slippers all around!

It has come to my attention that I have a bunch of holidays, birthdays, and graduations coming up and this causes a panic in me. I need to give gifts for these occasions and I am the worst gift picker-outer ever.

Every once in a while I buy something for someone and it turns out to be exactly what they wanted or needed or had been dreaming about. But that's rare. And not likely to happen for these upcoming gift giving occasions. I hate to say it, but I'm just too busy to go scouring the city and internet for perfect gifts right now. (Let's overlook the fact that I obviously have the time to make pointless blog posts and could use that time to shop)

I do, however, have the time to pick out some pairs of slippers and ship them to the people that have gift getting occasions coming up and that plan is looking mighty appealing right now. Slippers plus gift receipts, that way the gift receiver can return them and get something else, something better. It's kinda like giving a gift card, but instead of saying "I'm too lazy to actually shop for something for you" (I feel like that's what gift cards say, although I love getting gift cards) they say "Look, I bought something for you! Even if it something you don't need or want! I was thinking of you, so please don't hate me!"

So if you get some slippers in the next month or so, please don't hate me. Check the package for a gift receipt and have fun shopping!

reasons why I've not been posting as frequently as usual

I'm busy

No, really I am. It's baseball season at work and that means I've actually got crap to do.

Not buying that? Okay, then how about I've been busy going to a crapload of concerts

And baseball games (I wish I had pictures posted to link to, but when I went to upload them flickr had a mild nervous breakdown)

And I've been really caught up in the whirlwind excitement of Diet Coke Plus. It has vitamins! And minerals! And tastes, umm, different! Not bad, but not good.

I've also been vacation planning. Jparks and I have decided to go to Hawaii, which means I need a bathing suit. What do you think of this one:
I know, I know, it's too awesome for words.

vanity, thy are expensive

Holy crap, yes this is another post about the stupid medicine I'm taking for my "adult acne".

This morning I feel like crap. The room is kinda doing a slow twirl thing and I keep wondering if I'm going to be given the privilege of puking up the All-Bran Honey Oat Bar I ate and then a round of dry heaves. Because nothing sounds like more fun that those things happening in the poorly sound-proofed bathroom in my office's building.

This medicine came with a warning that your stomach might get upset but, by eating a snack with it, this can be prevented. Last week I took the medicine every morning with a glass of water and my soy laced coffee. And every morning I was fine. Then on Saturday I did the same exact thing, but the nausea kicked in. It was bad enough that had to ask Whitney for some bread before we could leave her house to catch CalTrain up to the Giants game.

Sunday I took the medicine with some soy milk and Fruity Pebbles and all was good. I figured, from here, out food plus medicine was the way to go.

This morning I took the medicine with soy coffee and the All Bran bar. As I mentioned, I'm now wondering if I'll be seeing that bar again. The nausea keeps making me get up and walk to the bathroom, you know, just in case. My head hurts. I'm even feeling kinda dizzy in the way that the threat of puking makes you feel.

All of this delightful pukiness has me wondering if I'm willing to tolerate this for something as vain as clear skin. And honestly, after a week on this medicine I notice no difference in my complexion. I think I'm willing to tolerate the illness for another week or so to see if it or the acne clears up any. If both stick around though, I'm chucking this medicine before I upchuck my breakfast.

Get it? Chuck! Up chuck! At least when I'm feeling ill I can still make myself laugh.

I've got a fever, a circus fever

Because trapeze and trampoline were becoming routine and boring jparks and I signed up for some aerial acrobatics classes. (Have I mentioned that before? I don't think so) I've taken about 5 classes and jparks has taken 3 and our strength has doubled since we started. These classes are much harder than any of the others because you are literally throwing your weight around. And, besides adding muscle at a scary fast rate, the fat has started to disappear pretty quickly too. Yay for less fat!

Last night I brought the camera with me hoping I could snag some good shots of jparks in his sexy pants. (He can't wear regular workout pants for aerial. He should be in leggings, but that's not going to happen, so he wears tight-ish sweatpants that he can pull up over his chest. They have been named his "sexy pants" by some of our fellow gym goers. And sexy they are.) I managed to get some great shots of jparks trying various tricks and getting them on his first time and he got shots of me trying tricks for the third or fourth time and barely being able to complete them. Bastard has brute strength and I don't.

This first pose is called a bird's nest:


Here's my knee hang, which is so simple it almost seems like I'm cheating:


Here's jparks doing a split on the silks. I can do this too, but someone was too busy running around whining about how much he hates aerial to take my picture:


And here's me doing the hammock pose:


There are a ton more pictures here on my flickr account. Some are good, some are not, all are interesting and worth a laugh.

Also, the gym employees call us "the Newlyweds" as in Nick and Jessica. Should I be insulted? I'm hoping I'm Nick and jparks is Jessica, that's the only thing that makes sense, right?

I might as well attach an umbrella to my head

I mentioned in my last post that the new medicine I'm taking causes sun sensitivity. As I'm pretty sensitive to the sun on my own, I started to worry that with help I would turn into a pile of ashes in 30 seconds outside. So this weekend, I took matters in my own hands, and waged war against the sun and its damaging rays.

I use this lotion every day:

It has spf 15 in it, which is great for the winter, but I'm thinking I need more protection than that for the summer.

I then realized that my makeup also has spf 15 in it:


And while both of these, especially when used together, are great for a normal person, I felt like I needed more protection. Way, way more protection.

I headed directly to Target where, after scanning the face lotions, I was feeling a little discouraged. Most had spf 15 in them and none seemed to provide more than that. Are the pale girls of the world not supposed to go outside? Do we have to hide in the shadows and never enjoy the sun? That hardly seems fair.

But then I saw it, my lifesaver in a tube:


Spf 70. Hell yeah. I plan on using this religiously all summer and hope to make it to next fall as pale as I am now. Wish me luck.

I was sitting up perfectly straight while I typed this

Today I picked up a prescription that my dermatologist gave me for acne. Because at 27 my body has finally hit puberty. Maybe some day soon my boobs will sprout and my period will start. On that day I'll finally put away my well read copy of "Are You There God? It's Me Margaret."

When I picked up the prescription I asked the pharmacist if there were any drug facts I should know. The pharmacist seemed less than interested in talking to me so when I got back to work I looked the drug up online. Turns out it's mainly used to treat gonorrhea which explains why the pharmacist was ready to be rid of me. Anyway, besides learning about curing gonorrhea I found out I'm not supposed to recline for 90 minutes after taking this medicine.

Is it just me or does that seem like a weird drug warning? Do not recline, as in lay back, nap, enjoy the comforts of a La-Z-Boy, or lounge about on the beach while sipping pina coladas. The other warnings seemed pretty normal: sun sensitivity, avoid taking vitamins at the same time as the medicine, may cause nausea. But that 'no reclining' thing just really confuses me. How can reclining affect the medicine? My little mind can't handle this.

Now I'm worried because, dang, I want my acne to clear up, but I also want to recline. I love reclining! Reclining is one of my favorite hobbies. Without reclining I'm just a hollow shell of a person.

I also can't have dairy two hours before and two hours after taking the medicine. So if I take it in the morning I've got to skip my coffee. Lunch and dinner are risky because what if I opt for cheese on whatever I'm having. And bedtime is out thanks to no reclining.

So I ask you, when the hell am I supposed to take this medicine?

we didn't have a wedding reception so jparks wouldn't have to dance

10 years ago today jparks and I were gearing up to go to my Junior Prom. And by gearing up I mean he was probably sitting around with some boys scratching his balls and grunting. I was probably running around like crazy, making sure the stockings I had were the right color and my deodorant was the invisible kind.

I went to pick up jparks as I had a car and he didn't. We then went to a friend's house to meet up with everyone and hop on the limo bus that would later break down on the side of the road and we would all get locked out of. The boys would have to break in through a window and open the door for the girls while the driver was off somewhere calling his friends to say how lame it is to drive a bunch of pimply high schoolers around when he could be at home drinking beer and watching tv.

Once at the dance we will socialize, take pictures, and then the moment that will cause the demise of our relationship will happen. "Brown Eyed Girl" will begin to play and I will ask jparks to dace with me.

His dancing skills will piss me off as I assume he is dancing badly on purpose and making fun of me for wanting to dance. I will run off to cry in the bathroom as only a very emotional goth teenage girl can. After regaining my composer, I will go out and dump him. Although I don't remember dumping him that night. Maybe it happened the next day.

Somehow we will remain friends and bounce in and out of each others lives at various points in time. Of course, these points in time will not be convenient times for either of us to start dating each other again, nope, that would be too easy. Finally, after much bouncing, we will realize that we need to stop pretending and just get back together. A hurricane will try to prevent this, but we are stubborn and finally say "screw having the big wedding, let's go to Vegas."

10 years ago, I would have never believed that one day I would marry jparks. But I'm pretty damn happy that I did.

subtle change

Recently I've received a few emails from people that read this blog of my tiny thoughts and it seems people don't like to register to leave comments. I know it's a pain in the ass, but as the most nontechnical person to ever have a blog, I've been at jparks' mercy for comment moderation.

At least that's the way it was until the solution to my problem dawned on me: Just ask him to change the way comments work on your blog! Holy crap, I can do that! I can string words together in sentence form and ask my husband to fix my blog for me! I have the power!

So, we are now entering a new beta mode of Formation of Me. Comments will run differently for a little while or forever, depending on how much spam I have to moderate. If you've been itching to leave me a comment but never felt like registering, here's your chance.

Let the delurking begin!

you wanna know a secret?

No one tell jparks, but today I bought a dozen Cadbury Orange Creme Eggs at the post Easter candy clearance. And by a dozen I mean 14. My plan is to freeze them and eat one a month for the next year. I know a year is only 12 months long and I bought 14 eggs, but I'm bound to slip at least once. Or twice. The only thing that will prevent me from eating all of them at once is that they'll need to defrost (I'm going to keep them in the freezer) for full enjoyment. Although frozen creme eggs might be damn good during the summer.

Or I could go back for more eggs and make Cadbury egg ice cream. How good does that sound? All that work I've been doing at the gym is just so I can dream of this ice cream. oh Cadbury egg ice cream, I know we've never met but I love you so. In fact, I love you so much I have composed a haiku in your honor:

Ass not big enough
So Cadbury Egg ice cream
To the rescue, yay!

brains!

Happy Easter all!

Last year jparks and I started our favorite holiday tradition: Undead Easter. We sit around, eat candy, drink, and watch zombie movies. This year we expanded on this by inviting way more people than will fit in our apartment over for Undead Easter. I cooked, made a huge Easter basket, and watched as even more food rolled in.

We ran a bit short on zombie movies as I was more concerned with cooking and jparks had said he was going to handle getting more movies, but then forgot. We supplemented the zombie movies with Ricky Bobby and everyone seemed okay with this.

I'm happy to say that I'm sitting here with a pissed off stomach after eating nothing but cheese and candy all day, but am still quite content. I honestly like nothing more than having a bunch of friends over. I don't mind all the cooking, cleaning, and general hostess duties involved with it. Being surrounded by friends makes our year anniversary in this overpriced area, that's bound to fall into the ocean, a little bit easier to accept.

maybe not flying high

Lately I've been dreading going to trapeze. Dreading it enough that I think I'm going to not renew my card when this one runs out. Somewhere jparks just read that line and let out a "NOOOO!" all dramatic like.

See, I like trampoline and I like aerial acrobatics, but the trapeze is starting to wear on me. I like to improve in things and I'm not improving in it. Jparks says no one cares that I'm still kinda crappy (he was much nicer in his wording), but at each class I feel like my instructor is getting more and more pissed at me for remaining stagnant. Like I've decided to hold back my mad trapeze skillz just to piss her off. I'm not much for criticism, I can handle it if you sandwich it between two compliments, but since I suck she has nothing nice to say and it stings. And this is starting to make me dread going.

I know I can't be the best at everything I try, but I like to think I can at least not totally suck. I was under the impression that if I put in the effort, I'll excel at the task. And dammit, I've been putting in the effort. I do weights, I do cardio, I do crunches, I do squats, what more do I need to do? Where are the mad skillz? WHERE, I ask you.

So, really one of two things need to happen. Either I learn to be tough and take the instructors complaints about my lack of kicks or I say screw it, I'm going to have fun regardless of how well I swing and kick.

Of course, I could take the easy route and tell them I died in a freak trapeze practice accident and maybe my instructor shouldn't have pushed me so hard to achieve perfection. Let the guilt of my death plaque them the way the guilt of my suck-yness plaques me.

living large, French Laundry style

This weekend jparks and I went for a super fancy pants meal. How super fancy pants? Well, I got a $1000 bonus on Friday and after dinner I had $96 left. Oh hell yeah, that's how we roll.

We went to The French Laundry and it was incredible. In-freaking-credible. It's a dinner that must be experienced once in every lifetime. Despite the hefty bill I begged jparks to take me back in a few weeks (we got three reservations accidentally. This is quite the feat since it's nearly impossible to get even one.) Since jparks is the sensible one in our household (how scary is that?) he said no. Maybe in a few years. Maybe for a wedding anniversary. Maybe for my birthday. Maybe when we can actually afford it.

The meal was nine courses with a few surprises at the beginning and the end. Every course was a work of art, an edible, extremely tasty, work of art. Photographic evidence of this can been seen here.

The only bad thing about the dinner was the table of four lawyers directly behind us. They were loud and obnoxious and seriously wanted me to get up and slap the crap out of them. The more they drank the more celebrity names were dropped and eventually we had to hear about how one was made to drink Chek drinks instead of real Coke when she was a kid. Can you imagine?!? How does one grow up to be a functioning adult if all they're given is Chek drinks as a child? Her parents should have been reported for abuse.

After the initial sticker shock of the bill, I decided that I do not regret spending that much "making pooh" (my mom pointed that out) and, in the future, should anyone want to come visit and go to French Laundry, I'll totally go with you. We just can't tell jparks until after the meal.