Quiet! You're still on a Diet..

Costco. My mother's dreamworld, and my father's nightmare. Me? I can't decide whether Costco has improved or screwed up my life. For example, I walked into my house after quite a hard workout with my trainer Aaron (there are bound to be blogs about that poor fellow) and head straight for the refridgerator. All the way home I have been plotting my next nutrition move and have calculated the most pristine balance of proteins and carbs to complement all the work I just barely did. But trouble is bound to lie ahead as it always does. I walk through the garage and nearly trip over an empty cardboard box. I think to myself, "Self, why is there a cardboard box in the way of my path to the door?" Myself discovers the answer quite quickly as I glance around the dimly lit garage to find that this is not a lone cardboard box. This box has not only intruded upon my pathway, it has invited all of its boxy friends to take up residence in what should be my parking spot in the garage. This is clue #1 that someone has put these boxes to great use. Anyways now I'm on my way inside with eyebrows raised to find the next clue that someone has been to the land of costco. I find it quite quickly when I ritually look into the pantry (to obviously make sure that all the pantry products are in their proper place and none of them need me to move/eat them) and find it more stocked than usual. I do not recall those cans on the ground nor do I remember that box of gummy treats blocking my view of the dried mangos... Gingerly I walk into the kitchen. It looks cleaner. Why is it cleaner? I begin to get nervous. I make sure no one is around as I reach for the handle to open the machine that keeps my food at the perfect temperature. I touch, I grasp, I tug, I pull (it seems to be sticker than usual & requires a little elbow grease and effort to open now. Coincidence? Mostly likely not) and then it happens. All my fears are manifest as I gaze into a fully stocked fridge with an array of goodies cuddling together on the shelves. Suddenly it does not matter what I had planned to eat all the way until this point. Gym? What gym? Workout? Never happened.. I can't help myself, its a dieter's worst nightmare. It's as though the fridge has been surrounded by soft heavenly lights and an angelic choir has descended upon me to sing the song of my warmth filled soul. I regret ever eating that orange in the car when I open the thing of grapes. I call it the "thing" because no one knows exactly what to call that plastic container it comes in. Its not a box, but it not a bowl- its just the thing. Now you may think this gives you reason to mock me... You may laugh as I worry about consuming fruits of everykind, but its not the plump juicy crunchy grapes that are the problem, its the whole concept behind this overwhelming display of food in front of me. I become indecisive and end up eating a little of everything that was brought home, and then continue to eat a lot of what really tasted good to me out of those sample tastes. Sample tastes. Now that's another problem I have with Costco. Costco is large, it has to be in order to have all those rows and rows of food you never thought possible to have. Because Costco is large there is never really a "short/fast/brief/quick costco run". Call it what you want mom, but if your idea of short is like 30 minutes then lets never do anything that you would consider "long" together. But throw in those cute old women giving you samples and your costco trip just doubled in duration. Some feebly mumble out "sample" (although they don't need to because my eye is always searching for those red and white checkered tableclothes) and everything you taste seems like it just came out of that old woman's oven. You long to be this woman's grandchild, and you wish this sample was not just a sample. So now your costco trip is getting longer, more expensive, and a whole lot heavier to load and unload into your car. Not to mention you are losing agility and speed from all these freaking samples! Moral of the story: Costco is a trap. Smart skinny people don't shop at Costco. Well that was a broad accusation, those skinny people probably have one thing I feel like most of us lack, and that is self-control. They have goals, shopping lists, and time limits. They stop for no one and nothing-- not even you old grandma. Take your sample and give it to someone who cares. Apparently in my mind skinny people are also quite rude..

Emily Vs. Darla

3/21/10 7:30 a.m.

Amidst the bustle and harsh scrutiny of the various flight attendants making sure the degree of my chair remains in the upright position and that my bag is not exposed beneath my feet, I watch the most curious of human behaviors. A girl not more than 8 has so graciously decided to sit across the aisle from my chosen seat, and although she is clearly upset because she has been so rudely separated from her father (who is currently seated behind me) she finds menial tasks to entertain herself while her younger sister (seated next to her) picks at her like an ape. Her first chosen victim is the sky mall magazine, which resides in the seat back in front of her. Sky mall is seemingly harmless I would think, it offers me awfully interesting gadgets that for the duration of the flight I am convinced I need. Not just need, these items are life-sustaining necessities. Like for example, who doesn’t need the self-rinsing grass patch that apartment and condo dogs love? It even comes with a scented fire hydrant to attract my loyal pooch. Now, I don’t have a dog, but I imagine if I did I would want him to have this, and it would be possible all thanks to sky mall. Anyway, this little girl (who for the sake of resemblance we will call Darla, for I feel like one of her helpless goldfish in the all to small bag trying to escape) takes the magazine into her diabolical hands and begins to systematically rip out every page of the innocent paper product…One-By-One. Mind you, there are one or two other people watching this girl now, but she is oblivious. As her sister attempts to notify her by a gentle tap of the spectacle she has become to surrounding passengers she WHAPS her harder than an angry schoolteacher. She does this all without skipping a heartfelt beat in her shredding ceremony. After she finally realizes that the sky mall magazine no longer fits her fancy, she moves onto the unpeeling the southwest sticker off the tray table in front of her. Realizing that this too is a bad idea, she stops just in time to ask the attendant for a hot chocolate. This girl definitely does not need anything with caffeine byproducts in it, nor does she need anything with the words HOT. Suddenly the ground begins to rumble and the earth begins to shake, and I am sure that hell has opened up its mouth to welcome back its master. I realize that we have now only begun to take off. Long, long, weird flight ahead. She looks bored. I am almost sure she is bored. She at least is unamused enough to look over and make eye contact with me for approximately 10 seconds. Scariest 10 seconds of my life, I dare not breathe for fear I might light another vicious flame from within her. Good thing Daddy (who is definitely oblivious now reading his own un-torn copy of sky mall) has invested in a child size laptop. Maybe she should play some kind of violent game it to slack her thirst for aggressive interaction. Well farewell Darla, may your leopard print children’s glasses and your big Angelina Jolie lips take you far in life.

She scares me. Her beady eyes keep glancing menacingly in my direction. She knows. Omnipotence is one of her born talents. Taking note from afar, I believe she has peace earrings on too. Now that is what Mrs. Clark would refer to as ironic. Gum and Gameboys—both don’t last very long seeing as she has almost single-handedly made it through an entire pack and I don’t think we have even soared over St. George

My Self-Welcome To Blogging

Blogging.

The idea is just fun. F-U-N. My blog fancy was sparked because of my lack of journaling skills. I have always been a problem solver so first the problem: I hate journaling. The solution: make my thoughts accessible to everyone via the internet. Problem solver. Now I do realize that things are a little different with this blog then they would be in my journal.. First and obviously I cannot technically use the real names of the victims- I mean people- that are featured in my witty writing. The whole excitement of stealing away into my bedroom in my absence and looting through the my innermost unedited thoughts of my journal is going to be missing from your life. Believe me, it makes me sad too, but I think we can get through this together, with a little bit of can-do attitude and a whole lot of funny observations. A couple of ground rules, you can judge me if you'd like, but I don't care. This is MY blog, and if you don't like it, it doesn't like you. There will be times where I may-heaven forbid- misspell words or just plain old make new ones up. Its spunky, its what gives my new baby (the blog) character and sass. And like any normal human being, if you see an ugly baby (again referring to the blog) you don't just go up to that poor mother and ask why she would do such a cruel thing, you grin, make a small joke, fretfully coo at the thing, and run like heck. I expect you to do the same thing in this situation. Lastly, don't expect anything profound. Smart people intimidate me & I just want to write my observations... So basically I'm seeing everything you do, I just sit down and in the midst of my love affair with the my laptop, create cooler things.