My ass......I can see my ass!!!

Today seemed like a breeze. Food didn't dance around my head taunting me. I even went grocery shopping and the produce looked a ton more appealing than the crap I was so used to buying. I'm walking down the aisle with my little buggy and see my reflection, which I tend to shy away from, and noticed a little tiny lump. I mean, we have been photo documenting our progress so I had already been aware of the "abnormal growth" beneath my back. Well, I was in public and I could actually see a view of my derrière as if a tiny invisible midget was back there holding it up for me....but just a smidge. Give me something to celebrate! Everyone knows I do not have any cushion back there at all so seeing the reflection of my toosh being a little lifted made me smile a toothy grin and chant, "You go girl with your bad self." So, make sure you notice those changes happening. They could even be the tiniest of changes. You arm out roll could be tucked away more discreetly, a random elbow fold could be rescending, or your chin could look like it stands in it's own world. Whatever they may be, celebrate them and give yourself a pat on the back. Don't look at your flaws and stray from those negative thoughts about what you think still needs fixing. Focus on your results. Not only will they seem to come quicker, but this journey to health will be way more rewarding as long as you aren't hard on yourself and feed your body not just what's good for you, but also healthy and happy thoughts!

Still on the wagon.

For the last 5 years, trying to get myself back into a happy medium with my body and inner being has been such a challenge. I am happy to report, since February 17th, I've still been kicking through! 32 pounds gone and still counting. The hardest part in all of this has been telling myself slow and steady wins the race. I'm more of the type who wants everything to happen in an instant. Unfortunately, I'd have to starve myself and take up one of those eating disorders for it to come that quickly. The moral support I've had with my wife, my sister in law and my mother in law has been one of the biggest motivations for me. We are running this race together and none of us have plans to give up. I want to use this blog as a momento of what has passed and what's to come. As you can see, I got on a short lived health kick a few years ago and gave up. I noticed I really never took the classes and exercise seriously because I was way too absorbed with making a joke out of everything I had to do because of my insecurities with myself. Hopefully, I can set a more positive tone, while giving you a giggle here and there. This time I am serious of the outcome, so the jokes that are to come will be genuine and not a "cover up" for what I feel are my failings. Just remember to move at the pace most comfortable to you. Some days will be harder, but keep that end goal in mind and turn to friends and family for support. Happy Health Hunting!

Here we go again...

I am horrible at trying to get into shape. I've managed to give myself every excuse to not push myself into the direction of complete happiness with myself. We have finally decided to get fit as a family and started February 17th. Our first weigh-in brought tremendous results! So, I'm back and have made it through a little over two weeks with the support of my wife, mother-in-law and sis-in-law. I started weekly emails and can hopefully motivate everyone to stay on track!

"Don't forget we have weigh-ins and pictures tomorrow. We also have a make-up walk day this Friday. I know you hate to do anything on Fridays after work, but let's get caught up. Friday's WOD (workout of the day) is the longest and hardest. We can just do the walk together and do the WOD on our own, or we can get it done together. It's not impossible for any of us to do, but it will leave you feeling sore in muscles you probably don't know exist. Don't you worry, this is a REST for you....okay, minus the Sit-up, Crunch and Squat Challenge. However, the quantities on those is pretty low for the weekend. Whatever you do, DO NOT do anything strenuous this weekend. You have to let your body and muscles fully recover to get ready for next week's workouts.

We should start seeing major changes after this week since we will be incorporating some weight training and body weight exercises. Our weight loss may slow down a little while gaining muscle but this is when the inch loss should be significant and we will keep track of it. I want all of us to do well and be happy with the new bodies we are trying to unveil.

Remember, there is absolutely no reason to be afraid to do strength training, as we don't have the hormone levels to "bulk up". Lifting will help us get lean and will create an attractive/favorable physique. That's what we all want, right? We will burn more calories while lifting. More calories=more fats leaving our bodies=quick visible results. "

Building muscle is one of the most helpful things we could do in order to speed up our bodies' ability to burn off fat, so don't second guess the benefit of strength training. A leaner body has less fluffy fluffs and we will tone up immediately instead of having all the loose extra stuff we don't want. I know you might be a little concerned about the strength training part of it, but it will stay in a challenging beginner level for all of us. Just remember, I've done this before and I'm trying to incorporate the best ways to see results fast in our workouts. 

Intense Stuff

I have been trying to fill my mind with positive mantras about being healthy. It's really hard to do when everything on your body hurts. I decided to spend my day off laying horizontally. My abs hurt when I stand, my butt hurts when I sit, my arms hurt.... Man, EVERYTHING hurts. I haven't felt this dilapidated since we got ran over by an 18-wheeler! We made our trek to boot camp this morning at 8:30am. I was feeling really good about going to bed at 11:30 last night and getting up to get myself on the track to getting fit.




We hopped right in and I immediately started sweating like I had had 8 cups of coffee and 2 Red Bulls for breakfast. Isn't this supposed to get easier? I've determined muscle confusion is more like muscle torture. I was unpleasantly surprised with sprint intervals in between each set. I am not a sprinter. For some reason, my gargantuan boobies like to take control of the situation and try to get ahead of me. It happens every time. I'm running and they want to go faster. Before you know it, I'm toppling over and they decide they'd prefer me get hurt and not cushion the fall and spread out like boob legs leaving me to fend for myself. Speaking of boobs, in between these sets, we also did 1 million squats. I tore my ACL and meniscus in my right leg a few years ago, so when I do anything that impacts my legs, my right knee likes to grow a boob like I am some weird mutant from Total Recall. It wouldn't be such a huge deal if we weren't hopping so much which gives me a knee jerk reaction...literally. By the time I get home, my knee boob is a B cup and my chest boobs are in such pain I feel like I have cancer. Tonight's agenda will include getting a better sports bra so I don't make the mistake again of going to the doctor for a breast exam because I won't get a more supportive sports bra.

I finally push through what seemed like the worst workout day ever. I am sure it's because I went from being sedentary with an "occasional" workout to doing something my body has not endured since sliced bread. I am aching all over but I did push it out as best as I could. I will say, I have never thought I'd actually enjoy a boot camp. It hurts but it is such a wonderful and inspiring experience. Especially with coaches who care about me getting healthy. Sure...every exercise makes me feel like I am some awkward sexual position, but hey! What ever works!




Next on my list, a COMPLETE diet make-over eating even better than how I have this week. I haven't had any cookies but it doesn't mean they didn't turn into my dream night stalkers. ;) I just need to get over sandwiches being my best friends. All of that processed crap has got to cause some health issue. I'll frolic with my hoagie one last time. Good night all!

Crack

Apparently my body has gone into addiction mode with Boot Camp. I'm assuming it's quite possibly what a crack addict would feel when they are feigning for the drugs. It's 3:45am. I am tossing and turning. I try to turn my brain off and get back to sleep but instead I am trying to think up the exercises we may be doing for the upper body workout. I feel Tara stir and she pops up and cracks open her iPad. So here we are, both wide awake and ready to get to boot camp. It's official.....Boot Camp is crack.

The only downside we experienced was getting there on a "Fitness Test" Day. Weights, measurements, push-ups, squats, timed run, etc... I re-confirmed my hate for burpees, my arms feel like spaghetti o's, my abs hurt siting, standing,....even breathing! It's been a long day but I wanted to let my followers know I lived through it so far. Until tomorrow. :)

Survival of the...

Boot Camps really aren't a joke. Once again, I got this nervous feeling on the way there. I got completely winded doing a "warm-up" last class so I had this sneaky little plan to get there a few minutes late, so I could save some of my "wind" for the first circuit set. Maybe it'd stave off the urge to puke. It turned out, our trainer was also running a few minutes late, so my evil little plan was not going to work.  The warm-up wasn't too bad. I was gasping for air after taking a lap, but strangely, it felt great. We come back in to stretch it out a little, then Tara points out the dry erase boards to me. Every single circuit included some sort of squats. Seriously? I just got the feeling back in my buns and my thighs finally stopped being tense! Here we go again!



Every circuit felt like some sort of military punishment. Step up on a box with a squat alternating between step up on a box and squat followed by a side kick. We did reps of 45 alternating between each exercise and side 4 times a piece in EACH circuit. Really? I am already regretting coming to class. After this circuit, we do Burpees, Jacks, Crunches...a few other things that my body completely disagreed with. I will say I do know what Burpees are Burpees. Who would come up with such a exercise? Apparently, someone who is easily entertained by bodily functions.






Next circuit, what I called the "tricep busters". The infamous wall of ropes with jump squats while simultaneously tossing these ropes alternating with some weird plank and touching your opposite toe to your OPPOSITE hand. My limbs kept getting confused. I was pretty sure I'd somehow kick myself in the face. My sweaty palms kept sliding away from me and my feet were trying to figure out why they kept getting so close to my boobs. Do I look like some sort of acrobat? I figure, if I could rip this one out, I should find out about getting into Cirque de Soleil. Can't be that tough, right? At least I don't feel like throwing up. The rope tossing finally slowed my noodle-arms down and I was already breathing heavy contemplating my escape to Starbucks next door.

We move on to the strange rope/chain things hanging out of the wall. I really need to learn the names of these things. We are instructed to do one-legged squats (yes, I laughed a deep belly Santa laugh) alternating between reverse crunches. I sit back into my one-legged squat on my stronger leg. First one felt like I was preparing myself for my "buttock-tical" demise. How does one's butt catch on fire without some sort of weird STD or sexual promiscuity? I was flash-backing to my very first squat to pee while camping. It's 1996 on a camping trip with my family. I am in a state of panic because there are no toilets around, but plenty of space to squat. I bring my sister for moral support. I finally take the trek into the woods, squat down to pee, and bam! I fall directly on top of a hill of FIRE ANTS. While my sister is laughing hysterically, I am running in circles, smacking my butt while peeing all over myself in my state of shock and panic. That was quite a scene. My sister still laughs about my fire ant pee/butt covered in ant bites for weeks incident. Yeesh! I finally modify myself to do deep squats. I didn't want to look like a wimp, so I was pulling out what I could. Then reverse crunches. Not too shabby. The at home pilates is paying off.

Next station was just ridiculous. My uncoordinated body was really in for a surprise. Our first set we held a wheel while pushing forward (wheeled-push-ups?) then back towards our bodies, then out to the left, and finally to the right repeating this for 45 seconds. Okay, now this was laughable. I'm already trying to figure out which dentist will be replacing both of my front teeth. My wrists were shaking and I was so afraid I'd end up planting my face into the ground. What's my obsession with face plants, anyway? I began to joke with Tara about whether or not these little "doo-dads" had a weight limit. Seriously. Every time I pushed forward, the wheel wanted to stop dead in its tracks as if it had a mind of its own. I am still very surprised I still have all of my teeth. Our alternating rep for this set was even worse. We had to swing a medicine ball around in circular motion while lunging on one leg and sliding the other foot around in full circular motion. Sounds simple, right? WRONG! The opposite foot was on a plate. I thought I'd end up doing involuntary splits, falling over and cracking my pelvic region. It was near impossible to stay coordinated, but by gosh I tried. I probably didn't push this rep out as much as I needed to, but hey. I need these legs to walk on and these teeth to not look like some sort of red-neck living in a town where the water is secretly robbing my teeth right out of my mouth.


I hear the words of an angel....LAST CIRCUIT!! I could've jumped up and smacked my heels together. Well, if we are being completely honest about my jumping abilities, it'd be more of a lay down on the floor and clap my heels sort of thing. More butt busters followed by crunches on a Bosu ball (I learned the name of a contraption!). We pulled resistance bands over our shoulders as if we were wearing some hideous Urkel gear and squatted low then stepped up and squatted on that weird springy platform thing. I was waiting for the band to snap. Haha. Imagine that. It looked as if we had full body retainers. The crunches on the Bosu bad was more like a nice little stretch for my back and abdominal muscles and a time to catch my breath. Whew! We finally complete it. I only had to throw up twice this time and my legs didn't buckle on me. I was feeling quite accomplished. We follow everything with a cool-down stretch and a few breathing exercises. I made it!!!! I left with sore muscles and a right butt cheek ache. Someone grab me a beer! Just kidding. ;)

Keeping Up

It wasn't difficult to keep up with a workout regimen throughout the weekend with reasonable diet boundaries. I was a little apprehensive about working out on Friday because my muscles were really angry. Friday and Saturday I did a serious circuit of upper body training with Power flow Yoga. It made me a little concerned about what Upper Body boot camp has in store for me. While doing planks in Power flow, I was pretty sure I'd have some sort of freak accident and break my nose and orbital regions having to have some sort of reconstructive surgery. Can't I just ask the surgeon to suck out some fat layers while he's fixing my face? There's an idea. At some points, my arms trembled. I am pretty convinced it's because they are clairvoyant and know something really bad is going to happen to them this week like last week's lower body fiasco. Arms, please don't go noodle on me.

My biggest challenge is staying away from the bars/alcohol on the weekend. It's not like I am some sort of raging alcoholic. I just like having fun. I'm big into binge drinking weekends, singing karaoke and feeling like shit all of Sunday just to have my Sunday Funday later that night. Unfortunately, my innards disagreed with me after Saturday's night out and made me feel like hugging the porcelain face hell. I should take the moments of "brain farts" I typically have after a weekend of drinking and help that make me decide to save it for a once every few weeks occasion.


On a good note, my muscles feel great and I seem a little smaller in some areas. My clothes are already feeling more comfortable. I will continue this journey and push as hard as I can. Today's workout will be some cardio and upper body followed by the early bird boot camp. Hopefully, I will conquer the machines I still need to learn the names of and continue to fight the urge vomit. This week will be pretty darn interesting.

The Day After...

I can't move. Is this the after effects of a real workout? I'm nervous about what the next few workouts will make me feel like. A sore butt is not great. My sister always says she hurts so good after a workout. I get the good with the rest of my muscles. That only means I am getting stronger, but my butt? Seriously? I need this bad boy to sit on on. Is it some sort of punishment that will make me not want to do any activity that does not require sitting? I'm pretty sure that's the deal. I was going to skip working out today because I am so sore but I heard muscle confusion was best. My muscles are already confused with yesterday's events. So, I am going to keep going with this healthful living idea and get me a long, strenuous workout in. Muscles, don't fail me now!

Hell Day Results

Today was the start of boot camp. The whole way there, I tried to think up a million excuses as to why I could not make it. Maybe a brand new onset case of narcolepsy so when I entered moments of agony, I could pretend sleep for however long I needed to recuperate and energetically hop back in as if I had been woken up out of this long and unaware hibernation. We go to Walmart to buy Tara's weights and yoga mat and off we go to see the weight loss wizard.

We walk into what looked like a daunting place in my mind. Random ropes hooked to walls, bungee cords that must be here for the toddlers to play on, weights, weird round platforms on springy things, and semi-exercise balls. Did they reduce these to lay on the ground to save money? Who knows. We meet our pack leader and are surprised with the ultimate embarrassing request. "Okay, take off your shoes and socks so I can get your weight and fat percentage and then we will do your measurements." I will go ahead and leave out the details of the results. As if divulging this information to a complete stranger was not enough, fellow "camp members" start filing in wearing their half tops and "skinny shorts" while my numbers are being yelled out to be recorded. Bummer! Trembling with anxiety and fear, I neglect to tell our pack leader of my past knee problems, torn meniscus and ACL. I was entirely too caught up in studying the shocking contraptions thinking up each disastrous moment to happen in each circuit.

Here I am grabbing my unflattering capri, hug-your-legs-as-tight-as-you-can attire trying not to be embarrassed of being the heaviest one in the class. She explains we will be doing speed repetition circuits. Each circuit we did 20 seconds of each exercise with 10 seconds of rest repeatedly until reaching 4 minutes and then switching circuits.

We start with squats, lunges, and jumping jacks to warm up. "I can do this. Easy enough." Then we are asked to take a lap. I am not the last one in, so I was feeling pretty good. Then we start the circuit with what I'd like to call the "impossible mini mountain jump." You start on the floor, high jump onto a platform and jump back off....backwards. Anyone who knows me can attest to my clumsiness. First of all, I am 2&# lbs. At 170 lbs., I couldn't even jump more than 2 inches off the ground, so this platform was really scary. I don't think I could even hop a centimeter off the ground! My first try, I missed the whole platform, slid a little bit and am pretty sure I somehow jumped on my own ankle. Embarrassing! I modify myself to speed step ups, which equally hurt. My legs haven't had this much action....ever.  It was only the beginning.

We move on to the springy platform where you had to use your core to balance yourself while doing bicep curls with resistance bands. I'm thinking, "Weight training, this is easy." and request a tougher resistance level. I wonder if she saw me gritting my teeth halfway through. Not the brightest idea to try to go big on my first day. Next, there was a circuit where the wall puked up these large, heavy ropes. We grab the ropes and while doing a jumping jack squat, we circle the big ropes in, then out. At this point I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of this queasy feeling. "Don't puke. Don't puke!" Next circuit, DEEP squat jumps while holding onto bungee cords stretched out from the ceiling. At one point I heard my legs scream, "Damn YOU! Still fight the urge to puke. You can do it!" My legs are trembling and I am a giant sweat pool. I grab some water but realize it was sort of a bad idea. Now I want to puke up water, my innards and brain. I think this would be a good time for my narcolepsy to kick in. Please let this be over soon. We head over to the medicine balls to do "rainbow throws". For some reason it reminded me of Leonardo da Vinci's painting, "The Vitruvian Man". The movements were so swift and circular that my "back air-hole" decides to release its inhibitions. At least it was a silent fiasco. We take a 2 minute break. At first I was over-joyed because I thought we were through. Way to pre-celebrate! This certainly was not the case. We were only half-way through. "Oh goodness! Someone give me a cookie and get me out of here!"

Next circuit was "Speed Side-Way Mountain Climb". Holy Cannoli! At this point my knees are really feeling it. I am slowing down and seeing double. I'm pretty sure I am going to miss the platform any second now and create a domino effect with anyone near me. We move on to the weird springy balance board to do squat rows. My triceps pretty much go numb at this point and I am thinking of the bottle of muscle relaxers sitting at home on the stove. I fight back the vomit surfacing in my throat and am just about ready to quit. That's the good thing about being in a group. You are to embarrassed to quit.

We move on to outer and inner round house squat kicks. I finally feel the fluid collection around my knee and wave the leader down for a modification. Even the modification hurt! My hips and inner thighs are on fire right now. It was the easiest to push through so I keep a fit image of myself in my mind. We move to what I could only call the "spider monkey fell on a cactus family surprise squat jump". It was sort of like a wild form of jumping jacks coupled with turning the floor into a trampoline and squatting. This CAN'T be good for your ankles! I give it a whirl which was a time of laughter at my expense. I looked like I hippo trying to join the cheer squad.

Finally, we hit the last circuit...weighted plank rows. I'm imagining my downward dog face plant once again hoping my weenie arms don't give up on me. I could have drowned in the amount of sweat dripping from my forehead. In my mind I'm thinking I will never do this again. I push it to the end. I took a few breaks in between repetitions, but I made it. SUCCESS! My whole body is aching and confused. Shoot, even I felt a little disoriented. Surprisingly, I am thirsty for more embarrassing moments. The leader asked what we thought of class. I was honest and told her I was afraid to come because I thought it'd be intimidating. She said I did good and at least I didn't give up or puke. I didn't tell her I almost did a few times. All in all, I'd say it was like an Insanity video. The atmosphere was positive and encouraging. I worked so hard that it was not a problem talking myself into trying to eat healthfully, so this torture would not be a waste. Frosted Donuts are looking like chocolate covered turds right about now. I will be back tomorrow. Now children, the moral of the story is... Take some Gas X before you go to a boot camp that forces you to contort your body in "expelling" positions. Until next time...

Day 1 of 30-Let the torture begin!

Boot Camp starts in 2 hours, so here I am getting fueled with a meal replacement and protein shake getting ready for this work out I am deathly afraid of. Note to self:Clif Bar in Cool Mint flavor tastes like a grit covered raisin-plum-grapple sort of concoction. I will stick to oatmeal.




Today marks the beginning of whether I can stand to be exposed in front of a group of people doing exercises, most of which I've never heard of, and fighting the urge to want to run out and hide behind a life-sized box of mac-n-cheese. Mmmm.....mac-n-cheese. So here's goes my best shot. 30 days to jump start a new healthy me!

"Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy."

Dale Carnegie

Diets are Blah!

Ugggghhhh! The dog's food is looking pretty enticing right about now. There ARE real chunks of meat in it. If anyone sees me resorting to getting on all fours beside my child furries, please kick me in the the butt, pick me up and slap me.

I have been trying to get eating healthful things in check. My apple and yogurt didn't taste like the box of Girl Scout Caramels I wanted to eat. Whoever says you get over craving the junk is a flat out liar. Even deep into changing my habits, I dream of bathing in pools of Oreos and milk. I guess I will keep gnawing of these lovely orange sticks and round red things until I get used to it and my reflection in the mirror doesn't make me jump back in disgust when I walk by.

So here I go, dragging my feet to grab my yoga mat and praying my next downward dog is accomplished sans face-plant. Then off to boot camp at the butt crack of dawn. This body better be getting healthy and svelte soon. I'm bound to be that chic living in her bed ordering take-out. #prayingformyself

The Furries of Our Lives

Picking Peyton & Jeter Watts

Tara had a whippet years ago and had always wanted another one. I was not familiar with the breed and after hearing the story of how he chewed through a door frame and locked her out of the apartment, I was quite the skeptic. We couldn't find any breeders or anyone looking to re-home a whippet. A high school friend of mine posted some pictures of her whippets on Facebook while they were out on a play date and I fell in love with them. She said they were quite the social little butterflies. She told me to look through PuppyFinder.com (where she got both of her babies) and I just happened to stumble across a breeder with a litter that was just born. I kept an eye on them and watched how each pup developed in personality. We decided we were ready to add to our family and get a puppy. Peyton was the runt with the lovable and sweet personality. He loved being independent and asked for attention when he needed it. He was also the first puppy to start potty training which was a huge plus for us since it was one of the things we were concerned about. A picture of him was finally posted. We contacted the breeder to let her know we'd chosen Kirby (Peyton's birth name). She often emailed with updates and how he was doing. She sent us a picture of him running through the fields. He was such a cutie pie and we had to have him!

Then one day, I was looking through PuppyFinder again just to look at all the other cute puppies. We had a Doberman while I was growing up and I'd always wanted to have one. We first decided we'd add another puppy to the family after Peyton was a few years old, but lo and behold! There was a litter of Doberman pups about 30 minutes from Peyton's breeder and was born a week earlier! We thought it was destiny and started contact with her breeder. She documented every single day of the litter's lives so we got to get a full picture of what kind of puppy Jeter would be. She had pictures online of how each pup interacted with their siblings. Jeter was energetic by morning, lazy by day and night! She was very smart and loved to play with the puppies in her litter and her Mom's Dalmation sister. We figured she'd be the perfect match for Peyton.

We found both of our future babies late March of 2011 and kept in close contact with the breeders so we couldn't miss a moment of their first 6-7 weeks of life. We picked both of them up on May 12, 2011. At first they seemed uninterested    in each other but inched their way to each other as the night wore on.

Before you knew it, the were best buds sharing the same toys and spooning each other.

They already had a feline brother, Fido, at home waiting for them and he was anxious to sniff out his new family members. He was outnumbered but he let his new canine brothers play with him and then he became one of the dogs. :)

Even though, Peyton did end up being a wall chewer and Jeter likes to play "Minute to Win It" when emptying out her stuffed animals and dog beds, we are so happy with our decision to add Peyton and Jeter to our family. Their companionship and willingness to please has been such a heartwarming experience. We've enjoyed watching them grow into their personalities and while at times training them has been a challenge, we would never trade it for anything in the world. We love our furry, little children. What they say about dogs being the most loyal best friends you could have is true. They really do lighten up your mood and fill your heart with so much love. We love them so much! While having such opposite personalities, they complete each other and our family. :)

Success Rules

Success Rule #1



Your life only gets better when you get better. Your outer world will always be a reflection of your inner world. If you want to improve the quality of your outer world you must go to work on yourself. Since there’s no limit on how much better you can get there’s no limit to how much better you can make your life.


Success Rule #2


It doesn’t matter where you’re coming from, it only matters where you are going. Don’t allow yourself to be slowed down or held back by events that have occurred in your past. You are not your past. Resolve to stay focused on your future and where you’re going. Since your future is only limited by your imagination, there is no limit to what you can achieve in the months and years ahead.






Success Rule #3


Anything worth doing well, is worth doing poorly…at first. Remember, everything is hard, before it is easy. The primary reason that people don’t reach their full potential is that they try something new, and when it doesn’t work perfectly the first time, they quit and go back to their old lower level of performance. Anything worth doing well, is worth doing poorly several times before you master it.


Success Rule #4


You are only as free as your options. In other words, the well developed alternatives that you have available to you. One of the most valuable assets we have is personal freedom. Your freedom is largely determined by your choices. The more options you have, the more freedom and self confidence you have. Refrain from boxing yourself in by limiting your choices. You should be continually be developing new options and skills throughout your life. Never hang all of your hopes for success on a single possibility.


Success Rule #5


Within every problem or difficulty or setback, there is the seed of an equal or greater advantage or benefit. Look for the good in every problem. Look for the valuable lesson in every adversity or set back. Look for something you can gain from every difficulty and you will always find it.


Success Rule #6


You can learn anything you need to learn to achieve any goal that you set for yourself. You are designed by nature to be a learning organism. You can acquire any knowledge and any skill you need to rise to the top of anything that you choose to do. Continually seek out new learning opportunities that are in line with your goals.


Success Rule #7


The only real limits on what you can do or be or have, are the limits you accept in your own mind. Shakespeare said “Nothing is, but thinking makes it so”. Henry Ford said “If you believe you can do a thing or you believe you cannot, in either case you’re probably right”.


You should know that YOU have within you, right now, all the talents and ability you could ever want or need to achieve any goal or dream you can set for yourself. The only question you have to ask is “how badly do I want it?” If you want anything badly enough and you’re willing to persist long enough, nothing can stop you from achieving it. Determine what you want, apply the rules above and do what successful people like yourself do…TAKE ACTION!

Observations and Random Thoughts

I have an “unusual gift” of noticing the remarkable in some of the most unremarkable things. Some people would say it’s what makes me an artist. I say it’s deeper than that. I’m just more aware of my surroundings than most. Long story short, I notice ish. Couple that with a mind that NEVER stops cranking a mile a minute and you get a fairly skewed thought process. Here are some of my recent observations and “thoughts” about life in general.



I’ve waited 5 years and I think enough time has passed for me to enlist you, the reader’s, help. In Beyonce’s song “Baby Boy” featuring Sean Paul, what does “ata-ata-ana-ya” mean? How does he know I’m gonna like it? And that apparently shouldn’t fight it…



What’s the deal with that bushel of gnats that congregates above sidewalks at face level so you walk directly into them?



Would dating a set of identical twins simultaneously qualify as cheating? I mean they have the same face and superficially the reason you are attracted to one would be the EXACT reason you would be attracted to the other.



What is a “second world country”? I mean I know what a “third world country” is… And I suppose I know what a “first world country” is. Is this the same conspiracy that taught us about speaking in first and third person? How’d they know I didn’t want to speak in second person to keep people on their toes. Maybe “second world countries” speak in second person…



What were bald eagles called 10 years ago? Balding eagles? Receding hairline eagles?



Since I pay rent at my apartment and that’s the sole reason I’m NOT sleeping on the street for at least the next month doesn’t that indirectly qualify my apartment as a “homeless shelter”? Tax exemption here I come!!!



I don’t like when I go places and the employee tells me to “have a nice day” as I’m leaving. That’s putting so much pressure on me. What if I leave and have a bad day? I’ve let Mr Scholtzsky's drive through clerk down… And NOONE wants that.



Had to give you something short and sweet to get back in the saddle of writing on a consistent basis. It's tough trying to juggle everything these days.

Racism in Children's Shows Part 1.5

Finally, I have found another show more racist than any of the other shows I mentioned in that earlier post (see: Racism, furry boots, and panchos) combined. "The Smurfs" is possibly the most blatantly racist show ever to air on public programming. Right, I hear you all asking "how is Smurfs racist, it's just a kids cartoon". Let me explain. All the blood in the human body travels through one central location. That's the heart. The color most closely associated with "cold" is blue. So in turn when someone is cold-hearted or hateful, that would make their blood blue. Now follow me I am going somewhere with this. If the blood is blue and it travels through the entire body it would give the flesh a blue tone. When white people get cold they turn blue right? Of course they do. So that correlates the blue skin and white people. Now everyone in the town serves a purpose. There's handy smurf and artist smurf, and prostitute smurf, (I believe everyone remembers her as Smurfette). They all had talents and used those talents to make a living in the village. They did these various tasks in all white outfits. Now it doesn't take a genius to see that these outfits are all white with a hood. Now Papa Smurf, was different, he was older and he wore an all red hooded outfit. Now is it me or does that sound eerily close to the KLAN? All the members have on white hoods and the Grand Wizard (or Grand Dragon or whatever he is called) or "leader" has on an all red hood. Now even though they animated the head villain as a white guy, there is no way he was white. How many Caucasians have you met named "Gargamel"? Now let's take a trip to the ghetto, I bet we find that name, or something close to it, in abundance. You can let your kids watch that stuff if you want to, but not me. It's hateful I tell ya. Just hateful.

How to commit the perfect crime.

After viewing an obscene amount of Forensic Files, CSI, and The Bone Collector, I think I have finally figured out the necessary steps one would need to follow to commit the perfect crime. The steps will have to be followed in exactly this order for you to pull off a forensically undetectable crime. (If one of you nitwits is simple enough to take what I am about to write and try to commit any sort of crime from shoplifting to murder, then you deserve to go to prison, for a long, long time.)
Purchase all necessary equipment from different types of stores in different regions of the country over the course of 3 to 4 months or longer.
This will make the seemingly unrelated items less conspicuous, and virtually untraceable. I said the perfect crime not the easiest or cheapest crime.

Purchase shoes that are two to three sizes too large.
Forensics can determine where the weight was distributed even if you wear shoes that are too large, so you will need to create a weight distribution mechanism within the shoe, that will alleviate that problem.

Shave off all of your hair.I mean EVERY. SINGLE. STRAND. You need to rid yourself of the hair on your head, facial hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, nose hairs, back hair, pubic hair, knuckle hair, arm hair, leg hair, chest hair, stomach hair, ear hair, and toe hair. You will need to shave it and dispose of it. The best way to do this is go to your barber shop and drop the hair on the ground in moderation, and allow the barber to sweep up the mess without becoming suspicious.

Exfoliate your skin.
First you must bleach your bathtub, so that all old skin that may be hiding in the tub has been removed. Once this has been done you will exfoliate in your own tub, so that your dead skin is not found in someone else's tub. Once you exfoliate, you will need to pay careful attention to your feet. Remove any dead skin that may have fallen on your feet.

Clip your fingernails.
Clip them slightly shorter than normal so that there is no chance to pick up anything between the nail and the skin.

Wear clothes that are not easily torn or pick up carpet fibers.
After much research ( see: absolutely no evidence of what I am about to say is true) I have found that a wetsuit would be the best option. The neoprene/spandex hybrid is good in hot or cold weather because of the insulation. And because they are form fitting you can wear them under other clothes until the most opportune time to commit the crime. Of course a face covering and gloves are quintessential to any crime. You don't want to be recognized so a mask that completely covers your face coupled with a rebreather are a must. The rebreather will protect against any traces of possible saliva being found at the scene. A well fitted mask similar to the vampire ninjas from Blade II, will prevent any sweat being left at the scene. Football receiver gloves will adequately cover the hands and still provide a wide range of movement if and when needed.

The crime will need to be a serial crime.
You cannot know the victim otherwise, it can be traced back to you. You can also have no motive. It needs to appear to be completely random.

And there you have it. If you follow these steps precisely, upon finding the most opportune time to commit the crime, you should get away scot-free. That is of course unless the cops go out looking for a hairless, exfoliated surfer ninja with clown shoes, receiving gloves, short finger nails and a breathing machine. In which case you, as well as Charlie Villanueve are in trouble.
CSI/CIA/FBI please don't come looking for me. It's all jokes!! LOL

Racism in Children's Shows

My entire life I've been considered the unknown race. People take one look at me and I can see that questioning look in their eyes trying to figure out what hybrid breed I was. My Mom is native to American Samoa and my dad was white. So what does it matter? It shouldn't right? I mean the same person made us all. We all just look different. No matter how much we try to ignore the racist issues....it rises...and you won't believe where it can be found either. I would like to discuss the racist shows that have been infiltrating our airwaves as far back as 15 years ago. What racist shows am I speaking of?

First, we have Power Rangers. Now come on, how can we not see this one? The black ranger was black. The white ranger was white, the pink ranger was pink, the yellow ranger was yellow, the blue ranger had blue eyes, the green ranger, green eyes, and still to this day I feel that red ranger was a native American, but I dont have enough evidence to prove that yet. Yes this was racist, but the real racism comes in when it was time to fight. Why did the black ranger dance every time he had lines? Can black people only hold conversations with you while doing body rolls and pop locking?

Then we have Captain Planet.. Ok everyones "powers" made sense except one. Let me refresh your memory. The Chinese girl had "water". Thats understandable because for the most part China is a water based economy. Cool. The Russian girl had "Wind". Makes sense. Russia is known for blizzards and windy cold conditions. Cool. The South American boy had "Heart". Now it was obvious that Matee was gay, so "heart" fits. And he needed to have compassion and be able to pass it to others in order to save the rainforests. Now this is where it gets racist. The little Red head All-American boy with the mullett gets the most powerful of all powers. "FIRE". Then to add insult to injury, they give the African "DIRT"!!! You can call it "EARTH", which is what they were calling it on the show, but you can't trick me! It was soil. I know that Kwame was African and we know that culture and civilization was begun in Africa, but since we are known for being close to EARTH, why do they give the little African with the "box" dirt as a power? And besides, who has ever seen an African with a "box"?

And finally the most racist of them all, DORA the EXPLORER!!!! I know, I know, some of you with kids are wondering where the racism in this is, and more importantly, why am I watching it. Let me explain. You have a little Hispanic girl teaching kids things about Hispanic culture and some of the language. You are thinking that this is ingenious right? WRONG!!! RACIST!!!!! Who is Doras best friend? A MONKEY named BOOTS. A hyper monkey in boots I might add. That is nothing more than a a hoodrat minority in some Timberlands!!! "Boots" the monkey is dumb and is depending on a woman to support him. He doesnt have a job, he doesnt go to school. He lives with his woman. Plus every hood in the nation has some hyper crackhead running and jumping down the street with some rubber rain boots from Wal-Mart. Sound familiar? Then the villain on the show is a thieving fox named "Swiper". Swiper has a bandit mask on making him look like a thief. This is nothing more than a clever ploy to make Swiper a raccoon. Then on top of that he steals for a living. When they catch Swiper they always say the same phrase, "Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping. Swiper no swiping." This is implying that black people are hard headed. You have to tell people of color things more than one time for them listen. Or that after they get that "third strike" they are going to be locked up and one less ignorant minority on the street. Furthermore what gave his race away, for me at least, are his mannerisms. What other race besides black people suck their teeth when something doesnt go their way? What is Swipers response when he gets caught? "Skktttttt, awwww man!!! And snaps his fingers. RACIST I tell ya!!!! Just racist!!!!!

Disabled Vs. Handicap

Gays don't like being called fags or dikes, they prefer, "homosexual". Fat people prefer to be called "plus size". Ugly people prefer to be called "good personality-ed". Midgets prefer "little people". And handicapped people prefer "disabled". Handicapped and disabled are two totally different things in my opinion. Disabled people have disabilities and still live their life. They are not looking for any handouts, nor are they wanting anyone to feel sorry for them. They are cool people. So cool, in fact, that at times you forget they are in that wheelchair, or use those crutches. You can crack jokes on them and they will crack back. All in all they are fun to be around. Handicapped people have disabilities that they use as handicaps. They want that handout, they feel that everything should be discounted for them. They want those close parking spots, they want the world to see their ailment and feel sorry for them. Well I don't, and refuse to feel sorry for any of them. In fact I strongly dislike them. Not the disabled folks, just the handicapped ones.

Why do they get the close parking spots? They're are already in a chair with wheels. It's not like they're going to get tired while rolling to the front doors of the store. The chair is motorized. As a matter of fact when is the last time you saw a person in a wheel chair that manually turned the wheels? If they weren't homeless or on a basketball team, my guess is, it's been a while. So, not only do they get the close parking spots, they're lazy. Why do they even have those parking spots in other places? Like the skating rink. That's dumb!!! When people go to the skating rink, they go so they can roll around, and feel the difference between regular walking and rolling. Well, do handicapped people go to the skating rink so they can feel what it feels like to walk instead of roll? No! So what's the point. That's like a bird taking a plane to get somewhere. Another place I don't understand why there are so many "handicapped" parking spots is at amusement parks. These people come to the park with their own rides. I have yet to see someone pull themselves out of their chair to ride the "Texas Giant". ::Again let me remind you, I am not talking about disabled people, only talking about those hateful little handicapped folks.::
I am aware that all handicapped people don't use wheelchairs, and I am also aware that a major factor in what differentiates the disabled from the handicapped is the attitude. HANDICAPPED PEOPLE ARE MEAN!!!!! It's like they want to throw a guilt trip on you, because you can walk upright. It's not my fault. Why are you mad at me? Why are you so mad in the first place? It's not like your feet hurt from walking. It's not like you have to pay full price anywhere you go. And why do they get a discount in the first place? I can see some things being discounted, like seat cushions, or if you only have one leg, shoes should be about half off, but why do they get discounts on bus rides, or food, or movies? Fat people don't get a discount on diet foods. Handicapped people make me sick. They feel that everyone owes them something. I don't owe you anything. I will fight a handicap person. PERIOD. I really don’t like them!! There is nothing intimidating about a person with a limp, or a person sitting in a rolling chair. I mean you could just fight them on a hill and it would be effortless. So, with all that said, if you are a handicapped person reading this and you are offended or upset, then be my guest to get out of your chair or limp your self in my face and fight me.

All babies aren't cute

I have heard people say that there is no such thing as an "ugly baby"…………tssskkkk!!! Anyone that can say this with a straight face and mean it, has never been to my job on that bi-weekly holiday called "payday". It makes me mad to see these people bring their little Treasure Trolls to work and parade them around like they are actually adorable. You can't bring these little bald sweaty vampire bats up here during daylight hours. The thing that gets me though, is that no one will tell the parents the truth. They always want to hold the baby, and tell all these lies about how cute the kid is, and how many boys they are going to have to beat off with sticks. They fill these parents heads with false hope and set the kids up for failure. I on the other hand tell the truth about the kids. If they are ugly I say so. As always there is a method to my madness and this post is no different. The topic of ugly babies has a reason. Friday this chick brought her "child" to work and was taking "it" from person to person showing "it" off and got to me and asked "did I want to hold "it"?" I asked her "does "it" bite?" Now maybe I shouldn't have said it, but I did, and now people are saying that I am hateful. So what. Forget her and her ugly little creation. Now some of you are saying that I am wrong too, but you didn’t see the "child". He looked like a fully-grown ferret in the face. Are babies supposed to have shaving bumps? None that I have seen. The baby wasn't cute at all. You know the baby is ugly when you can only compliment it's clothes "Aww look, I didn't even know they made Jordan's that small" or comment on something else regarding the baby. "Look at how little his fingernails are." Some of you are about to send me an e-mail reminding me that I "shouldn't talk about other people's children being that I have yet to conceive rugrats myself", and I say to you, if by chance my kids look like albino sugargliders, I will simply leave them home. They would never see the public during daylight hours. Simple as that. What also kills me is these same people take their alleged "kids" to the photographer to get their pictures taken. No that, in and of itself is not the problem, I mean everyone wants to document their child's growth, that's cool. But what drives someone to get wallet sized pictures of their kids to pass out to people at work, or church, or even school. No one cares to have pictures of your kids. It's hood. It's bad taste. It's ghetto. The people that give pictures of their kids to other people that aren’t family are the same people that pin money to their shirts on their birthday. They're the same people that put batteries in the freezer thinking it recharges them for a little while. They're the same people that think if you open a portable CD player while the cd is playing, it scratches the disc. They're the same people that put old milk jugs full of water in their front yard saying that it "keeps the dogs out of their yard". They're the same people that think Epson Salt heals everything. They're the same people that…….well you get the point. Until I have time to give you more….

Spare the rod, spoil the child.

Today's generation is hopeless. They have the work ethic of Paris and Nicky Hilton. They need to be entertained at all times. (ie. family cars with TV's and XBOX's) They don't/ can't read. They don't/ can't cook. They don't exercise. The United States is by far the fattest nation in the world and the children of the current generation are the fattest in history. There is a very simple solution to ALL of these problems. Proverbs 13:24. For those of you that don't have a Bible handy, it states in the RIV, (Rachel International Version) "Beateth, your childeth's anus…eth…." (or something like that). The problems we deal with now on a daily basis are the direct result of the lack of discipline in the home. Today's youth have too many rights. There is a fine line between discipline and abuse. I personally believe that discipline is only abuse when there's a witness and a phone call. Granted there are people that nearly kill their children through neglect or starvation, and I am not talking about those people. Those people are sick. I am talking simple stuff, like when your child steals something from the grocery store, you should be able to punch them in the chest without having to look over your shoulder for CPS. Every productive citizen in history got their behinds beat. Everyone one of them. Dwight Eisenhower got his behind beat. Adolf Hitler didn't. Jackie Robinson got his behind beat. Kevin Federline didn't. Michael Jordan got his behind beat. George Dubya didn't. See a pattern here? When I was a kid I can remember getting my behind beat consistently. My mom would create weapons to beat us. She duck-taped a 2 by 4 to an orange extension cord and swung it over her head like a lasso. I of course ran and she Wonder Woman-ed me by my knee caps and dragged me 6 blocks back to the house. The bad part about it was the extension cord was still plugged in. (note: everything after the word "consistently" is a lie) My mom had one of those old school wooden tennis rackets with no hole in the middle, just solid wood. The handle was short and had a leather grip. Attached to the end was a string that was used to so she wouldn't drop the paddle while whipping us. (if one person was getting a whipping, we all were about to get one) The paddle hung from the back of her door and was the source of torment from my childhood to late highschool life. Not only did we get the beating of a life time, we were also placed in "time-out", and placed on punishment. One occurrence would result in a beating of monumental magnitude, 6 hours of community service (usually cleaning my siblings' rooms or other chores), and all of the technology removed from my room. This included but was not limited to TV, radio, lights, air, and pretty much anything that required electricity or batteries. I can remember one time she turned off the electricity to just my room. I had to use daylight. When the sun went down I had to go to sleep. She would take anything that I enjoyed. One punishment restricted me from going to church, another restricted me from drawing. DRAWING!!! She came in my room one night and found me in the my closet with a flash light drawing anything I could think of. Though these punishments sound extreme, they were necessary to teach me whatever lesson she wanted me to learn. And I thank her for that. I am a level headed good woman with ambition and goals, and it has everything to do with my mom disciplining me. So with that said, please leave your homes, or computer labs, or jobs, or where ever you may be reading this, right now and punch the first kid you see. Multiple punches are a plus. They probably deserve it. We have to whip (literally) this nation back into shape one child and one drop kick at a time.

Join my "RHaLK 2007 campaign". ROUND HOUSE a LITTLE KID 2007.

The Hand Family

The Hand family is exactly like any other family. They are close knit, and are held together by their mother, Palm. She is visibly aged with wrinkles and lines covering her face. She taught all of her children the importance of teamwork at a young age. The father, Arm supports his family, but rarely gets to see them due to the location of his job. Palm and Arm have quintuplets, and they call their flock of kids "the Fingers". On the surface, the Fingers seemed to genuinely dislike one another, but like any other family, when an altercation arose involving someone outside the family, they joined together to fight. Though the Fingers are quintuplets they are not identical. Their physical attributes as well as their personalities vary greatly. You see, Thumb is the optimist in the family and he always tells people what a great job they are doing, or he let's them know he approves of their actions. Though he is the short and rather stubby brother, he always finds the "good" in things. Then there is Pointer. Pointer never thinks anything is his fault. He always blames everyone around him, even when he knows it's his fault. He feels that no matter what he's "number 1". He is tall and slender, but not as tall as his brother Middle. Middle is the tallest of the five brothers and is rather mean. He only speaks when he is upset, and he ultimately succumbs to his anger, especially while driving. Middle is single "hand"edly the number one cause of most of the road rage in the nation. Not a fact that he is very proud of. Then there is the Other Middle Finger. The Other Middle Finger is the brother with low self-esteem. He is not as optimistic and supportive as Thumb. He doesn't feel as important as Pointer. He is tall, but not as tall as Middle. He tried to follow his brother Middle everywhere he went. If Middle wanted to stay in for the night, the Other Middle Finger would stay in as well. He would rather stay in the house bored, than to go out by himself. On some rare occasions, the Other Middle Finger would leave without Middle, but that would only be if their fifth brother, Pinky, was going. Pinky was stuck up, confusing his snobbish ways with class. He never wanted to be seen with his other brothers. When the other brothers would go out drinking, Pinky would never touch the wineglass or the bottle. That was beneath him. Pinky was also a ladies man that wore gaudy jewelry, and had this weird fetish about women kissing his jewelry. The Other Middle Finger never thought he had as much class as Pinky. Many times the Other Middle Finger contemplated suicide because he felt that he served no purpose in the family, after all, his parents weren't even creative enough to name him something original like his brothers. That is, of course until the Other Middle Finger fell in love. He found his soul mate, and now had a reason to live. He no longer needed his brothers for social acceptance. He found the woman that completed him. The Other Middle Finger, got married and decided to change his name. He was no longer in the shadow of his brother Middle. He had gained his own identity. He vowed to NEVER be called "the Other Middle Finger" again. And that is how the Ring Finger got his name.

Six-legged Terrorists

Flashback: The year is 1988. You are on the floor watching ThunderCats in your pajamas with the feet attached. You are lying on your stomach with your head resting on your hands, with your feet alternately kicking and crossing behind you. In front of you is a half eaten bowl of Cocoa Puffs that is now too soggy to be discernable. Your attention is solely on the television. An almost black, almond shaped, moving organism crawls across the burnt orange shag carpet and catches your peripheral. You look down, and a roach is crawling directly toward you. Fear moves you from your once stationary location to a full standing position, and though you realize you outweigh this insectuous (yes I made that word up) foe, he has effectively claimed his territory, punked you, and turns to crawl away.

Fast Forward to the present. When did these so-called "insects" gain the ability to fly? If the above scenario was to occur today, instead of turning to crawl away, the roach would now take flight towards the victim. This new form of intimidation has reached record highs. No one knows exactly what would happen if the roach ever met it's target, because the victims always escape the room, followed by high shrills and the type of cursing that ensues your mom walking barefoot through the kitchen after you spilled sugar on the floor and didn't completely clean the mess.

Have you ever been to someone's house that had roaches and had to act like you didn't see them? Your arm would be across the back of the couch and a roach would crawl down the wall and you had to discreetly slide your arm into your lap as to not embarrass your friend. What about that time you were all watching TV, and everyone was completely quiet watching a movie in the dark, and a small baby roach crawled across the screen? Didn't the air in the room get really thick because everyone wanted to act like it didn't really happen? (if you have never been to someone else's house that had roaches, then YOUR house was the one with roaches.) Or if someone was actually brave enough to call the host on their "insect problem" the response was always, "We've never had a roach problem here. You brought those with you."

Why do the 2000s versions of insects have such a vendetta? First the Fighter Pilot Roaches then the Suicide Bombers. I believe everyone more commonly refers to them as crickets. I was walking through the parking lot at work a few nights ago and there were 897987897456445 crickets hopping about. I tried my best to make the trek through the parking lot without stepping on any of these high jumpers. As I tiptoed from spot to spot the openings on the pavement were becoming scarce. I stepped on a cluster of crickets and heard five to six crunches. The other crickets heard this too and the once "almost" calm crickets began nose-diving into my bare legs. It felt as if a pitcher was throwing pennies at me. These little kamikazes actually hurt when they hit you. The cricket's cousins are really no better. The Photosynthesis Ninjas, I like to call them, or grasshoppers, don't like humans much either. They generally attack when you mow the yard. As you walk slowly behind the lawnmower and try your best to not pass out in the heat, these little grass dwellers lie dormant waiting on the most opportune time to strike. Once you move into range they leap from their spots, and cling to your shirt. No matter how many times you try to swat them away or off your shirt they never release their grip. You have to physically grab them and throw them back into the grass. I don't care how tough you think you are. When a grasshopper jumps on your shirt, you start flailing around like a new born baby in the deep end of a swimming pool. I think they are all six-legged Taliban soldiers sent here to destroy Americans but I have no proof of that, so I wouldn't go rush out and call CNN just yet if I were you. Freaking terrorists......