Come Cop A Squat

Totally ripping off the whole “If We Were Having Coffee/Wine/Maragaritas” thing, come along with me, and let’s go cop a squat under a tree.  HA!

Oh Black Dog, you kill me!

Oh Black Dog, your rhyming skills kill me!

Since I hate coffee, but have recently discovered a new-found love for Dunkin’ Donuts Dunkaccinos, let’s go grab a non-earth friendly styro cup, our dogs, a couple dozen tennis balls, and venture over to the nearest dog park.  You never know what you may find out.

hmmm

If we were to cop a squat – you would discover that I have absolutely no people skills whatsoever.  Unless we’re talking about Disney, running, dogs, or wine, I’m a total shallow pool of nothing much interesting to say.

If we were to cop a squat – you would find that I have turned into a total wine glass snob.  Yes, wine glass.  And I can totally pan this weirdness off my hubby and besties.  The same ones who used to pick on me for drinking sweet white wines and continue to make the face when I put ice in my wine.  BECAUSE THAT IS HOW I ROLL.

You put what in your where?!?

You put what in your where?!?

If we were to cop a squat – you would find out that I can listen to just about any music out there.  Just about.  Classical, metal, reggae, pop, rap, compas, movie soundtracks…..you name it, I can handle it.  I can even take country but only in small doses.  But when something hits my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, I react almost violently.  Deservedly so in this case…

swift sucks

If we were to cop a squat – you would find that up until nine years ago, I felt as though my life was flying by me like an Amtrak train and I wasn’t on it.  What happened nine years ago?  I met this UH-MAZE-ING dude, who showed me that life is a whole lot more than someone’s career, and that pushing your comfort zone isn’t as scary as it sounds.  And for that, I am as grateful as Wonder Mutt is for jumping in a lake.

whooooo  hooooooo!!!!!!!

whooooo hooooooo!!!!!!!

If we were to cop a squat – you would discover that I have crazy body image hangups, (who doesn’t?), as much as I try not to be I’m miserable if I can’t run, and if everything goes as planned with KneeGate2015 Part II, then the item on my bucket list that reads “complete a full marathon”, may just get checked off. {gulps}

If we were to cop a squat – you would find that I’m at my most content crashed on the couch at this little tiki bar I know, hubs on one side, Wonder Mutt on the other with her chin resting on my lap, binge-watching Game of Thrones, World Cup Soccer, or the Olympics.  Even the funny pants wearing events.

Best. Pants. Ever.

Best. Pants. Ever.

So if I haven’t bored you to tears by this point, and our mutts have sufficiently destroyed every tennis ball within a 15 mile radius, I think you’d find I’m pretty much your average, street-level introvert, who can be pretty damn quirky.  I love my Springsteen and Bon Jovi, my Moose Tracks and my margaritas, my running and my dog.  I have incredible friends both domestic and abroad, and have come to appreciate that it’s better to have a few great friends, than numerous casual buddies.  I have the world’s most amazing husband who puts up with my psycho-ness and buys me fuzzy animal slippers any time I want.  I’ve learned that animals live too short, fat cells hang around too long, and it’s better to live life balls-to-the-wall instead of watching it pass you by.

And that my dear readers, is why we should gulp down the Dunkaccinos, and go jump in the water.

WITH the dogs.

splash dog

No. Explanation. Needed.

Enjoy the ride.

Does any of this surprise you?  What would I learn about you over cappuccino and soggy tennis balls?

Random Randomness

I just realized it has been a really long time since I treated all of you to the random tornadic-game-show-dollar-machine-whirlwind that is my brain.

Remember me?

Remember me?

I now you’re all just chomping at the bit to see what’s been flying around in there.  Far be it for me to deprive you of such idiotic interesting musings.  Let me just throw a disclaimer in here that I cannot be held responsible for the following drivel.  It just falls out of my brain all on its own.  No assistance needed.

brain vomit

1.  Sometimes I just want to do this to my previous home state in the middle of a polar vortex.  Just because I can.

Nah nah nah nah nah nah.  Nah.

Nah nah nah nah nah nah. Nah.

2.  I REALLY hate those itty bitty bugs that love to fly right in your face.

Stupid bugs.

Stupid bugs.

3.  The hubby likes to beep the horn whenever we drive by cows on our way to Disney.  He says they’re lonely and like the interaction.

Captain! I just don't know!

Captain! I just don’t know!

4.  We live on a lake that is the winter residence to flocks of coots.  They like to all float together in a big bunch in the middle of the lake at night.  It’s creepy.  Like a bad Hitchcock spoof movie kind of creepy.

Hey Harry!  Check out that hottie over there to your right!  The one with the really sexy beak!

Hey Harry! Check out that hottie over there to your right! The one with the really sexy beak!

5.  Wonder Mutt leads a charmed life.

Leave me alone.  I'm meditating.

Leave me alone. I’m meditating.

6.  I’m SICK of having knees.

Who needs you anyway?!?

Who needs you anyway?!?

7.  What do you think is going on in that head?

(insert Scooby Doo huh? here)

(insert Scooby Doo huh? here)

8.  Who was the idiot who said if a bird poops on you, you’ll have good luck?  I’m thinking you’ll just have a dirty shirt.

Ew.  Just.  Yeah.  Ew.

Ew. Just. Yeah. Ew.

So there you have it.  The top issues that are occupying my brain these days.  Aren’t you just absolutely thrilled I had the foresight to share them with you?  I feel so much less brain cluttered now.  Thanks.

 

Enjoy the ride.

Ever just feel the need to just pull the brain drain plug and let all the miscellaneous crap just come pouring out?  Feel better when you do?  What’s your opinion on the whole bird poop issue?

What Do You Do When You Don’t Play Well With Others?

A question I ask myself often.

This is me.

child-play2

Well, not me EXACTLY, but you get the idea.  It’s not that I don’t play well with others, it’s just that I don’t…well…DO well with others.  I just don’t GET people.  Remember this?  Innate shyness and socially challenged is definitely part of my genetic makeup.  From where, I’m not really sure, as the rest of my siblings are pretty good at the whole blahblahblah thing.  I bring this up now for a couple of reasons.

I’m currently following the adventures of Stephanie as she gets ready to take on Part Two of her #marathonpalooza madness.  As she globe-trots from Orlando to Chicago to Orlando to Quantico to Orlando to NYC, back to Orlando for the Wine and Dine, and finally closing out the year with the Space Coast Marathon, I wonder first, how the HELL is she going to survive the insanity, and second, how would I handle going all those places and NOT KNOWING NARY A SOUL.  I can tell you.

Now where's my blankie?

Now where’s my blankie?

The second reason this popped out of my game show dollar machine brain is this: my torture master massage therapist Janet was telling me about this running group she ran into (pun intended) purely by accident a few weeks ago.  Hash House Harriers, an international running group, seems to have made its way to my area.  “Drinkers with a running problem” is their tagline, (how could you not love that?), and a group I could possible relate to.  Except for one little bitty problem.  GROUP.  E-GADS, how I hate that word.

scared Jerry

Aaaagggghhhhh!!!!

Now let there be no mistake.  I’ll talk to just about anyone after a little liquid courage is involved, but that’s not always conducive at the starting line.  Or the finish line if you think about it.  As much as I try, I just don’t have that innate ability to strike up a conversation with another living, breathing human being.  Now put a pooch in my path, and I’ll yak to them all day long.  But put good ol’ homo sapiens in my path, and I put on my best clam imitation.

Who me?  Noooo, you couldn't be talking to ME?

Who me? Noooo, you couldn’t be talking to me!

I really don’t know what the point is that I’m trying to make, except to say, how the heck do you DO it?  How does one strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger and not have them look at you like you’re a complete idiot?  Okay, idiot factor aside here, I constantly wonder at people’s ability to do just that.  I have heard the most hilarious conversations started in of all places, the mile long lines for those god-awful porta-potties at the start of the Wine and Dine every year.  But if you think about it, what better place to hit it off with complete strangers than standing in line, trying not pee your drawers, and actually TALKING about it??  Some places just incite the no shame rule.

Yes, you actually can Google Portapotties at Disney races and get boatloads of pictures.  Disturbing to say the least.

Yes, you actually can Google Portapotties at Disney races and get boatloads of pictures. Disturbing to say the least.

So I guess the best advice I can give myself – and you – is next time we find ourselves flying solo at a race, just hang out in the bathroom lines.  Guess you’ll never know who you may run into.  Hey, Kara and Shalane have to go at some point, don’t they???

karaandshalane

Hi ladies!

 

Enjoy the ride.

Ever find yourself  holding back from joining a group because you’re just too shy?  Did you do anything about it?  Were you glad you did or did you feel like a total schmuck the entire time?

Confessions

There’s a few things I’ve been wanting to get off my mind.  And lucky you get to be the recipient of said brain vomit.  Feeling honored?

Hang on…this could get ugly.

Confessions

NBA free agency.  People – Get. Over. It.  When these guys want you to know where they’re going to play, THEY WILL TELL YOU.  Until then, try talking about something else.  It’s not like there’s nothing else going on in the world of sports.  Perhaps you might have heard about a little soccer match in Brazil or some hellacious hills in Europe?

Sports Events

The Great Male/Female Dupa Debate.  Always a great way to pass the time on the ARC trainer.  The hubs and I have very VERY differing ideas on what constitutes an attractive lower region.  Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not like we go around checking out every butt in existence.  We do, however, have some spirited debates about the male species obsession with said anatomical part.  Take for instance, yesterday.  Said hubby spies a rather rotund bottom at the gym and voices his “appreciation” for said dimensions.  I, on the other hand, responded with a look not unlike this:

incredulous

Grocery Shopping. It’s simple.  I’m not allowed.  I throw stuff in the cart that’s….wait for it….NOT ON THE LIST.  Oh, the horror.  Plus I would buy everything at Whole Foods aka Whole Paycheck putting said aforementioned dupas in the poor house.  Which would more than likely result in me getting above noted look from said hubby.

Mornings. This is simple.  I hate them.  Violently.  Hubby wakes up like this.  ‘Nuff said.

Rocket_Launch_Wallpapers

Golf, Tennis, Vollyball. I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out with pliers than have to watch these sports.  On the flip side though, as I always like to see the positive in everything, these rock if you suffer from insomnia.

zzzzzz,zzzzzz,zzzzzz

zzzzzz,zzzzzz,zzzzzz

And the one that I’m sure many of you can relate to…The Great Peanut Butter Debate.

PB

Creamy.  Hands down.

 Enjoy the Ride.

Anything you feel like confessing this fine Tuesday?