This might ramble and be weird. It might not. I have no idea. It'll be a mildly edited stream of conciousness most likely.
Not sure what I'm doing here or why. But it almost feels necessary.
There are things about myelf that I'd like to make better. I mean, there's the obvious weight problem. But that's like picking the low-hanging fruit. I plan to make this a little more in-depth, and maybe I learn something from it. I'll even do this as a list, for Steph's benefit.
1. I'm hyper-critical of myself. This causes most of my issues, I think. There are many things that I just feel are pre-destined for failure, so they're never attempted in the first place.
2. I allow things that aren't big issues to become larger issues and much more important in my mind. I'm not sure why I do this. The only thing I can think is that I try so hard to see all options and outcomes and weigh them against each other that it allows me hypothesize much more expanded situations. Not sure that makes sense. Honestly, I don't even really think that trying to see all the facets of something is a bad thing, but perhaps getting focused on minutiae in the problem is paralyzing. It's one thing to see all sides, it's another to be crushed by them.
Ok, number 2 was waaay deeper than I expected when I started it. This is going well.
3. I so badly want to be creative, but number 1 hamstrings me. Often. So instead of being creative, I end up striving to replicate the creativity of others. Probably the most creative thing I've done recently is a series of water droplet pictures, and I'm very proud of them, but they're not truly my creation. I took a couple techniques I had seen elsewhere and combined them. So, in my mind, the idea isn't completely mine.
4. I don't finish things that are for myself. I really honestly don't know why. Maybe it's number 1 again. That's really just conjecture.
5. I have willpower issues. I'm a master at giving myself excuses, or making real, though slight ones, bigger.
Now, that all may seem like I'm terribly down on myself or depressed or some other clinical thing...it's really not that. To illustrate that, here's the followup, the things that I like about myself.
1. I'm a good father, I think, and I really want to be that. There isn't really anything more to say about this. There are things that I could do better, and I realize that. I'm always willing to learn more about being a father from other people, and mostly, from my children.
2. I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have I hold very dear. I would do anything for them. They're all awesome people, so I must have done something right to deserve having such kick-ass people I can call my friends. I learn from them, and maybe they learn from me too.
3. The things that I am good at, I'm very good at, I think. That probably sounds arrogant, and it likely is. When I find something I love, I immerse myself in it until I've gotten a level of mastery in it that makes me happy.
4. I like to think I'm pretty intelligent. Again, hubris, right? You're right. I won't apologize for this one.
5. I also think I'm pretty funny. I mean...have you seen the Masterpoo Theatre videos? (shameless self-plug (and wow...out of context, "self-plug" as a term is pretty hilarious))
Ok, I'm going to stop here for now. I'm going to tackle the weight thing (I know, again) in the very near future in this space.
This felt pretty good.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Fun with Chantix
So, yeah. I'm still a smoker.
It's ridiculously expensive. Just...too much. It's time to do something about it. It'd be nice to not depend on something like that too, but I'm not going to lie. The cost is my major reasoning right now. Yes I know all the other reasons to quit. I'm not interested in all the rah-rah stuff. It costs too much, and that's a good enough reason for me.
For anyone that knows me, I have a sticker...thing. I don't like 'em. At all. Or anything sticky touching me. It's my one true phobia, and it can be paralyzing. When the kids come home from school with them...especially if they're on their skin, holy shitsnacks does that fuck me up. Straight up panic attack.
There's a reason I mention this.
If you hook up with the NY Smoker's Quitline, which is a wonderful resource, they'll send you the nicotine patches for free. Awesome, right?
Patches.
That stick to you.
With adhesive.
Yeah. Not a fan. I did try it though. I finished up a pack around 7pm Thursday night, and put the patch on first thing in the morning Friday.
Then I sat on the floor of the bathroom panting hysterically. Not good. At all. I could hear the The Crying Game song in my head. Which doesn't really apply, but I was feeling violated.
I sucked it up though, and headed off to work. I'm not going to lie. It was horrible. The morning especially. I told more than one person that I would punch a baby for a cigarette. (ed. - He actually wouldn't punch a baby, he likes to have fun with shocking statements. Complete toolbag. Well...maybe...if the baby were like some kind of freak half-alien half-sticker baby. Or a complete sticker-baby. That would be ok, right? If you can't tell by now, I don't really have an editor. I'm the editor. And I MAAAAY be trying to come up with a way to justify those horrible statements from Thursday.)
The afternoon, though, my anxiety over having THE MOST HORRIBLE THING THAT COULD BE ON MY BODY actually on my body became worse. Luckily, I had a doctor's appt. at 4. Maybe the doc could help me out here.
She laughed at me.
Not alot, mind you, she did keep professional decorum. But she was laughing on the inside. I could tell by the sly smile. She was rolling internally. I could smell the judgment coming from her. Smelled like a doctor's office, actually. Good to know, for next time I'm being judged.
After she was done judging me, the doctor prescribed Chantix. She gave me the full side-effect rundown. I wasn't really listening. I'm a man (when stickers aren't involved), and men don't get side-effects. All I was thinking was INEEDTOGETTHISDEMONICADHESIVEOFFMYSKINBEFOREIMURDERSOMEONE.
I filled the script at Walgreen's and headed home. First thing through the door, that godforsaken patch was off my back and in the trash. I couldn't even look at it as I put it in the trash. I couldn't see through my hysterical tears as I had to touch it. With my fingers. There probably was squealing too. I've blocked it out.
I took the first dose and did some Chantix research on the intertubes and with some friends. Pretty much as a rule, everything said 'Keep smoking with this shit at first.' Supposedly, it works on some level by making you hate cigarettes. So, ok. Saturday morning I bought a pack and had my second dose of Chantix.
I'm not here to talk about that though. I'm here to talk about dreams. I don't remember my dreams, usually. In fact, I don't really remember any since I was a teenager or so. Of course I dream, everyone does, I just don't remember them.
I remembered last night's dreams. Vividly. It's one of those Chantix side effects, you might actually have more vivid nightmares or some such.
I didn't have nightmares, but these dreams were trippy. There are two in particular that were especially crazy.
Let's start with the less-insane one. I was at work. Kind of. It seemed like work, but everyone was in one room. Programmers, support people, the whole enchilada. We were working at tables. Our systems and stuff were there. I was sitting next to Phil. But, my mouse, and everything I clicked on, was showing on his monitors. It was weird. Plus, he was using a Mac, and saying we, the programmers, were all moving to Macs for development.
Here's where it got weird, though. Once an hour, we all had to switch spots. Like, Chinese fire drill style. I didn't understand that's what was happening though, so I stayed in one spot. I ended up with chicks all around me, some that worked there, but mostly they didn't. And once I looked around, this mixture was all over the room. All women, some that worked there, some that I knew from outside work, and some that I had never met before. I woke up at this point. Laughing.
The more insane one was much shorter. It was a sex dream (Steph...no jiggly gifs, I promise). I have no idea who the chick was that I was fornicating with, I can't even picture her now, I just know that I was really into it. And it was pretty mind-blowing, but every now and then, a friend of mine (you know who you are), would show up, all Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas looking, yelling out stuff like "Really, this is just terrible. Not hot at all." and being really pissed off about the whole thing. Like some super-intense porn director. "HOW CAN TWO ADULTS BE SO BAD AT MAKING THE SEX?!?!". The 'porn director' was sooo intense about it too. I couldn't stop laughing. In the dream. I was laughing. Hilariously.
I woke up from that one still laughing. It was awesome. It has to be the Chantix. I can't think of any other reason. Two dreams in the SAME NIGHT. I'm actually really excited for these dreams. I mean, yeah, not smoking anymore will be awesome, but remembering dreams? Awesome.
It's ridiculously expensive. Just...too much. It's time to do something about it. It'd be nice to not depend on something like that too, but I'm not going to lie. The cost is my major reasoning right now. Yes I know all the other reasons to quit. I'm not interested in all the rah-rah stuff. It costs too much, and that's a good enough reason for me.
For anyone that knows me, I have a sticker...thing. I don't like 'em. At all. Or anything sticky touching me. It's my one true phobia, and it can be paralyzing. When the kids come home from school with them...especially if they're on their skin, holy shitsnacks does that fuck me up. Straight up panic attack.
There's a reason I mention this.
If you hook up with the NY Smoker's Quitline, which is a wonderful resource, they'll send you the nicotine patches for free. Awesome, right?
Patches.
That stick to you.
With adhesive.
Yeah. Not a fan. I did try it though. I finished up a pack around 7pm Thursday night, and put the patch on first thing in the morning Friday.
Then I sat on the floor of the bathroom panting hysterically. Not good. At all. I could hear the The Crying Game song in my head. Which doesn't really apply, but I was feeling violated.
I sucked it up though, and headed off to work. I'm not going to lie. It was horrible. The morning especially. I told more than one person that I would punch a baby for a cigarette. (ed. - He actually wouldn't punch a baby, he likes to have fun with shocking statements. Complete toolbag. Well...maybe...if the baby were like some kind of freak half-alien half-sticker baby. Or a complete sticker-baby. That would be ok, right? If you can't tell by now, I don't really have an editor. I'm the editor. And I MAAAAY be trying to come up with a way to justify those horrible statements from Thursday.)
The afternoon, though, my anxiety over having THE MOST HORRIBLE THING THAT COULD BE ON MY BODY actually on my body became worse. Luckily, I had a doctor's appt. at 4. Maybe the doc could help me out here.
She laughed at me.
Not alot, mind you, she did keep professional decorum. But she was laughing on the inside. I could tell by the sly smile. She was rolling internally. I could smell the judgment coming from her. Smelled like a doctor's office, actually. Good to know, for next time I'm being judged.
After she was done judging me, the doctor prescribed Chantix. She gave me the full side-effect rundown. I wasn't really listening. I'm a man (when stickers aren't involved), and men don't get side-effects. All I was thinking was INEEDTOGETTHISDEMONICADHESIVEOFFMYSKINBEFOREIMURDERSOMEONE.
I filled the script at Walgreen's and headed home. First thing through the door, that godforsaken patch was off my back and in the trash. I couldn't even look at it as I put it in the trash. I couldn't see through my hysterical tears as I had to touch it. With my fingers. There probably was squealing too. I've blocked it out.
I took the first dose and did some Chantix research on the intertubes and with some friends. Pretty much as a rule, everything said 'Keep smoking with this shit at first.' Supposedly, it works on some level by making you hate cigarettes. So, ok. Saturday morning I bought a pack and had my second dose of Chantix.
I'm not here to talk about that though. I'm here to talk about dreams. I don't remember my dreams, usually. In fact, I don't really remember any since I was a teenager or so. Of course I dream, everyone does, I just don't remember them.
I remembered last night's dreams. Vividly. It's one of those Chantix side effects, you might actually have more vivid nightmares or some such.
I didn't have nightmares, but these dreams were trippy. There are two in particular that were especially crazy.
Let's start with the less-insane one. I was at work. Kind of. It seemed like work, but everyone was in one room. Programmers, support people, the whole enchilada. We were working at tables. Our systems and stuff were there. I was sitting next to Phil. But, my mouse, and everything I clicked on, was showing on his monitors. It was weird. Plus, he was using a Mac, and saying we, the programmers, were all moving to Macs for development.
Here's where it got weird, though. Once an hour, we all had to switch spots. Like, Chinese fire drill style. I didn't understand that's what was happening though, so I stayed in one spot. I ended up with chicks all around me, some that worked there, but mostly they didn't. And once I looked around, this mixture was all over the room. All women, some that worked there, some that I knew from outside work, and some that I had never met before. I woke up at this point. Laughing.
The more insane one was much shorter. It was a sex dream (Steph...no jiggly gifs, I promise). I have no idea who the chick was that I was fornicating with, I can't even picture her now, I just know that I was really into it. And it was pretty mind-blowing, but every now and then, a friend of mine (you know who you are), would show up, all Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas looking, yelling out stuff like "Really, this is just terrible. Not hot at all." and being really pissed off about the whole thing. Like some super-intense porn director. "HOW CAN TWO ADULTS BE SO BAD AT MAKING THE SEX?!?!". The 'porn director' was sooo intense about it too. I couldn't stop laughing. In the dream. I was laughing. Hilariously.
I woke up from that one still laughing. It was awesome. It has to be the Chantix. I can't think of any other reason. Two dreams in the SAME NIGHT. I'm actually really excited for these dreams. I mean, yeah, not smoking anymore will be awesome, but remembering dreams? Awesome.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
"The Sound of Flushing"
Hello toilet, my new friend,
I've come to poop in you again,
Because a fe-ce softly creeping,
Came down while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound
of Flushing.
In restless dreams I pooped alone
Wiping with leaves and cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my tushy to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of my old plunger
For my dumper
I missed the sound
of Flushing.
And in the naked light I saw
Your flush handle chrome and long
Your bowl so white and shining
The tank tall and gleaming
Your seat was already down to share
And so I dared,
To fluuuuush
in silence.
Ok...this has gotten weird even for me...
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
A Ten Things List - In Honor of Steph, Who Did a Tapout Thing Today
10. Gravy
So many applications here. Sausage gravy on biscuits. Brown gravy and cheese curds on french fries. Turkey gra-...no...fuck that. Turkey gravy is the Dana Plato of the Diff'rent Strokes Gravy Family. Wrong color, not interesting in any way, and nobody notices when it's not there.
9. Oddly Large Furniture
Not pieces that are obscenely large...just a little slightly too big. My couch for example...the arms on it are just too wide and too high.
8. Stephen Hawking and Malcolm Gladwell Books
7. Bacon.
5. FIIIIIIVE GOLLLLLDENNN TOQUESSS
4. Houseplants.
3. Shatner Doing Anything. Same with Christopher Walken.
2. Jiggly Animated GIFS. Steph...click HERE to bypass this. I know you get all weird.
1. HAHAHHAHA...I GOT STEPH EITHER WAY!
So many applications here. Sausage gravy on biscuits. Brown gravy and cheese curds on french fries. Turkey gra-...no...fuck that. Turkey gravy is the Dana Plato of the Diff'rent Strokes Gravy Family. Wrong color, not interesting in any way, and nobody notices when it's not there.
 |
| Sausage makes anything better. |
 |
| It tastes like happiness and rainbows and unicorn spit. |
 |
| Seriously...this is Dana "Turkey Gravy" Plato...who evidently did Playboy. Who knew? |
9. Oddly Large Furniture
Not pieces that are obscenely large...just a little slightly too big. My couch for example...the arms on it are just too wide and too high.
8. Stephen Hawking and Malcolm Gladwell Books
 |
| Pretty sure Hawking never did Playboy. |
 |
| Gladwell probably hasn't either. |
7. Bacon.
Seriously...I'm not going to explain this. Just examine the following glory:
 |
| Giggity |
6. Yoga Pants
Used judiciously, of course.
 |
| Not like this...of course, shout-out to theChive.com, love that site. |
 |
| Much better. |
5. FIIIIIIVE GOLLLLLDENNN TOQUESSS
4. Houseplants.
3. Shatner Doing Anything. Same with Christopher Walken.
2. Jiggly Animated GIFS. Steph...click HERE to bypass this. I know you get all weird.
1. HAHAHHAHA...I GOT STEPH EITHER WAY!
Friday, July 5, 2013
The Greater Fool
Hang with me here...this might ramble a bit. Well, more than usual, I guess.
The Greater Fool is, simply, the guy everyone wants to know. He's the person that's willing to put himself on the edge of the abyss. The one that makes the choice to put himself into the position to sink or swim, and not let it just happen to him. Through their actions, everyone else gets to see the outcome of the choice and prosper from it or avoid it altogether.
In that previous sentence is my favorite word. Choice. Choice is all that we really have. Everything that we are, everything that we've done, everything that has ever been produced from the engine of human consciousness is derived from choices. I don't believe in accidents. They are the culmination of a series of choices, whether we were cognizant of the choices at the time or not.
The Greater Fool is probably always aware of his choices. Also, likely always willing to stand behind them to take credit or blame. The Greater Fool will always get back up from the failures to push to new trials, and never bask in the glory of successes long enough to miss the next chance to fuck himself over.
They are the best of us. They are the risk-takers. They are the ones that make the choices and know they're being made at the time.
I want to be a Greater Fool. I really do. For so long, I've been the Lesser Fool. The one that knows his choices, and makes them expecting the worst. And almost always getting it, the self-fulfilling prophecy endures. I want to stop justifying my choices. I don't even want to feel the need to justify choice anymore. I just want to choose, and sink or swim with that choice. I don't want to feel snared by the trap of imagined consequence anymore. I just want to fail or succeed, and be in line to make the next choice.
The Greater Fool is, simply, the guy everyone wants to know. He's the person that's willing to put himself on the edge of the abyss. The one that makes the choice to put himself into the position to sink or swim, and not let it just happen to him. Through their actions, everyone else gets to see the outcome of the choice and prosper from it or avoid it altogether.
In that previous sentence is my favorite word. Choice. Choice is all that we really have. Everything that we are, everything that we've done, everything that has ever been produced from the engine of human consciousness is derived from choices. I don't believe in accidents. They are the culmination of a series of choices, whether we were cognizant of the choices at the time or not.
The Greater Fool is probably always aware of his choices. Also, likely always willing to stand behind them to take credit or blame. The Greater Fool will always get back up from the failures to push to new trials, and never bask in the glory of successes long enough to miss the next chance to fuck himself over.
They are the best of us. They are the risk-takers. They are the ones that make the choices and know they're being made at the time.
I want to be a Greater Fool. I really do. For so long, I've been the Lesser Fool. The one that knows his choices, and makes them expecting the worst. And almost always getting it, the self-fulfilling prophecy endures. I want to stop justifying my choices. I don't even want to feel the need to justify choice anymore. I just want to choose, and sink or swim with that choice. I don't want to feel snared by the trap of imagined consequence anymore. I just want to fail or succeed, and be in line to make the next choice.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Beyond Blubberdome: Week...uhh...Blue? I Don't Know. DON'T JUDGE ME, MIKE!
This is a story about love, betrayal, and ascendance.
First, love. Let me tell you about this man I know. Let's call him 'Hason'. Definitely not 'Jason', though. Just get that right out of your head. Anyway, Hason has a great love. It's bacon. And steak. Nachos, cheese, these foodstuffs are all in his little black book. If there was a screenplay, the Oscar scene would go like this:
Meat: [Just sits there longingly on the plate, or stick]
Hason: You are too much for me, Meat, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I WISH I KNEW HOW TO QUIT YOU!
[Definitely not a buttsex scene now...I'm paraphrasing. No cowboy hats, either. I look stupid in those. I mean Hason does. Dammit.]
Next is betrayal. About a month ago, it was time for new sneakers for Hason and the boys. Ok, that whole 'Hason' thing was stupid. About a month ago, it was time for new sneakers for ME and the boys. We shopped around until only I was left. I found a nice pair (I thought at the time anyway) of Filas at some store in the mall. It's like "Famous Footwear" or "Awesome Footwear" or "Arby's". One of those. Anyway, they were relatively cheap and surprisingly comfortable. I purchased them with no hesitation.
Ok, hold on, guitar solo in Stairway To Heaven is about to start...I need to pause for some epic air guitar...
...
...
AND AS WE WIND ON DOWN THE ROAD
... annnnnnd I'm back.
Anyway, so I wore my new Filas for about a month. They started to come unglued in a couple spots on the heel, but the hot glue gun (I'M CRAFTY!) fixed those.
Something else was going on, though. My left knee was getting sore. REALLY sore. Any motion at all irritated it, and working out, doing squats and the like, made it feel loose, like it was slipping side to side.
Not good. Not good at all.
So I took a week off to let it come back, only doing the running, which didn't irritate it at all, and it usually felt better for a little while after. I sat thinking about this one day, did some calendar math in my head.
HOLY SHITSNACKS, MY KNEE STARTED HURTING WITHIN DAYS OF THE GETTING THE FILAS.
So that day, on lunch (about a week ago), I headed over to Dick's *giggle* and went back to an old standby. Asics. Gels, in particular. I've had a pair of these off and on for almost twenty years now. (I'm getting old...I plucked a hair out of my goddamn earlobe the other day. Wtf?) I've always liked them, but usually went with other options based on price. I was going to get a pair no matter what. Lucikly, I hit a bit of a deal at Dick's *hehe*, and was able to snag a pair relatively cheap.
Guess what? It was the Filas. My knee pain was 90% cleared up in 2 days. I still get a twinge sometimes, but it's nothing like before. I guess I'm sticking with Asics for my walkaround shoes from now on. (On a side note, because we haven't had many of these so far ((DON'T JUDGE ME, MIKE!)), I use Brooks Adrenaline GTS for running, and they're downright awesome. Great fat-guy running shoes)
Anyway, like I said, I've still been running, adding runs on lunch to get used to running in some heat. And for anyone that might see me running on lunch, I'm sorry. Yup, I am the walrus. Koo-koo ka fuck you.
Finally, ascendance. I'm still writing that chapter. I've actually had some good luck lately (I can't believe I just wrote that...I'm probably going to get hit by a frozen turd ejected from the ISS that made it through re-entry when I go outside next). I was able to trade in the Bonneville on a 2012 Jeep Liberty, which I like immensely. I had a photo show with some friends at the Seward House, and actually sold a print to a pro photographer, so that's exciting. And somehow...I'm not sure how, I've actually lost a half pound throughout this whole ordeal. So that's nice.
I've also got a plan to continue. I've got a 5k saturday, and already signed up for the Great Race this year, running for a team with Steph and another coworker, Kat, or Kate, or creepy chick that makes lampshades out of cat x-rays. (There's NO WAY I wasn't working that in there. Sorry.)
So, Auntie...GAME ON.
First, love. Let me tell you about this man I know. Let's call him 'Hason'. Definitely not 'Jason', though. Just get that right out of your head. Anyway, Hason has a great love. It's bacon. And steak. Nachos, cheese, these foodstuffs are all in his little black book. If there was a screenplay, the Oscar scene would go like this:
Meat: [Just sits there longingly on the plate, or stick]
Hason: You are too much for me, Meat, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I WISH I KNEW HOW TO QUIT YOU!
[Definitely not a buttsex scene now...I'm paraphrasing. No cowboy hats, either. I look stupid in those. I mean Hason does. Dammit.]
Next is betrayal. About a month ago, it was time for new sneakers for Hason and the boys. Ok, that whole 'Hason' thing was stupid. About a month ago, it was time for new sneakers for ME and the boys. We shopped around until only I was left. I found a nice pair (I thought at the time anyway) of Filas at some store in the mall. It's like "Famous Footwear" or "Awesome Footwear" or "Arby's". One of those. Anyway, they were relatively cheap and surprisingly comfortable. I purchased them with no hesitation.
Ok, hold on, guitar solo in Stairway To Heaven is about to start...I need to pause for some epic air guitar...
...
...
AND AS WE WIND ON DOWN THE ROAD
... annnnnnd I'm back.
Anyway, so I wore my new Filas for about a month. They started to come unglued in a couple spots on the heel, but the hot glue gun (I'M CRAFTY!) fixed those.
Something else was going on, though. My left knee was getting sore. REALLY sore. Any motion at all irritated it, and working out, doing squats and the like, made it feel loose, like it was slipping side to side.
Not good. Not good at all.
So I took a week off to let it come back, only doing the running, which didn't irritate it at all, and it usually felt better for a little while after. I sat thinking about this one day, did some calendar math in my head.
HOLY SHITSNACKS, MY KNEE STARTED HURTING WITHIN DAYS OF THE GETTING THE FILAS.
So that day, on lunch (about a week ago), I headed over to Dick's *giggle* and went back to an old standby. Asics. Gels, in particular. I've had a pair of these off and on for almost twenty years now. (I'm getting old...I plucked a hair out of my goddamn earlobe the other day. Wtf?) I've always liked them, but usually went with other options based on price. I was going to get a pair no matter what. Lucikly, I hit a bit of a deal at Dick's *hehe*, and was able to snag a pair relatively cheap.
Guess what? It was the Filas. My knee pain was 90% cleared up in 2 days. I still get a twinge sometimes, but it's nothing like before. I guess I'm sticking with Asics for my walkaround shoes from now on. (On a side note, because we haven't had many of these so far ((DON'T JUDGE ME, MIKE!)), I use Brooks Adrenaline GTS for running, and they're downright awesome. Great fat-guy running shoes)
Anyway, like I said, I've still been running, adding runs on lunch to get used to running in some heat. And for anyone that might see me running on lunch, I'm sorry. Yup, I am the walrus. Koo-koo ka fuck you.
Finally, ascendance. I'm still writing that chapter. I've actually had some good luck lately (I can't believe I just wrote that...I'm probably going to get hit by a frozen turd ejected from the ISS that made it through re-entry when I go outside next). I was able to trade in the Bonneville on a 2012 Jeep Liberty, which I like immensely. I had a photo show with some friends at the Seward House, and actually sold a print to a pro photographer, so that's exciting. And somehow...I'm not sure how, I've actually lost a half pound throughout this whole ordeal. So that's nice.
I've also got a plan to continue. I've got a 5k saturday, and already signed up for the Great Race this year, running for a team with Steph and another coworker, Kat, or Kate, or creepy chick that makes lampshades out of cat x-rays. (There's NO WAY I wasn't working that in there. Sorry.)
So, Auntie...GAME ON.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Beyond Blubberdome Week 3: Is Puking How Every Workout is Going To End For Me Now?
So, yeah. Evidently I'm still recovering from last week's illness or something. Tuesday's workout only lasted about 2/3 of the way through. I started getting really lightheaded, and almost dropped one of the powerblocks on my head. When that happened, I decided to wrap it up for the night.
Last night, about halfway through, I started getting dizzy...seeing stars somewhat. I tried to push through it, but something was wrong. I was sweating, which is normal, but I was sweating profusely. It was exploding off my body. So I cut it off. Sat on the back deck for a couple minutes, then ran upstairs to the bathroom and provided some vomit swatches for the walls. "Regurgitated Tuna Sandwich Grey" is not an attractive color choice for a bathroom paint. Just fyi.
I don't have any idea what's going on here. If I have this happening during next week's workouts, I'm probably going to go see my doctor. This is VERY new to me. I mean...I've puked from exertion before, especially after runs...but this was different. My body was just, I don't know, rejecting the exercise? I was supposed to run this morning, but was actually scared to do it. I didn't want that feeling to come over me again 2 miles from the house.
Anyway, I did actually lose a pound this week, so there's that.
I wish I had something more interesting to follow up with. I really don't. This is stressing me a little. Put that together with Steph's trials over the last week, and neither one of us is really "winning" at this point. I will say though, that Steph just plain seems much more energetic since this has started. It's been noticeable. So if she quits now, I'm going to make a point out of farting in her car at least once a day.
Last night, about halfway through, I started getting dizzy...seeing stars somewhat. I tried to push through it, but something was wrong. I was sweating, which is normal, but I was sweating profusely. It was exploding off my body. So I cut it off. Sat on the back deck for a couple minutes, then ran upstairs to the bathroom and provided some vomit swatches for the walls. "Regurgitated Tuna Sandwich Grey" is not an attractive color choice for a bathroom paint. Just fyi.
I don't have any idea what's going on here. If I have this happening during next week's workouts, I'm probably going to go see my doctor. This is VERY new to me. I mean...I've puked from exertion before, especially after runs...but this was different. My body was just, I don't know, rejecting the exercise? I was supposed to run this morning, but was actually scared to do it. I didn't want that feeling to come over me again 2 miles from the house.
Anyway, I did actually lose a pound this week, so there's that.
I wish I had something more interesting to follow up with. I really don't. This is stressing me a little. Put that together with Steph's trials over the last week, and neither one of us is really "winning" at this point. I will say though, that Steph just plain seems much more energetic since this has started. It's been noticeable. So if she quits now, I'm going to make a point out of farting in her car at least once a day.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Beyond Blubberdome Week 2: Down Goes Butterball
This was actually a rough week for me. Didn't get much sleep, had a pretty nasty fever one night...yadda yadda. I had to skip a workout on Tuesday, and pushed Thursday's to Friday.
Now, that being said, I really didn't eat much, as I was feeling like poop, and was never hungry, so that was probably mitigating. Yesterday was weigh-in day, and I was sweating it a little.
For the week, I was down 2.4 pounds, and for the contest, I'm down 2.3% overall.
Which means...I'm still solidly in the lead. Butterball is down 1.25 since last week, and 1.5% for the contest overall. Good results, but NOT GOOD ENOUGH, BUTTERBALL!!!
Now, that being said, I really didn't eat much, as I was feeling like poop, and was never hungry, so that was probably mitigating. Yesterday was weigh-in day, and I was sweating it a little.
For the week, I was down 2.4 pounds, and for the contest, I'm down 2.3% overall.
Which means...I'm still solidly in the lead. Butterball is down 1.25 since last week, and 1.5% for the contest overall. Good results, but NOT GOOD ENOUGH, BUTTERBALL!!!
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Running Into Headwind, And Starting Chalean Week 2
I was planning on running Saturday.
Saturday ended up being kinda cold. I had a rather late night the night before, too (that's a story for another time...a good one...).
Also, my stomach was a little...weird.
So Saturday ended up being quite the lazy day. Don't like it? Bite me.
Anyway, I decided to make today different. I was up bright and early and headed to Montezuma for some bird pics. Windy...not much to shoot. Struck out there. Headed over to Mud Lock...struck out there too. Headed to Lewis's for my normal Sunday morning breakfast, two slices of French Toast, well done, with a side of meat, sausage today. I called the Colonel to see if he wanted to enjoy some breakfast, but he was going to church. I'll never call him again. He's dead to me. (just checking to see if you're reading, Jeff)
So, I headed back home, did some digesting/picking up, and went for a run. Decided to to do a full 5k length. But...that wind. Good gravy. Running against that wind was tiring. And it seemed, after the initial leg down Genessee Street, that IT WAS ALWAYS IN MY GODDAMN FACE. ALWAYS. IN MY FACE. ALWAYS.
Did I make that clear? It was in my face no matter if I was running north, south, east or west. It took me over 40 minutes to run 5k. But so what, I did it anyway.
Once home, I had a turkey sandwich with some chocolate milk, and ran out to grab a few groceries that I had forgotten.
That errand complete, I got down to Burn Circuit 1, the first workout of week 2, and it went REALLY well. I might actually start doing this run/workout thing on the same days. I probably won't. Or...well...maybe do 5k lengths on the non-workout days, at least 2 a week, and do shorter, faster ones on workout days. Like a mile, but a fast mile. Or fartleks. HAHAHAHA...fartleks.
Anyway, I'll keep this post free of trash-talk. Steph, the poor dear, has a little boo-boo, so had to take today off. Poor widdle Stephie. Stephie and her weak female genes. You'll never be able to lose weight like a man, Butterball. It's SCIENCE. So I feel bad for her, and won't do any trash-talking.
Saturday ended up being kinda cold. I had a rather late night the night before, too (that's a story for another time...a good one...).
Also, my stomach was a little...weird.
So Saturday ended up being quite the lazy day. Don't like it? Bite me.
Anyway, I decided to make today different. I was up bright and early and headed to Montezuma for some bird pics. Windy...not much to shoot. Struck out there. Headed over to Mud Lock...struck out there too. Headed to Lewis's for my normal Sunday morning breakfast, two slices of French Toast, well done, with a side of meat, sausage today. I called the Colonel to see if he wanted to enjoy some breakfast, but he was going to church. I'll never call him again. He's dead to me. (just checking to see if you're reading, Jeff)
So, I headed back home, did some digesting/picking up, and went for a run. Decided to to do a full 5k length. But...that wind. Good gravy. Running against that wind was tiring. And it seemed, after the initial leg down Genessee Street, that IT WAS ALWAYS IN MY GODDAMN FACE. ALWAYS. IN MY FACE. ALWAYS.
 |
| Eff-you, wind. |
Did I make that clear? It was in my face no matter if I was running north, south, east or west. It took me over 40 minutes to run 5k. But so what, I did it anyway.
Once home, I had a turkey sandwich with some chocolate milk, and ran out to grab a few groceries that I had forgotten.
That errand complete, I got down to Burn Circuit 1, the first workout of week 2, and it went REALLY well. I might actually start doing this run/workout thing on the same days. I probably won't. Or...well...maybe do 5k lengths on the non-workout days, at least 2 a week, and do shorter, faster ones on workout days. Like a mile, but a fast mile. Or fartleks. HAHAHAHA...fartleks.
Anyway, I'll keep this post free of trash-talk. Steph, the poor dear, has a little boo-boo, so had to take today off. Poor widdle Stephie. Stephie and her weak female genes. You'll never be able to lose weight like a man, Butterball. It's SCIENCE. So I feel bad for her, and won't do any trash-talking.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Feasting on the Bones of Team Butterball
Run AND Burn Circuit 3.
That's right, Steph. Your ass is going down. (Not in the biblical sense, of course)
Conrad is home this week for spring break from school. This morning he asked me if he could go on a run with me. I enthusiastically said "Dude, awesome. I'll take the afternoon off." Even though I wouldn't normally run on a weight workout day, I've been asking him to take runs with me for over a year now, so I couldn't pass up the chance.
So I took the afternoon off and headed home. Conrad and I needed to run an errand, so I let him pick lunch. Unfortunately, he chose Denny's, against my better judgement. To make it even worse, he had pancakes. I tried telling him how much that would suck during the run, but he was pretty jacked to have pancakes. I went with this avocado BLT, which replaced the tomato with avocado. It would have been better with both, but whatever.
We got home, decided to let some digestion happen. So we fired up the arcade cabinet and had some epic 80's arcade battles. Frogger, Tron, Galaga, Ms. PacMan, Life Force, and Joust. Joust for us was pretty kick-ass actually, had a great time with that one.
After about 45 minutes, we headed out for our run. Just took it easy, letting him set the pace and take walk breaks when he needed them. Our final total was 1.47 miles, with a sprint up the final hill. It was great to get out and run on such an extremely nice day like this, and to have him with me made it even more fun.
Once we got back to the house, my eleven year old thespian got very melodramatic about taking a cold shower. But I got down to some more business. Burn Circuit 3. A very heavy shoulders/legs workout, which, coming about 10 minutes after our run was doubly tough. I had to cut a couple exercises short, one because my feet were starting to get sore, so I took my shoes off. That made it very hard to finish the lunges completely, and secondly, I was dead ass tired. But I made it through.
Which brings me to the educational portion of my message.
Post workout fuel.
There are soooo many post-workout supplements/drinks, etc, out there. It's a huge industry. Mike (who is SOLIDLY BEHIND TEAM TEMPORARILY FAT JASON...again, not in the biblical sense) mentioned that chocolate milk was amazing after workouts.
And it is. It's just a killer pick-me-up. Let me borrow from Fitness Magazine: "Compared to plain milk, water, or most sports drinks, it has double the carbohydrate and protein content, perfect for replenishing tired muscles. Its high water content replaces fluids lost as sweat, preventing dehydration. Plus it packs a nutritional bonus of calcium, and includes just a little sodium and sugar -- additives that help recovering athletes retain water and regain energy."
They are absolutely right. I had about 8 ounces of chocolate milk after finishing the workout. It was glorious. Really picks you right back up.
So there you go. SUCK IT, BUTTERBALL (again, not in the biblical sense)
That's right, Steph. Your ass is going down. (Not in the biblical sense, of course)
Conrad is home this week for spring break from school. This morning he asked me if he could go on a run with me. I enthusiastically said "Dude, awesome. I'll take the afternoon off." Even though I wouldn't normally run on a weight workout day, I've been asking him to take runs with me for over a year now, so I couldn't pass up the chance.
So I took the afternoon off and headed home. Conrad and I needed to run an errand, so I let him pick lunch. Unfortunately, he chose Denny's, against my better judgement. To make it even worse, he had pancakes. I tried telling him how much that would suck during the run, but he was pretty jacked to have pancakes. I went with this avocado BLT, which replaced the tomato with avocado. It would have been better with both, but whatever.
We got home, decided to let some digestion happen. So we fired up the arcade cabinet and had some epic 80's arcade battles. Frogger, Tron, Galaga, Ms. PacMan, Life Force, and Joust. Joust for us was pretty kick-ass actually, had a great time with that one.
After about 45 minutes, we headed out for our run. Just took it easy, letting him set the pace and take walk breaks when he needed them. Our final total was 1.47 miles, with a sprint up the final hill. It was great to get out and run on such an extremely nice day like this, and to have him with me made it even more fun.
Once we got back to the house, my eleven year old thespian got very melodramatic about taking a cold shower. But I got down to some more business. Burn Circuit 3. A very heavy shoulders/legs workout, which, coming about 10 minutes after our run was doubly tough. I had to cut a couple exercises short, one because my feet were starting to get sore, so I took my shoes off. That made it very hard to finish the lunges completely, and secondly, I was dead ass tired. But I made it through.
Which brings me to the educational portion of my message.
Post workout fuel.
There are soooo many post-workout supplements/drinks, etc, out there. It's a huge industry. Mike (who is SOLIDLY BEHIND TEAM TEMPORARILY FAT JASON...again, not in the biblical sense) mentioned that chocolate milk was amazing after workouts.
And it is. It's just a killer pick-me-up. Let me borrow from Fitness Magazine: "Compared to plain milk, water, or most sports drinks, it has double the carbohydrate and protein content, perfect for replenishing tired muscles. Its high water content replaces fluids lost as sweat, preventing dehydration. Plus it packs a nutritional bonus of calcium, and includes just a little sodium and sugar -- additives that help recovering athletes retain water and regain energy."
They are absolutely right. I had about 8 ounces of chocolate milk after finishing the workout. It was glorious. Really picks you right back up.
So there you go. SUCK IT, BUTTERBALL (again, not in the biblical sense)
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