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August 28, 2007
You guessed it, I was delayed
For those of you who aren't in the know, today is my 3 year anniversary with my BooBoo. To celebrate, he whisked me away to a Manor house in Quebec. Of course, every zonino! has an equal and opposite oninoz!, and our flight up to Canada was delayed 3.5 hours.
A few positive things came about by this experience. Firstly, I got to witness a family welcoming home a soldier. You know that opening dialog in "Love, Actually" where they talk about how Heathrow Airport shows that love is actually all around (see this movie if you haven't already, it's really wonderful), seeing a family welcoming home their loved one is enough to invoke tears, even from this cynic. Also, I applaud the individual at EWR who allowed a family to the gate in order to welcome said soldier. I'm glad there's some folks still around with some common sense.
Anyhoo, The place was beautiful, and we had a wonderful time (No Robyn, we're NOT engaged). Tonight, because it's anniversary proper, I'm taking him on a glass bottomed boat around the Hudson. If we're delayed 3 hours, I'll just swim it myself and pull him along with me.
If for some reason it hasn't occured to you to get a BooBoo who whisks you away to castles because he knows you're a freak who has an obsession with swords, I highly recommend getting one (a booboo, not a sword obsession). But not mine, you can't have mine!
Posted by lysa at 9:30 AM | Comments (8)
August 24, 2007
No amount of endorphins are enough to make me wear this dress
I'm sorry that the picture is blurry, but I was shaking with uncontrollable confusion as to what woman would ever wear this. Is this dress trying to take over the seamstresses union? Are these bust, waist, neck and hip measurements there for our convenience?
Is it a dieting aid? Is there a shortage of tape measures that I am unaware of?
Fashion confounds me.
Posted by lysa at 9:57 AM | Comments (3)
August 23, 2007
Don't Let Your Endorphins Dress You
Today I accomplished the impossible. I woke up early and went to the gym. This is my third week now of doing this whole gym thing, and so far, while I don't see any results, it's OK. I don't love it, I'd be more than happy to not go, but if I have any intentions of being a hot mom, I should probably keep this up, and get knocked up, or something.
Anyhoo, I set my alarm 45 minutes earlier than usual, and when it went off I was exhausted. I considered: "Self, am i really any more exhausted then when I usually wake up?" Turns out I am just as sleepy at 7:00am as when I wake up at 7:45am, so, off to the gym I went.
My instructions from my personal trainer were to do 30 minutes of intense cardio 3x this week. I needed some clarification on intense, for me, climbing the stairs can be an intense experience. He said I need to seriously sweat. Finally, a goal I can accomplish.
I hopped on the treadmill and got ready for a grueling 10 minutes. 10 minutes on that thing is enough to make me seriously sweat. I set it for 4.5 and was on my way. While I was predictably bored out of my mind at the 10 minute mark, I wasn't all that sweaty, and I decided to go 5 more minutes at 5.0. By that point the clock display 7:38 and I knew I had to do 2 minutes more. I spent 17 minutes on that thing and went a whopping 1.35 miles.
I know, that's what most people call pathetic, but for me, it's a serious accomplishment. I've never run a mile straight, and I think I figured out why I was able to do it this morning. Here is what I did differently, it may help.
1. Stop looking at those damn red/orange/green dots that signify the distance you've been running. For me, the goals come too quickly that way. Once the dots go around the circle once, I've hit a goal, and then I want to stop. Assuming I make it past 1/4 mile, when it gets to a half mile, I really feel accomplished, and I start walking. Once i slow down, I'm not getting revved up again.
2. Jog for minutes, not miles. My goal has always been to jog x number of mile(s). It worked out significantly better when I ditched that and jogged for 5 minutes at a time. I checked in with myself.... Was I out of breath? Was I in pain? The only question I answered yes to was, Am I bored and lazy? Yes. But I think even I could handle 5 more minutes.
3. Start out with a speed that's .5 lower than what you think you can do. When you reach your halfway point, kick it up some. My body was starting to want to jog faster, and it was happy at the opportunity to move a little.
Those were my lessons for the day.
After I got out of the shower and went to get dressed, I was feeling pretty honking good about my accomplishments. I put on a bright red shirt, and a new black mini.
Now that my endorphins have eased up a little bit, I feel like I could be mistaken for a prostitute.
Let this be a warning to you all.
* Photo borrowed from istockphoto.com
Posted by lysa at 9:07 AM | Comments (3)
August 21, 2007
In case you were wondering
how i spend my Tuesday nights since Veronica Mars, House and Friday Night Lights (damn I miss Riggins) are no longer broadcasting new epiodes (for now), you can put that over-active imagination at rest. I'm spending some quality couple time on our couch, looking for new entertainment centers and playing..
If you just didn't gasp in excitement and get a little tingly down south, this is not the blog for you.
I finaly found a C64 emulator for the worlds greatest game.
You want a taste of what you're missing, big boy? Here you are.
In other news, this mysterious thumb pain I have is the result of my child-sized digits being hypermobile. The result of this deformity?
Posted by lysa at 9:32 PM | Comments (4)
August 14, 2007
Anyone else know that Mr. Ed was a Zebra?
I don't know why this fact amongst all others has my panties in a twist. What else have those lying television moguls been lying about?
Was lassie an otter, Rin Tin Tin an overgrown fox?
Was Babe nothing more than an baby elephant?
Jaws a fluffy kitten?
I shudder to think that Flipper could have been anything other than a dolphin.
This only goes to prove that models on TV could be outstrecthed lemers, decorated and coiffed.
That's my story. I'm getting a cupcake.
Posted by lysa at 2:38 PM | Comments (4)
Daily Dose of Langston
Still Here
been scared and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me,
Sun has baked me,
Looks like between 'em they done
Tried to make me
Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
But I don't care!
I'm still here!
Posted by lysa at 12:14 PM | Comments (0)
August 9, 2007
Tagged
I feel like I've already done this. Hear that? That's *I* language. I feel like it's silly to go and look for 8 more things to tell you about me. But... but but but.. I adore Scott or Patrick, or Steve, whatever his name is.
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and that they should read your blog.
1. I am a habitual ring twirler. Since High School I've had a silver ring on my right thumb and have been twirling it on and off my finger since the day I got it. This has led to me needing to replace said ring 3 times. Once, as I wildly gestured my hand walking down the street and my friend stepped on it as it hit the concrete. Once again, gesturing wildly in a bar, the ring flew across the bar and even though I went back the next day, it was no where to be found. The third time I lost my ring I was on Lake George. Yes. I was actually on the lake. I've have the same ring since that fateful, wet day.
2. Speaking of, I was once lost on Lake George for 3 hours. I went out on a wave runner and thought it would be fun to go around that little island a ways off the beach. That "little island" was 3 miles long, and 6 miles wide. I had no money, no phone, no silver ring because it fell in the water and had to convince a kind, lake gas station attendant to please refill my tank. Eventually I found a boat who was kind enough to get me back to shore. When I got back to my friends they said they had the lake police and the local rescue departments looking for me. I was fine, thankfully, but sunburnt beyond belief.
3. I hate. Hate, hate, hate the smell of oranges. Going into Bath & Body works is a torture amongst tortures. This sucks because B&BW also has one of the sweetest smelling shampoos, Soyflower, which those bastards discontinued.
4. I am immensely proud that there are not 8 new things that my friends will ever learn about me. I am an open book to the people I love. Someone reading this will nod slowly and say "yeah, I knew that"
5. I cry when fathers die in movies, plays, books or TV shows. It doesn't matter if I like the character, how long they've been in the series, or if I am attached to them in any way. Me, the girl who can rarely be seen shedding a tear, sobs during the movie Armageddon.
6. I feel inadequate around other women.
7. The best advice I have ever received are tidbits that have shaped my development. These gems have come from my ex's mother, my brother, Dr. Seuss, and a teacher. They said, respectively:
a. Most women take an average piece of shit and treat them as gods.
b. Don't say you can't when the answer is I don't know how. Ask for help or figure it out. There is no can't.
c. Do what you want and say what you feel, because those who matter won't mind, and those who mind don't matter.
d. Fuck 'em. Take it from where it's coming from, and fuck 'em.
8. My mother has said two things in my lifetime that have been somewhat compliments. Someone had complimented her on how I "turned out". She said, "don't thank me, she did it all by herself." The second was when I was going to delivery my father's eulogy, and the Rabbi wasn't going to allow it. My mother looked him square in the eyes and said "Yeah, you try to stop her." I gave the eulogy.
I'm not a big blogger, I don't have 7 people, so I'll give you one excellent, excellent writer.
Shameless, Solipsistic and Narcissistic
Posted by lysa at 4:55 PM | Comments (5)
August 7, 2007
Thank you Larry Woods
On August 6th, something wonderful happened and while I'm sure it's been covered and blogged by a bunch of people more read than I am, I still feel the need to share this with the non New York crowd.
But first, a prequel. Last night my fella was reading me a very familiar blog topic:
adults who take little kids to loud, violent movies. There's nothing more on this topic I can say that these folks haven't. In short, it's rude, inconsiderate, abusive to the children and it seriously impacts your movie going experience. Don't you ever wish someone would be braver than you and tell these parents exactly what should be said?
It is for this reason, that I feel that Larry Woods should be congratulated for standing up to Christian Custis.
Larry Woods is a bus driver who whisterpooped Custis for not giving up his seat to a patron with a cane. Of course, much like my take on the legality of stun guns in this city, the NYPD disagrees, and has arrested Mr. Woods.
I don't support violence, and I don't believe that it is the answer to the world's problems. I don't even believe it's the answer to the smallest problems, but there has always been some form of de facto societal control taking place in society, and Mr. Woods was just doing his part. I don't know how hard he hit him, and I don't know the damage he inflicted. It's quite possible that Mr. Woods went way overboard in his discipline of Mr. Custis, but it is my hope that he just delivered a grandfatherly smack-upside-the-head.
People have become so frightened to instruct, teach, criticize, for fear that the criticized will become violent. This form of informal policing is overdue and for this citizen, missed.
Maybe we should keep the violence down to a minimum, but surely can take pictures of these freaks and humiliate them publicly.
Posted by lysa at 2:32 PM | Comments (1)
August 3, 2007
Girls Gone Bad University
Once again, figleaves has presented me with some blog fodder.
When I first went away to college, I had my jeans, some fuzzy shirts and a pair of sneakers. I considered this to be the extent of what I needed, clothing wise. On that one odd occassion where I needed a dress, I borrowed one. In school, I had more computer equiptment than clothing and this was fine by me. My college essentials included access to e-mail so I can write my friends, and a visit by a buddy who would bring me pizza and baked ziti a few times a month. New Paltz, NY knows jack about Italian food.
I get e-mails from figleaves daily, as they are aware of my quest to find a bra that reduces me down to a b-cup. So far, this is a futile mission, and they keep trying to get me to buy DD push-up bras.
The subject of this e-mail was "Back to school essentials plus we pay you for delivery at figleaves.com"
Figleaves and myself have some very different ideas about what college essentials are.
Essentials??
besides, that model is way too old to be going back to school, unless of course, it's the BlowJob Academy.
Posted by lysa at 1:47 PM | Comments (6)
August 2, 2007
Chang-Chang, Changidy Chang Shoo-Bop?
Something strange happened to me last night. I was in bed, getting in some late night tele. I channel surfed a bit, and ended up watching the last 10 minutes of Grease.
I've watched Grease no less than 500 times. I know every word and sing every song. I can do the hand-jive, all the gyrations featured in "Greased Lightening" and that weird lasso move Danny and Sandy do at the end of the dance-off.
You know what I never noticed about Grease? I never noticed how friggen weird the carnival scene is at the end. I think it's because I always watch Grease from the beginning, but when you turn it on and it's at the end, you get an interesting slice of alien life. Here's an example:
First off, synchronized dancing and singing. This is a dead give away that you've entered hokie-ville, but it's so much more than just synchronized dancing. For instance, in the middle of the dance routine, 3 guys break out into Charlie Chaplin impersonations. Why couldn't I have been present during the brainstorming for the final scene? I can see it now, the meeting with the producers and the lyricist who came up with, what must be, the most bizarre lyrical composition since "Supercallafragilisticexpidalidocious"
Written, it looks like this:
"Rama Lama Lama a dinkity-dingy-a-dong.
Shoo bop sha walla lop, yippity boom da boom.
Chang Chang, Changidity Chang Sha Bop.
Yip dee yip dee yip, do wop, dee doo dee doo.
A boogity boogity boogity boogity, shoo be doo wop doo wop.
Sha na na na na na yippity dip dee doo."
And then, repeats.
If you look closely at the faces of the actors, they can't even keep it together, which is why, I noticed, that the camera angles are usually from far enough in the distance so you can't read lips. If you could, you'd notice Rizzo totally cracks up in the middle of the song.
Grease may be the word, but it's a strange, strange word.
Posted by lysa at 9:26 AM | Comments (2)