  As soon as this woman's friend left, she turned around to face me while I was typing about her as if she sensed it, she reached out her hand to introduce herself, and she took a seat at my table.  Umm..did this actually happen?  It did.  It did happen.  So, the conversation she had been having with her friend started up with me.  While I bitch about people's poor behaviors, I do try to take an opportunity like I had with this one and turn the tables on her.  She went on and on about her illness, her "horrible" ex-husband, the judge that handled her case (10 years ago, mind you), and how there's a conspiracy where people are out to get her and ruin her life.

The one question I asked to get her to stop talking for even a second:  "Is there anything you're happy about?"
"Of course!! I'm happy to be alive!!" but this was answered with such cynicism, it was as if she wasn't really happy to be alive.
I tried again:  "I get that you're happy to be alive, isn't everyone?  But WHY are you happy to be alive?  What brings you joy everyday?  What makes you smile?  What brings you butterflies each day?"
(Obviously, I was trying to get this lady to dig deep inside herself and stop pointing her sick finger at everyone else)
This question made her breakdown crying.  I felt bad for only a second.  She proceeded to tell me the things that made her truly happy and even though she cried while telling me, she was also smiling.  First time I'd seen this woman smile since she sat down.  I pointed out that she should be able to feel her own energy shift in a happier "feel-better" place when she focuses on that stuff rather than all the other bullshit.  That's all that it is.  Bullshit.

Sorry.  I know she has a rough go of it and times are tough for her and in her opinion, she needs to get revenge on any and all people that have fucked her over and they ALL have it coming.  Really?  Do they?  She's sick.  Not even knowing this lady, I felt like I was her fucking therapist of the obvious.  Did she really think her time was best spent going after her ex, the old judge, the doctors, her neighbors, and anyone else who's done her wrong??  How about spend quality time with her kids?  That sounds better.  How about doing anything that makes her happy and brings GOOD excitement in her life?  She was intrigued by me because she saw I was writing a book.  She was too!  Well...not really.  She has a title.  And...it's going to be non-fiction based on her life.
I did the one thing you don't do to writers...I gave my opinion.  I know better, but...I know better.  I told her the beauty of writing a book that is Fiction is you can take your own personal life experiences and put them into a story and give them to a character that is NOT YOU so you don't have to relive your own piece of crap life.  That's how you write a great story.  Take real life situations and twist it into someone else's life and make it about them and not you.  It is also a release.
I asked, "Do you journal?"
"Well, of course I do."
"Do you burn it later?"
"No. Why would I do that?"
"If what you're writing about is awful shit that isn't something you want to relive by going back and reading it a week from now, a month from now, or even a year from now...burn the damn thing.  Let it go!"

Here's the thing...I am not a therapist.  I do not walk around thinking my life is perfect, because I know it's not.  And when it comes to this kind of crap, I am not a know-it-all.  However, I REFUSE to let go of who I am which is the person who will forever look at the bright side of everything regardless of the current situation.  That being said, I will also use the healthy therapy of losing my shit and breaking down crying hard when it is very necessary (and very private).  And when I'm done doing that...I'm done.  Back to life.  Do I want revenge on people that have fucked me over?  Sometimes.  But do I want to waste even parts of my life doing that?  Fuck, no.  I just want to LIVE my life.  I don't like to dump my shit on others and try to make them as miserable as I might be in that moment like that woman did.  It was weird.  Even faking it is healthier and can even feel better!  So, my hopes for that woman is that maybe she heard me.  Just a little.  However, hearing how the ugliness and hateful words escaped her mouth...she is doomed.  She will not get healthy.  She will lose her battles with all these "evil" people.  And most important, the things that made her cry because they brought her so much joy will be forgotten and she will miss out on LIFE.
Whatever shit we're going through in our own private little lives, we should never let it consume us or define us.
Fucking fake it if you have to!  It's so much better to be around that than being around a true Debbie-Downer.  I mean...she was a professional of unhappiness, bitterness, hatefulness, and misery.

She probably needed a hug...but I didn't want to be further exposed and end up catching her "Hate".  

Tuesday, April 09, 2013

Totally Inappropriate

I've been working out since I was 15.  When I began, it was at my high school and the only opening they had was with all the football players.  The class was filled with about 25 guys totally juiced up with natural testosterone and me with two other girls.  This was not your typical weight lifting class.  The beauty of it, though, was the fact that the guys in the class took their lifting very serious.  Loved that.  So, at the time, I learned along with my small group of girls how to push it hard.  Since the weight lifting coach was also the football coach, there was no room for a bunch of pussies.  The one day we had our "max" day was where we would lift once as heavy as we could with perfect form.  It also included max pull-ups, dips, bench press, etc.  I remember benching my own weight and having 8 guys  around me saying, "GO! GO! GO! DO IT!! PUSH THROUGH IT!!!"  It was rad.  I was one of them.  I also held the record for most dips for the school ever.  (I had freaky big triceps).  Again, I had the encouragement behind me the whole time.

Well, since those glory days of radness in high school and true support of my friends (guys and girls) who had the same goals - staying fit and getting stronger - I've continued that path ever since.  While I've always worked out since, the last 2-3 weeks I've decided to really physically push myself by incorporating more cardio, lifting heavier, and trying out new things I've never done before.  I've stepped it up a bit.  Lifting, and lifting heavy, is a bit of therapy and it is something I can see if I'm just kidding myself or if I'm truly giving it my all.  I know I can curl the 15s with ease and perfect form, but can I push it up to the 17.5s?  Perhaps the 20s?  I'll only know if I dig deep beyond my tiredness and desire to simply wrap it up and fucking go for it.  And I do.  I'll throw extra plates on when benching, I'll do Burpees and incorporate a push-up in the process making it more difficult, I'll make it a daily regiment to do the kettle bell swing to keep my butt tight, lower back strong, and shoulders defined.  I'm taking care of ME.  I need this right now because it is a part of my life that I absolutely love and am passionate about.

I've never competed, but the thought enters my mind from time to time.  Way too late for the Emerald Cup, but maybe another show.  The men and women who compete have a grueling regiment that they have to do every day.  It includes crazy workouts, incredible dieting, and ridiculous amounts of water and protein and vitamins.  It is a lifestyle I am quite familiar with whether I participated on stage or not...I have lived it.  Part of living it is looking for and at the physical results.

I know I now live in a very conservative town...but c'mon.  I've been working hard enough to feel comfortable to wear a sports bra as my top to be able to see the results with my abs, obliques, and back.  I wore it today.  I have three others - black, red, white.  I'm not stupid.  The white one is too much boobage and it truly isn't serving the purpose of wearing a sports bra anyway.  I'd be too busy looking at my own boobs making sure I didn't have a wardrobe malfunction.  However, the other ones I have, I have worn for quite some time.  Again, the purpose is to see what the hell I'm doing and if it is working.  I'm not one to walk into the locker room and pull up my shirt and pose in front of the mirror. But again, in the bodybuilding world it isn't unheard of for a guy to pull his shorts up as high as they'll go to see how shredded their quads are, take off their tank tops to see their pecs, deltoids, abs, etc.  While others would view it as odd...it is a fucking sport!  I'm not 100% sure that I wouldn't compete, but I'm going to have my body in rockin' shape for this spring and summer, dammit.  I need that for me.

So...I wore a black sports bra today and workout pants.  I worked my ass off today.  I needed to get things out of my system and it came in the form of pushing myself hard and watching as my abs got tighter and tighter.  Tight abs on a chick are rad, I think!  So, during my workout that honestly, was NO DIFFERENT than any other as far as interactions with people and the intensity level I was going...I was suddenly approached by a Gold's employee.  I knew exactly what he was going to say and where it was coming from.  "We've been receiving some complaints about your attire and you need to know the dress code is t-shirts.  Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."  And he was sincere, but probably more uncomfortable when I asked, "Who has been complaining?  Men or women?"  "Women."  My response was, "Of course it is.  Whatever."

I worked out at my old gym constantly in sports bras/tops all the time.  The most shit I'd ever get was being told, "Kathy, are you just walking around flexing?  You look stupid." (Thanks, Gavin.)  But that's it!  NEVER did I encounter issues with other women.  Several others wore similar things, too.  I'd never experienced cattiness from women.  And here's my thought, right or wrong.  Keep in mind...if you don't like what I'm about to say, sorry.  You chose to read this after reading the disclaimer.  If you're unsure, then go back and read it again:

Why on earth would I wear that?  BECAUSE I CAN AND I EARNED IT!!!  The fact that a handful of women saw me working out and decided it was "inappropriate" and "distracting", then they don't know what the hell they are doing or why they're there.  "Oh my god, look at what she's wearing.  Jesus, she's doing an exercise that is so difficult to do and wearing that?!!  I can't even sit on this machine I'm not even using any longer.  She makes me sick.  I feel it is my civil duty to complain about her top!"  When I workout there, I don't shake my ass.  I don't shimmy my shoulders to make my boobs bounce around.  I NEVER stretch or do exercises that are where I'm horribly on display if anything I'm doing could be looked at as being even remotely provocative.  That just simply isn't my style.

Did it make those women feel better to tattle on my top?  Did it improve their workout skills?  Did it make it so their difficult areas were suddenly gone?  If I worked out in a bikini, I could see how that might be inappropriate and distracting.  Duh.  However, the clothes I wore were specifically developed for what I was doing!!  Otherwise, what's the god damn point that Nike, Reebok, REI, Adidas, Russel, or any other athletic company would make these?  Let's see what makes sense here...

Good

EXACTLY what I wore today, only the top was black.

Normal workout attire...why else is it made?

Um...uh uh.

No, no, no.

Nay!

So, there it is.  Not everyone is built the same way and not everyone can wear the same clothes, but give me a damn break.  If these women worked out at my gym, do I get to say something to the front desk about how my eyes are burning?  Sure I can.  But would I?  Hell no!!!  They are comfortable in what they are wearing...so they are left alone.  As I should be, too!  Whatever...gonna buy a few sheer tank tops to go over my sports bra tops.  They say one word...I just might flip out.  And by flip out, I mean I'll do cartwheels all the way from one side of the gym to the other...then they can complain about how I'm "distracting" or acting "inappropriate".





Monday, April 08, 2013

Burnt Roasted Turkey Drippings

Mmmm...roasted turkey.  Sounds delicious, huh?  Not if it's in your coffee.  Today, I killed my legs at the gym.  I pushed myself to the point of choking back my gag reflexes.  At least an hour past my workout I was coughing because my lungs were wanting to jump out of my throat for the abuse I had just done to my body.  My normal daily routine consists of dropping off Farrah, hitting the gym while guzzling water and apple juice on leg day, protein shake, then off to Mela for coffee and writing.  Well, it was so intense and incorporated massive cardio along with the lifting (anyone who knows me, knows cardio is my nemesis), that I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.  That is not an option as it is not part of my day.

Instead of my usual mocha, I went for tea.  I had a feeling if I went for the rich snickers breve, puke was on its way to the carpet at my feet.  I'm an excellent customer and wouldn't want to have that happen.  And if it did, I already told Justin I'd leave it there and take off pretending it didn't just happen.  Public puking is embarrassing!  So, tea it was.

Here's the thing.  There isn't as much caffeine in tea as there is in coffee.  So, I've been nodding off here and there.  I can't do shit when all I want to do is lay my head down and sleep.  Not cool.  So, I went up to the front counter and whined to Justin about what the hell I could do (I was hoping he was going to tell me they sold that 5 hour energy shot).  What he offered me was something I'd never had in my life in all the years I've either worked as a barista, running a coffee shop, or simply drinking coffee for forever.  Taking a shot of espresso.  He made it and handed it to me.  "What do I do with it?  Do I add sugar or something?"  He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Just throw it back and chase it with your tea."

What?

Did he just give me tequila?

I did as he suggested.  I had no idea how completely disgusting and rancid shots of espresso were.  No idea at all.  See the title of this post?  Yeah.  That is exactly what the flavor of the shot was.  I'm curious if one of the roasted beans they sell is titled "Burnt Thanksgiving Dinner" or "No Gravy Because the Drippings Are All Ash".  Sick, sick, sick and never again.  Am I awake?  Yes, yes I am.  I will give them that.  The task to remain awake was accomplished and here I am typing away about a shitty shot of espresso.  Because that's so important.  Alright, back to work.

I wonder if that shot had the power to give me a bleeding ulcer...I'll find out later.

Saturday, April 06, 2013

Getting a Word in Edgewise

I've learned some things over the years that are important life lessons...

One of which is I used to be notorious for interrupting.  I'm not saying I've mastered the skill of keeping my mouth shut and my mind focused on the conversation taking place in front of me 100%, however, I do get to say that I'm much, much better.  I have learned to ask myself if what it is that I want to interrupt with is truly that important and is it important enough to make the other person feel like shit for a few minutes while I throw in my own opinion?  Yeah...not usually.  Unfortunately, others have yet to learn this skill.  Not just learn it...but throw in a little bit of effort to implement it in their daily routine.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone...a totally benign conversation that you want to actually participate in and find that you're listening to a monologue instead...so you try to add a little something to make it a dialogue resulting in a louder volume from the other person?  Yes?  Do you unknowingly find yourself getting louder in the process?  Yes?  Then it's time to just throw in the damn towel.  You will not be a part of this conversation, I have learned.  I get talked at rather than talked with.  Just nod at the person with a smile on your face and remind yourself that whatever fun facts you were planning on sharing are stored nice and neatly in your brain and it's just too bad they didn't zip it for a second and let you interject with some really great stuff.  Given that I like to talk, to communicate, to tell stories, to learn things and debate things...I am the sort of person that requires that dialogue, not monologue.

I did catch myself last night with my brother, being the interrupter.  I had actually listened to what he was saying and what he was talking about, but in my opinion it wasn't flowing with the subject matter at hand.  We were discussing Lithium batteries.  Riveting subject, right?  I was sharing about information that I'd learned to prolong the life of the Lithium battery and he started in about something that was invented by students at WSU.  Of course, I interjected because I felt what I had to say trumped his silly comment of the WSU students and it halted at, "Are you seriously going to interrupt me and not let me even finish what I'm saying?"  Well, holy shit!  Nope. Not interrupting.  Please continue, brother of mine.
He proceeded to tell me about the invention and whatnot, and then I requested permission to piggyback on his topic.  And I still trumped his topic. BAM!!!  Kidding...his info was rad and mine was equally rad and if you put the two rad ideas together, it would be full of epic radness.

Then there are the times when someone is talking and talking and talking and talking and you just want to say a little something, but all you manage to get out is, "Bu...", "I think...", "Um...", "How di...", "Hey...", but all you truly get out is a "son of a bitch mother fucker" under your breath.  They don't hear it of course, because you're polite...just like me.  I've also caught myself pulling at my own hair and throwing myself onto the nearest couch, bed, or board of rusty nails when this happens.  It truly drives me crazy.

So, as I continue to grow and learn....I find that my skills in not interrupting are getting better and I choose to just listen and nod.  Besides, honestly, to be a great communicator, you must be a great listener.  But that goes both ways folks.

P.S.  Not directed to anyone....just reflecting. :)