#6 On My List of Items That Should Banned From Earth: Fannypacks

I know what you're thinking. You're probably expecting me to rant about some crazy person wearing a fannypack, doing idiot things, and thus giving me something to blog about. Well, you're wrong. In any other situation, yes, that would be a completely legitimate story for one of my blog posts and such a character would fit nicely between Idiot Convertible Driver and well, Larry. However, today's lesson on all things fannypack revolves around a bomb threat.

So I'm sitting at my desk, doing my daily crossword puzzle, counting the milliseconds until 5:00 p.m. when Mark calls me to tell me that there are about a dozen cop cars blocking off several intersections downtown. I don't think much of it and decide the blockade is probably for another stupid parade the city is doing. (I'm pretty sure my city would do a Groundhog Day parade if they had enough clowns and horse riding cops volunteer for it.) So I go back to figuring out what a five letter word for "fundraising dinner unit" could be. (It's "plate" by the way.) Time: 4:32 p.m.

"Ingrid, you'll have to exit the parking garage on the West side today. They've got the East side barracaded because of the BOMB THREAT," says Larry. Wha???? My ears perk up. I freak out. I begin to sweat. "Did you say bomb threat?" "Yeah. Crazy, ain't it?" "Why the hell are we still in the building then?" I ask. "Oh, it's probably just some crazy taxpayer mad about how much they had to pay in property taxes this year," says the man whose property taxes are frozen at the ridiculous 1947 millage rate (Larry). "Well, it sure would be nice if they'd let us put into practice those stupid drills we had to do last week," I say (well, more like shout. Hysterically.) Time: 4:51 p.m.

I begin to gather my things and mentally prepare a will. Time: 4:56 p.m.

Time: 5:00 p.m. I run down the stairs, through the sliding glass doors, onto 2nd Avenue. I am greeted by no less than 10 cop cars, 3 fire trucks, and one BOMB SQUAD MOBILE RESPONSE UNIT TRACTOR TRAILER. I stare in disbelief. This is definitely not a parade. There are men in uniform walky-talkying all around me. There are concerned citizens milling about. And then there's me, hightailing it my car to get the hell away from a potential bomb that may or may not have the ability to blast me into the next milleneum.

I arrive home. Time: 5:15 p.m. I check the local newspaper's website and find this headline: "Suspicious Package at Columbus Government Center isn't dangerous, situation ends."

The culprit: a fannypack with a pair of gloves inside, laying in the bushes. Time Homeland Security (I'm not kidding) was called to the scene: 4:30 p.m.

Case in point? Fannypacks are the devil. Fannypack? You are dead to me.

Tonight, Tonight, The World is Wide & Bright

1. Publix has officially turned me off to the ice cream aisle. Thank you, Publix, for realizing that us "Resolutioners" still have to grocery shop. Thank you, Publix, for realizing that we will still be tempted to traipse down the ice cream aisle, thinking we have the will power to say no, but knowing we will eventually give in to the chocolaty goodness of Phish food. Yes, thank you, Publix, for putting frozen beef liver on the ice cream aisle. I will no longer experience the same joy walking down that aisle as before. You're smart, Publix, real smart.

2. Between the hours of 7:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., any given t.v. viewer has the opportunity to view America's Funniest Home Videos on THREE DIFFERENT CHANNELS. Is there no better programming out there? I mean, give us some Gilmore Girls or something! Two were from the new host and there was one throwback episode from Mr. Saget. (But are they not all throwbacks? I swear, each time I watch that show, all of the audience members are straight up out the '80's, puff sleaves, blue eye shadow, and all.) I expect better out of you tomorrow night, cable t.v.

3. The Biggest Loser Season 9 premiered tonight. I've never watched The Biggest Loser before and I don't think I'll start. No reason in particular, it just doesn't hold my attention the way, say, Conveyer Belt of Love does. One of the drill sergeants actually said, "The contestants this season are MASSIVE." Yes, they're biggies, but massive? Massive is a word I contribute to world destruction, not chubsters. I don't know; I'm just not jumping on the band wagon. Are you? (And why? TELL ME WHY? They make the contestants weigh in without their shirts (male) and in sports bras (female)! I mean, I understand they don't want any added weight on the scales, but at this point, could a 1/2 lb. shirt really make THAT much of a difference? I don't think so.)

4. Luscious on For the Love of Ray J 2 went home tonight. Sorry to spoil it for you. I know you DVR'd/TIVO'd it.

Okay, time for my nightly dose of Benadryl and 30 Rock on Netflix. Peace out haters.

A Botox-Free Facelift

A new year, a new blog. (Wasn't "A New Year, A New You" the Jenny Craig slogan a few years ago, pre the Kirstie/Valerie feud?)

I kinda felt like it was time to make a few changes. More specifically, my blog needed to graduate from middle school. The pink, bubbly font with the cute stripey things just weren't doing it for me anymore. I needed something more grown-up.

So making its 2010 debut...introducing PeyPeyChronicles-Grown-Up-Point-Oh! (You know, like AOL, version 4.0? I felt like that one needed some extra explanation. Sometimes the things that come out of my brain are not easily understood by others.)

I like it. Do you?

Blood, Sweat, & Kickboxing

Turbo Kick? Kicked my ass.

See you again tonight, Mr. Gym.

Don't you dare call me a failure

So today I am officially starting my diet. Although I don't want to call it diet. I want to call it my skinny quest. One of my taglines on this blog is "I have been fat my entire life". It's true people. I can't remember a time when I looked or even felt remotely thin. My self esteem has, thank goodness, never suffered because of this (and honestly, you might want to watch out if - no WHEN - I get skinny because my self esteem will be uncontrollable, I am afraid.)

But looking back over the years of fat rolls, what I am sure would amount to a dump trucks load worth of cakes, brownies, and other assorted sweets, clothing that has never ever ever freaking EVER fit properly, (don't ask me how my self esteem stayed in tact through all of this) I have determined that I am a failure when it comes to discipline and following through on my goals. (See also the complete unabridged works of my college career.) And failure? A word I would like only to use when referring to any member of the Spears family.

Yet failure? My past goals are riddled with it. See the below example from my blog of January 28, 2009...


Ok, so here are my goals:
1. One year from today, January 28, 2010, I will be 75 pounds lighter.
2. By May 28, 2009, I will have lost 25 pounds. That's 1 1/2 pounds per week.
3. By September 28, 2009, I will have lost 50 pounds. That's 1 1/2 pounds per week.
4. By January 28, 2010, I will have lost 75 pounds. That's 1 1/2 pounds per week.

Yeah. That's failure with a capital "I'd have to lose 10 pounds before I even started on last years #1 goal to lose 75 pounds!" It's sad, isn't it? But please don't pity me. No, instead, drill sargeant me when you see me pick up chip drenched in cheese dip. Slap the cocktail glass out of my hand when I tell you "I had a rough day so I deserve this drink". (Rough day? Please! Have you seen my posts about my job? Yeah. If i say this sentence to you, please know that I am straight up lying through my teeth.) And go ahead, be my guest, call me a fat ass when I cut myself a bigger piece of YOUR birthday cake than you got. But don't you dare call me a failure.

This time, folks? Watch me lose as much weight as I can. I dare you.

And give me a high five when I see you at the gym tonight with the rest of the "failures".

I'm on a skinny quest.

Reflections

2009 has been kind of a big year for me.

Well, I guess I could say that about every year of my life, honestly. Each year, things happen that I am never expecting to happen, good and, well, kinda sucky things.

Like the year I turned 15: a nest of baby spiders were hatched on (and in!) my ankle. (Hmm. I may need to expand on that story. Another time, another post.)

Or perhaps the year I turned 21: I got my first kiss with a great guy named Jared. (He had pierced nipples and a mustard yellow colored suit. I guess that could count as a good thing as well as a sucky thing. You be the judge.)

Or maybe 2008 when (Okay, I know you're still thinking about those pierced nipples, perhaps in disbelief. Again, another time, another post, okay?) Ahhem. Yes, in 2008, my brother got married and I gained a wonderful big sister. ("Not loosing a broder, gainging a skeester." That's what I wrote in their guestbook the night of the wedding. Hey! Don't blame me! Helloooo! Open bar!!!)

And OH! 2005! I was 22. I was ready to forget about Mr. Pierced Nipples. Enter Mark. Can't believe it's been four years since that night in Auburn. That is definitely a good thing.

I would definitely say that 1993 & 1994 were great years because they brought me my favorite Alex & Molly in this whole, wide world. I never thought I would be a big sister to anyone (and was honestly a bit resentful knowing that I would not be the baby anymore) but I wouldn't trade those two for a mansion full of gold I could swim in, like Scrooge McDuck. (But how!? HOW?!? Did he swim through gold?!? Something that has perplexed me for about 20 years now. And Launchpad McQuack? One day, I will have a pet duck and name him this.)

2001 brought me a high school diploma, my first car, my first taste of real freedom, and a love of the open road (by open road I mean Highway 280: the road to Auburn, my best friend, and cute college frat boys.)

2004 brought me my first (absolutely fun, with an aftertaste of vomit) drunk experience in which I ended up, butt naked, in a tub with only about a quarter inch of water in it, blacked out.

2007 brought me my first diamonds (from Mark!) and a brief, yet extremely sucky, break up (from Mark!) and the demise of my college career: finance 101 (this one I lathered, rinsed, and repeated in 2008. You guessed it. Finance was equally sucky in 2008.)

No matter how sucky or how fantastic my years have been, they seem to be flying by at breakneck speed (in a plane piloted by Launchpad McQuack) and I can't figure out how to slow them down.

This year brought me a college diploma, a big girl job with a big girl salary (in the world of finance, imagine that!), lots of other really super not fun sucky responsibilities, a new found love of wine, the ability to bake fresh, delicious bread, a blog!, a set of new tires, 15 pounds (suck, suck, sucky to the max!) a few really endearing times with my best friends, a few new spiritual applications my forgiving, graceful heavenly father decided to impart to me, and excitement of what 2010 will bring me (parachuted from the plane driven by Launchpad McQuack)!

Happy New Year everyone!

Idiot fool

Dear man driving the convertible with the top down,

It's January. It's a teeth-chatter inducing 37 degrees outside.
You're an idiot.

All the best,
PeyPey