April 2008 Archives

Owen's March Shutterfly pics are posted.

That is all.

So, whoda thunk that a weekend of fun could turn on me so cruelly? My whole body aches from walking uphill, downhill, uphill in the rain, downhill in the rain, uphill carrying the kid in the rain, downhill carrying... you get the picture. Oy vay, I am so so so sore all over. Especially my calves. And you'd think w/all that exercise, that i'd at least maybe get to have a pass on eating this weekend. Nope. I indulged (but didn't overindulge) and when I got back, the scale laughed at me and said I gained 2.5 pounds. MOTHER TRUCKER.

Oh well. I suppose that's what happens when you visit a town that was built up on the strength of one major brewery. We visited the Anheuser Busch Brewery. After the tour, Owen's souvenir was a little stuffed Clydesdale, Ryan's was a T-Shirt ... and mine? Well, a six pack of beer. Which was a little foolish, seeing as how we had to drink it all in 36 hours since we couldn't take it on the plane. But we did it! And lucky me, I specifically pick two beers that had an 8% alcohol content.

Something odd I thought I'd share w/you. So as we were leaving the hospitality tent (God bless them - two 11oz beers - and they had a LOT more than just bud), this girl in front of us was feelin' pretty good. She walked out with her boyfriend, and there was an employee there, cleaning the floors. The floors were so shiny, they looked wet, and she made a comment to him about it, in a very flirtacious, tough-girl manner. And I heard him say, very drolly, "Oh yeah, I buff it." And then, I swear to you, I am not making this up, at the exact same time, they say (the girl is walking away at this time, and turns around to say this) "Jimmy Buffet."

What the hell. What two kinds of minds that so randomly meet would think of "Jimmy Buffet" as a response to "Buff It"? Is that a common response as "That's what she said!" is to "Liquor," "Poker," or anything with an -er at the end of it?

So I'm trying to stay away from caffeine. No real reason, just trying to increase my daily water intake and I've heard that for every cup of a caffeinated beverage you drink, you have to replace it with two cups of water. So that would mean I'd have to go pee twice as much. And you know, sitting on the pot, having Austin Power pees - not my thang, really. Sooooo, I guess maybe there is a real reason I'm staying away from caffeine.

Anyway, in the breakroom at work, they had these Tazo Chai Tea filterbags. They look SOOOOOO good and are remind me of my days in the motherland. OK, so not the motherland, seeing as how I've only been there twice. It reminds me of my days at Starbucks, OK?! They have some damn good chai. So anyway, back to the filterbags. I'm thinking, sweet, free tea in the breakroom. But damn, does it have a lot of caffeine?

The answer lies below (if you want to click you can, if not, I'm not offended. I mean, really, it's just about tea, it's not that exciting).

I guess having Fox News on at the gym does have one good purpose ...

They spend 1 minute on interesting stories, and 17 minutes on ahem, not so interesting stories. But the 1 minute stories are so interesting, I go back to their website and find the article about it.

Now I know where the origins of Rick Rolling began! I feel so smatr. (ha, i totally did that on purpose. really.)

They keep the TV channels on to ESPN and Fox News (booooo! They used to have it on CNN, and I liked it much better - but that's another story, for another post). During commercials, these channels play freaking infomercials non-stop. And I watch. And I get hooked. And I want, oh yes, mama want.

I want the damn hanging tomato plant garden hanger thing! I WANT the Ab Rocket (yeah!)!! I even want Dr. Frank's Pet Spray, and I DON'T EVEN HAVE A PET! Much less a pet that is in need of pain sprays.

I'm scared on two counts. 1) That I'm turning into my dad, and 2) That I'm so going to be broke by the time my gym membership runs out. But hey, at least I'll have homegrown tomatoes to fall back on.

You know, I have a confession to make. I lurk. A lot. But I find I only really lurk on the same set of web sites. Blogs of some people I went to college with. I blame google for making those websites so easily accessible. And I blame those people for actually posting their full names on the Internet, making them easily findable by google! (And I thank those people for linking to friends of theirs that I vaguely knew so I can lurk on their blogs, too.)

And I'm sure that some of those people have found my site via site tracking tools. You know, there are analytical tools out there that can tell you where your viewers are located, how often they visit, and even how your visitors got to your site. Were they referred by another site? Did they google something and your page popped up? Or did they flat out type your URL in? One of the niftier things of these analytical tools is you can tell what site these people were on before they came to your site.

Which is why I know that I'm sure I have lurkers, cause I often go from my site to other sites regularly. A little sloppy on my part, but that's ok, homebro. This is the World Wide Web! This is the Internets! We're all connected in one way or other! May as well reconnect!

So I'm too chickensh*t to comment when it's national delurking day or whatever. So don't worry, I don't mind that people lurk here. I really don't. But if you'd like to leave a comment, go ahead. I may even leave them on yours! (If i'm not a wuss.)

And I really only define it as lurking if it's a website that allows for commenting. If you don't allow for comments, then there's no such thing as a lurker, cause, come on, I would TOTALLY get in touch with you if you had a comments section.

(oh, and happy bday to rick and my MIL! (not that my MIL knows this website exists (and I'd like to keep it that way, no offense, just nice to have my own little spot in the world ... but omg, what if SHE lurks?! holy crap.)))

OMG, My sister told me one of the best stories ever. The only thing to really make me laugh yesterday.

Some background - the majority of adults in my family are diabetics. The majority of Indians consume white rice as the main staple of their diet. White Rice is high in simple carbohydrates, meaning it doesn't get processed in your blood as easily, and is a horror for diabetics in terms of insulin production (or something like that - basically, too much consumption of those simple carbohydrates ("white," starchy foods - potatoes, pasta, rice) is NOT good for your blood sugar levels).

So basically, regardless of whether you're diabetic or not, the best course of action is to have portion control when eating those types of foods, so you don't feel sluggish or gross or anything.

BUT GET THIS.

(man, I'm really loving the extended entries on this post so my blog doesn't get bogged down with one mega long post)

So this morning, when I dropped Owen off at school, I found out that he was moving "up" into the next classroom. While this is probably supposed to be a joyous moment for parents, i couldn't help but feel unbelievably sad. My heart ached for him - to be pulled from the class that he knows, the people he hangs out with, the comfort his daily morning routine brings him. And I felt a little more sad for me ... knowing that my little boy was growing up and moving into the three-year-old classroom.

I got to work feeling a little heavier from the whole experience, and have been in a bit of a funk this morning. It's a little hard to explain, I suppose. And a little foreign to me, that something as inconsequential as moving to a new classroom, could have this effect on me. Who knew I'd be that affected?