The Gym..and other minutia of my Life

Warning: MAJOR rant ahead!

With that preface aside, I can guilt-free launch into the ridiculousness which engulfed my mind for at least a solid hour. As I reached the gym and plodded up the stairs to the torturemill, err..I mean TREADmill, I propped up my magazine and put on my headphones. I began my run to the melodic hum of Pat Benetar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" (The kick-off jam is croosh to a good run! It totally sets the mood) no sooner did a portly gentleman hop of the treadmill right next to me. Nevermind the fact that it's like 10 am and there's, um I don't know..like EVERY other treadmill open, going completely unused, but whatever. I politely look over and smile before I silently curse him for being an IDIOT and opting to workout RIGHT next to me, when I notice his T-shirt. And want to kick him in the groin. Before I go further, let me first say that my gym attire is no couture collection. In no way am I decked out in Under Armor or Nike workout wear. I am certainly not saying that I flaunt falls latests runway trends to the treadmill, no, I wear your average running shorts and a tank top (usually a cheap one!). Ok, back to my treadmill BFF, he is wearing an "I (heart) Oreos" T-shirt. What?!?! He is wearing an OREOs shirt...to the GYM!?! WTF??? I mean, thats like wearing a Marlboro shirt to a caner ward. Oreo's are what got my fat ass in this gym-mandating predicament in the first place!! And then to have to push through a grueling 6 miles next to a man blatently professing his love for sugary, carby, goodness? Douche bag! And to make matter worse? He's skinny. I officially hate him. Bastard, bragger! I could look past the fact that he insists on working out RIGHT next to me...WALKING. I could look past his annoying flipping of the newspaper that inevitably resulted in running-mode interference. but I CANNOT, cannot-with-a-capital "C" look past his open proclimation, at the gym no less, that he has a love affair with the ultimate diet-vixen: Oreo-friggin-cookies. May fatness strike his thighs!

Whew, ok, back to me. Another gym-fueled rant boils down to the inordinant amount of sweat I produce on the daily. Let me be blunt here. I am not one of those girls who goes to the gym fully-clad in eyeliner and lipstick. No, sir-ree-bob. It's just me, my New Balances and a sports bra (the cheap kind, thank you very much). My hair rests in a "bun-like" rats nest atop my head, and flat-ironing my bangs? OUT OF THE QUESTION. Let's face it, I'm a beast. Thats how I roll. To those of you familiar with high school biology, there is a term used to describe the process the human body goes through in order to regulate itself and maintain constant internal conditions: homeostasis. Put simply, your body is a well-oiled machine that gets hot when you work out and produces small droplets of water on your skin (aka Sweat) to cool you down. Now, back to me being a beast. I can run a mile in six minutes flat. I haul ass. When I go to the gym I run about 6.5 miles. 6.5 miles of vigorous intervals, 6.5 miles of internally telling myself to shut-up and not punk out. Needless to say, my haul-ass regime isn't pretty. Nor sexy, nor cute. I run hard and it shows. Primarily in the form of a sweat drenched tank top. Pretty standard right? Apparently not. Never fails, some nit-wit just HAS to open his/her mouth and comment on "what a sweaty girl I am". Ok, #1) "Girl" I'm 23 thank-you-very-little. I'm not some teeny bopper selling magazine subscriptions for a school fundraiser. Please try and refrain from talking to me as such. Unless you plan on placing me on Santa's Lap and asking what I want for Christmas (everything, in case your wondering) #2) Um, HELLO! It's a gym, you know, a fitness facility, whose sole purpose of existence lies in getting people to sweat! It's not like I'm a hooker in fish-net stalkings walking up to the Holy Alter about to receive the Body of Christ. I'm a runner, AT THE GYM, who sweats. I really don't think its that inconceivable, astonishing, or magical to warrant so much attention. Its perfectly commonplace to work your ass off and sweat like you have to fit into your prom dress. And that's what I do. Minus the prom dress. So, next time I'm at the gym and I get the critical "Wow, you're sweaty" comment, I will resist the urge to thank Captain Obvious and instead reach for a towel and picture my skinny jeans.

I'm not that good, but I know people who are

Some people are incredibly brilliant, insightful, and resilient. They can feel the pangs of disappointment or defeat and pop right back up and keep on truckin. Others, pour themselves a cocktail and turn on E!. Using trashy entertainment television to minimize your sorrows as you compare hollywood trivialities (read: bullshit) to your own life dilemas can only get you so far. One can only handle the ridiculousness of a Jake Gyllenhall sighting at Fred Segal or the latest Heidi Montag (of MTV Hills fame) drama for so long. It's then that you actually realize the emptiness of your wasted fame-whoring, hour. So, as my financial downsizing (um, can you tell I cancelled cable TV?) rages on, I have been forced to seek out more intellectual and responsible outlets. Hence my latest foray into Joel Osteen's new book: "It Is Your Time." I came across a really powerful and inspiring passage this afternoon that was just to good to go unshared. Now, I am probably breaking all sorts of copyright laws, when I straightup COPY (paraphrasing just wouldnt do this justice)--so I'm resting on the good-natured benevolence of one of my readers to front my bail money while I jet-set to Mexico and hideout. No, just kidding. But anyways, I am sharing this bit in hopes to inspire and breathe faith into others the way it was breathed into me. Please enjoy and feel inspired:

"The fact is that any time God is about to take you to a new level, you will face opposition. There will be new battles to fight, new obstacles to overcome, maybe people who doubt you, or speak poorly of you. I once heard someone say, ' New level, new devil'. It's easy to let negative voices discourage you. It's tempting to think, 'Why is this happening? Why did they doubt me? Or, Why did I get laid off.? Or Why am I hit with one thing or another?' But right beyond today's challenges are tomorrow's victories. New level of success are just on the other side. Whenever God is about to take you to a higher level, you will face stronger opposition. There will be new battles to fight, new obstacles to overcome. The adversity can actually be the tool God uses to promote you. Many times our enemies will do more to catapult us to success than our friends. I know in my life there have been times when I was down. i didn't see a way out. It looked impossible. But I thought, I can't give up now. It would make my enemies too happy. Sometimes we can smile, but not becuase we want to, not becuase we feel like it, but becuase we will not give our enemies the pleasure of seeing us down. On the inside, you may be hurting. But on the outside you should wear a smile. Do not let them see you defeated. Not out of pride. Not out of spite. But out of a quiet confidence, knowing that you are a child of the Most High God, and He would not have allowed it if He did not have a purpose for it."

So there you have it. Spoken like a messenger. Receive it like a listener.

Me?

Today while anxiously driving home, trying to avoid the temptation to text-while-driving, I got to thinking about why ANYONE would ever want to date me for longer than an hour. Hmmm, I thought to myself. I can totally understand why guys in a bar would buy me a drink and throw casual conversation my way in an effort to bed me, but date me? Well, now that's a mystery. If i were of the opposite sex I would expect a girlfriend who, say, cooks awesome dinners, and shaves her legs daily, while always remaining quite the lady. But no. Not I. So, to get to the bottom of this mystery, I made a pro/con list. And here's what I got:

1) Con: I don't cook, clean, or do laundry. Domesticity is just not my bag.

It's true I'm afraid. I HATE the thought of operating any devices in my kitchen other than my microwave and my coffee maker. If it were socially acceptable, I would live in a house that doesnt even have a kitchen. Truth be told, I think it'd be a better use of space if it were converted into a closet. But that's me.

2) Pro: I can party and handle my shit. I'm not one of those girls you'll find slumped over a toilet in a bar come last call. No, sir. I've got class. I can go round for round with the best of 'em. And better yet, I'll still manage to get to work on time the next day. Maybe even the gym too. I am all about raging my little face off, but i know how to balance it. Work hard, play hard.

3) Con: I'm moody, neurotic, and a little overwhelming---all rolled into one. I have days when I'm up, down, left, right, and everywhere in between. Boring, I am not. I love to be spontaneous and my big-ass mouth has a penchant for getting me into trouble. I call 'em like I see 'em. Even if it lands me in deep shit (which, more often than not, does). Don't like your boob job? I'll let ya know. Perhaps its a good thing: With me, you'll never have to wonder. I have no fear of speaking me mind.

4) Pro: I've got spunk. Yup, opinions flow through my veins like oxygenated blood. I am pretty sure that I'm genetically encoded to be outspoken. I'm confident that someday scientists will discover a gene on the 21st chromosome for: outrageous, and if I'm lucky, they'll name it after me. I drink vodka and spit fire.

5) Con: I can be very self-centered. Anyone who has shared a meal with me knows...that last bite on our plate--consider it MINE! Don't get me wrong, I love to share and I'm all about the koom-by-yah, but in the words of my idol: "Sometimes I'm a superbitch." And if you're fucking with something that's near and dear to me (like say, shrimp) I'm gunning for the last morsel.

6) Pro: When I love ya, I'll give you my left arm. I can be loyal to a fault. I will lie, cheat, and throw blows for those I love. Unless I'm fighting with someone I love, in which case I'm still probably too stubborn to back down, but give me an hour---I'll cool down and come around. I always do.

6) Con: I'm obsessive. I know it sounds crazy, but I love to kick my own ass. Yup, self-torture (the gym) is right up my alley. The more it hurts, the harder I go. Could it be? Am I a...sadist?

7) Pro: I dont quit. I'm not a quitter. I don't care what it is, determination is like my crack. I will try, and try, and try until I freakin get it. Learning to ride a two-wheel bike? I've got the scarred knees to prove it. Running a half marathon? Victory T-shirt is in my (dirty) laundry. When I set my mind to it, I'm stubborn as shit. And if seeing you happy is my goal, rest assured I won't stop until I get it.

8) pro?/con? I'm an artist. I think deep, dream big, and color outside the lines. I give good love and I demand it. I party like a man and fuck like a woman (sorry mom).

Ok, so what do you think? Want to date me? It ain't easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is... right?

Confessions..

Ok, so like any good catholic, I had a reckoning moment where shame overcame my senses and propelled me into full-on confession mode, so here it is:

I totally love MILEY CYRUS. Yes, I am a 23 year old college graduate who is completely stoked on teeny bopper pop music. However, not ALL teeny bopper music floats my boat, just hers...and maybe Taylor Swift. Maybe. I gotta be honest, I'm not the Miley fan who passively gets happy when her song comes on the radio. No. I full on download (and PURCHASE) her songs from itunes, bump it at volume setting 32, and unabashedly sing along to it. Who can resist her catchy hooks, or name dropping shout-outs (Britney Spears? Jay-Z anyone?). I mean, here is this sixteen year old mini-mogul who has her own TV show, donates thousands of dollars to charity, and still manages to make my semi-adult heart flutter? I'm in love. Wait, there's more. I think my love for Miley hit an all time high today as I was lapping up the pages of Vogue and came across an article detailing her latest fashion foray. According to the style Bible, she is collaborating with BCBG to design a line for Wal-mart. The intention is to create an affordable fashion accessible to the masses. And she's an equal opportunist? What doesn't the woman do? I don't know about you, but I'm saying right now: Miley for President. Ok, maybe that's a little much. I'll have to investigate her foreign policy and get back to you on that one. But seriously, Miley is the shit. She rocks the house. and she can't even buy lottery tickets! (Not like winning the lottery would actually make a difference to her, but that's beside the point). She's sixteen, for crying out loud. I don't know about you, but my rap sheet at age sixteen wasn't nearly impressive as hers. At sixteen, I'm pretty sure I was drawing hearts on my math notebook and planning my next trip to the Cerritos mall. Cool. Now, gentleman, I know that many of you would deny listening to her songs as if they're some sort of STD. But really though? You like her jams. I know you do. Unfortunately for you, fessing up to listening, much less LIKING Miley Cyrus would be practically signing up to be socially neutered. So I understand your hesitation. I can only imagine how well it would go over if you displayed your Miley passion at the local sports bar during happy hour. You may as well hand over your nuts right then and there. But have no fear, I can keep your secret safe (And I won't even threaten to castrate you either). So, here it is, I'm coming out of the closet and revealing my true nature as a Miley fan. I said it, now feel free to heckle the shit out of me. But don't be surprised if put on my headphones and blare Miley to tune you out. Tootles.

Humility is Hot

When you think of humility, the image that probably comes to mind is likely that of Mother Teresa, or some other saintly religious figure. If you're lucky, one of your friends comes to mind. But for most of us, humility is another virtue that gets tossed into the, "ahhh, isn't that nice" category. Humility really is quite simple on paper, it doesnt take cunning wit or clever genius, but why is it so difficult in practice? Today, I met a rather hot girl (who stereotypically tend to be stick-up-their-ass bimbos), but upon conversing came to realize she was totally cool. Now, I have to wonder did her rockin bod and flat-iron perfect hair make her hot, or did her laid-back, girl-next-door attitude amp up her sex appeal? (No, I'm not a lesbo--but I've got nothing against it. No on prop 8). Well, to answer this question I have to replay my interaction with her and properly over-analyze our conversational small talk. It started out with (in typical female fashion) some good old eaves dropping. Upon her (polite) interruption during my "Sherlock Homes" investigation of new Acne products at the drug store, she inquired my thoughts of a particular skin care product. Looking at her flawless skin I couldn't help but roll my intellectual thoughts and label her a hypochodriatic nit-wit. I mean, here is this Giselle-esque broad with skin practically GLOWING, asking me what I thought about acutane. Huh? That's like an anorexic woman, asking her doctor for phen-phen. What the hell? Reluctantly, I told her about my love-to-hate cystic acne, to which she SHOCKINGLY admitted to having as well. Hold the phone, sister. No WAY do you have mega-bacteria lurking beneath the microscopic skin molecules, you call "pores". But she did. She could even spout off the the prescription meds she'd been on (this girl, new her stuff). Striking as it may seem, this walking Heidi Klum imposter wasn't as perfect as I'd assumed...and even more shockingly, wasn't afraid to admit to such. This got me thinking. Why are so many of us reluctant to extend our the branch of our human side? Why do we fear admitting our imperfections, if they have the potential to make us more likeable? Based on my experience, I saw first-hand how the admission of your own flaws can impact the way others perceive and subsequently respond to you. Maybe we've got it all wrong. Perhaps, showcasing only our best, shiny sides in order to have other people subconsciously compare themselves and shrink in cowering comparison, ISN'T the way to knock their socks off. Maybe, the real kicker is when when we can take a compliment and proceed to act and respond humbly--illuminating that we truly are human beings, flaws and all. Now, that's HOT!

Gym Rats

While some people lightly refer to these sweathouse-toture chambers as "health clubs" I prefer to cut the shit and call it like I see 'em. It's no secret that the gym is a place of obligatory attendance. When faced with the question: Would I rather go home and lazily plop down on the couch and waste my afternoon reading, or high tail it to the gym to sweat my ass off and run 6 grueling miles--the answer is pretty obvious. So, I kind it somewhat facetious that someone would say, "oh, working out for 3.5 hours is fun for me, I enjoy it!" (Smile!!). Liar. I call bullshit. There happens to be a smug little Asian girl who religiously works out for hours on end and wears the SAME thing EVERY day. Upon applauding her dedication, her phony reply of claiming to "prefer" the gym, only made me hate her more. I mean, come on, be honest--it sucks. Running for an hour while your boobs are pancaked into a sports bra and sweat pours down your forehead (ruining a completely perfect blow-out), totally blows. Yes, there are things you can do to negate the torture of exercise such as read a magazine or listen to your ipod. sure, but those can only distract your mind for so long, that is, until the bitching and moaning coming from your aching body begs for it to be over. And this woman claims to "enjoy it"...sure.right. She works out like a banche and she can't even have ONE slightly normal human quality: empathy? Let's be real, we all probably hate her anyways because day in and day out, she does what I can't....and then she can't even have the human decency to sympathize with me? Bitch. I want to like her, I do. I want to appreciate her efforts, again, I do! But not with her attitude. That phony line of crap doesn't fool me. No, it sure doesn't...BUT what it does do is force me into ultra competitive mode so that I, too, can look pleasant and amicable while I beat her ass of the treadmill. If she thinks its all rainbows and lollipops, damn right I'm going to give her a run for her money and sprint right next to her. Yup, fake it 'till ya make it sister!

costco

Now don't get me wrong here, I am a major fan of the ginormous amounts of food you can get at wholesale prices (totaly deal!)..but i am certainly NOT a fan of the hostility surrounding the asile-ladden sample carts. We've all been there. Cruising up and down the aisles of the giant warehouse, when parked conveniently next to a promotional food a small sample cart appears, usually backed by a gray-haired old lady sporting a hair net. She's probably even wearing an apron with the appropriate costco name tag, reading "Betty". There she stands dolling out delicious mini-bites in an effort to lure customers into tossing the item into their carts for purchase. This sounds innocent enough right? Well it is...until it isn't. Innocence is suddenly lost when voracious shoppers close in and swoop down on the tiny samples, like saber-tooth tigers grouping the meat off a dying gazelle in an African jungle. You get the picture.

Seriously, I kid you not, I have seen grown adults not-so-tactfully meander their way in front of patient people in an effort to seize a freebie. Now its one thing when you see a kid clad in his soccer uniform do it. The kid's 12, he's hungry, and for all intents and purposes has little to no clue of (declining) social norms. But it is a whole nother story when it's a 50 year old lady wearing elastic-waist band pants and a wannabe Lakers jersey. Hell, even if it's a 30 year old in a collared shirt with high heels on! STILL RUDE! Not to be condescending here, but for reals? You're going to sidestep your dignity and manners and barge into people to score a sample? Wow. Costco membership is not a weekend buffet. This isn't China, and if you're shopping for costco sized foods, chances are you're not starving. No, just greedy (and/or) stingy. Look cheapskates, pass up the freebie and save your dignity. Ya look ridiculous! And God forbid it's ME that your big ass bumps out of the way for a sample, because when I see you in the check out line, revenge is mine bitch! Another quip? When these foodies bombard the sample cart they totally ditch their basket, leaving their groceries, purse, and, um, CHILD completely unattended. Where are the purse snatchers when you need them? Oh, probably racing to the next sample cart. Figures.