Thanks a bunch!

Mother Nature has it out for me.

In addition to legs, arms and ribs that are still sore, a surprise case of pseudo-strep throat, a pile of brain melting, skin frying112* days, and a mini-tropical storm that took out power lines and cell phone towers, Shark Week** descended this morning and it's the worst pain I've gone through since I was 14.

I've been in a perma-bitch mood all day, which, I think is understandable and maybe even a little forgivable considering what's going on, so I'm finding things to make me laugh in order to lighten things up.   

Here's what I've found so far:

--"Beauty and the Beat"

3 people sent this to me yesterday, and I'm still lol-erskating to it--mostly because it reminds me of my freshman year of college.



--"Death Star Canteen"

because there's nothing better than Eddie Izzard, unless it's Eddie Izzard talking about Star Wars.

--"Star Wars I Used to Know"

I'm ashamed to admit that I've been singing this in my head all day.




--The Blurry Adventures of Landmass Lucy vs. Cup-a-Noodle

**** this.

alright, back to my Arrested Development and writing marathon weekend.

**best euphemism for menstruation I've heard since I was 14.
***awkward.

Killing Myself

My super pal Kristin is one of those "good at everything she tries" people. She's a cook, an artist, a fashion designer, an award winning costume maker, a talk you down from the ledge-er and just an all around crazy talented, big hearted woman.

And this is what she does for exercise:

Kristin doing her thang

Aerial Silks! Like fancy circus performers! It's basically performing gymnastics while being wrapped in silk streamers and suspended in the air above a safety mat.

For months now, she's worked on convincing me to come to class with her and try it out. And it did sound like fun, especially since she and three of our friends go to the same class and have a good time coaching each other and trying out new poses. But, knowing the limits to my natural grace and athletic ability and lack of not being accident prone (all those limits are at zero, btw), I politely declined.

With the exceptions of horse back riding, swimming, and competitive napping, I'm not very athletic. I can't walk a big flight of stairs without getting winded. I can't catch or throw. I can't run and kick at the same time. I suck at math. I'm also almost 5'10", have no center of gravity, and haven't been flexible enough to do a sit and reach since I was 5. So, I abstain from anything sporty.

However, the better Kristin got at silks, and the more pics she and Tini and Kate posted of them looking amazing all knotted up and fancy looking, the more intrigued I became. So, curiosity finally got the better of me, and on Wednesday I tagged along to class.

And I knew I would like it when we walked into the gym and a dog greeted us:

Nahla, guardian of the silks

 
After signing a bunch of "I will not sue you" paperwork, we had a warm up that left me sore and aching, and feeling whiter than I've ever felt. And then, I had to learn how to climb. How to climb up silk.

Sheeeeit.

Don't let anyone tell you that shit is easy. I never had to do the "climb the rope" exercise in gym, and I suffer from T-Rex arms syndrome, so this was insanely difficult. After I figured out the foot hold, I made it like, 3 feet off the ground before my arms went spaghetti noodle and I fell off.

victory!

I tried a few tricks, but I kept falling out of the silks, and I couldn't do a tumble (big surprise!). Mostly because I'm a newbie. But mostly, it's because I have no center of balance or upper body strength and I kept rolling to the side. Kristin and Tini, however, climbed up the silks like a couple of  professional badasses, and Kristin conquered a really awesome pose all on her own:

All in all, I had a really fun experience. The teacher was really chill, the ladies were great, and even though I didn't really achieve much, I left wanting to come back again. It's kinda like rock climbing: I like doing it, but I suck at it, and I'd rather not do it when a bunch of badasses are around me, waiting for their turn.

The only thing that sucks though, is the aftermath. As in, how sore I am today, two days later. It's like every single muscle in my body is getting together and screaming at me.

Everyday Things I Can't Do Now Without Crying
-get in and out of cars
-walk
-lift a cup full of coffee
-open envelopes
-bend down
-lift Lucy onto the bed
-cover myself with a blanet
-type
-brush my teeth
-open bottles
-put on pants
-eat a grilled cheese sandwich
-turn the pages in the latest US weekly


I can't remember another time in my life where I've been so sore. Going to work yesterday was the most excruciating experience I've had all year. And to top it all off, I woke up this morning with a sore throat, an upset stomach and now I'm running a baby fever.

this is my body telling me that exercise is bad, guys. 

Holy Delayed Post, Batman

It's been one of those weeks where being an adult sucks and I had to make questionable, tough cuts in my life (including quitting my job--long story) in order to keep bettering myself. So I'm exhausted.

But there are some good things.


It was like, 50* last night, so I slept with the windows open. And when I woke up at 12:30, it was still brisk and breezy. I took an editing test today while sitting out on the deck, and I definitely needed a sweat shirt after 30 minutes. I wish the entire summer would be this beautiful, but I'll relish it until Thursday, when the 100* temps and the 900% humidity come roiling back in.

Also, I can't remember the last time I slept past noon. I forget that it cuts your day in half.

also, also, what is this and how can I get one?

what a delicious injection

I've been listening to lots of stand up, including Patton Oswalt:

"Physics for Poets." I love it.

I made a 101 Things in 1000 days list of goals that I'll likely never achieve. But it's nice to have them documented, for strategic guilt purposes.

I'm teaching myself how to make a loose ribbed scarf, like this one:

but so far, it's pretty difficult to figure out. 

I'm also in the mood for cake. So I think I'll bake one. And listen to this song non-stop:

Because there's nothing I like better than baking and eating a cake while listening to Cake.

Also, the best (worst?) part of sleeping with the windows open and then spending most of your waking day outside is when you get so inflicted with allergies that your brain fogs up and you post random, light headed, dizzy entries like this that serve no real purpose.

take that, bandwidth I don't pay for!

Weekends with Lobo

 

I got to spend my "No Real Pants Weekend" (i.e., the one weekend in June where I didn't have any plans, and therefore spent 56+ hours in pajama's, even if I left the house) with my brother Josh's rescue dog, Lobo. Aka, Robo Cop, Lobo-Tron, Lobiticus, Land o'Lobo, Lobo Lakes, Lobo-Raptor, Hobo Lobo, LoboOboBoBoSh'laMobo, etc.

Josh and his wife rescued Lobo a few years ago. He was found at 6 weeks old in a rancid, flooded basement with the rest of his litter. From the best they can tell, he's a shepherd/rottweiler mix, and his screaming shrieking howl is terrifying (when he's scared, he basically sounds like a girl getting raped in a park. Not that I know what that sounds like. I'm just guessing. Wow, what an awkward analogy.)

 

 He's almost 5 now, but he still has the energy of a puppy. He's ginormous, has raptor claws, is funny and oh so lovable, takes all our stairs in one single bound, leaps like a gazelle, and is just happy to be alive. And while I love Josh like crazy, I think I love my dog-nephew more. 

 

So I spent a bunch of my weekend writing, playing with Lobo, and taking 7000 pictures of him.

 

 

 

raptor claw!

 

 Lucy, on the other hand, did not have any fun with Lobo. In fact, it's safe to say that she sees Lobo as a clumsy, lumbering jackass. She literally spent the entire weekend looking like this:

 

Now, I know what you're thinking. Audrey, she *always* looks like she's on the verge of suicide or cardiac arrest. But, to the discerning eye, the above picture is one of a basset hound who sees me getting excited over another dog, and has perceived herself to be replaced, abandoned, and unloved for eternity. She didn't even cheer up when I decorated her with Star Wars figurines:

 

"I do say sir, this terrain does seem rather... ruff."

and now that Lobo's gone, Lucy has reclaimed her territory--laying in front of my open door like some kind of basset bouncer:

Spending time with Lobo reminded me of spending time with Bart, which was really bittersweet. From barking his balls off at strangers, to sneaking food off the counter (Lobo absconded with 2 whole sticks of butter, 3 muffins, and half a pb&j), to making the grossest sound ever while cleaning himself, and even his long legged prancy gait, I couldn't help but think of Bart and miss him terribly.

Let's just file that under the "break ups suck" category.

And, onto cheerier topics!

My parents were watching Shayne's kids this weekend. And on Saturday morning, Grey and I had some quality time while Neve slept in, wherein I introduced him to The Simpsons.

And he loved it! He sat down and watched, engrossed and laughing, through 6 straight episodes while I cleaned the kitchen. And when the disc was over, he reminded me every 45 seconds that I needed to change the DVD. It's cool to think that he's 5 and appreciating The Simpsons. It's even more cool to think that I was 5 when I started watching them. And, that fact just aged me another 20 years.

laughing at Grounds Keeper Willy

And then we had a photo shoot, because Grey is an eternal camera ham, just like his dad. 

Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory, anyone?

"take one of my turtle's butt!"

My nephew is awesome.

I also died my hair near-black,

and made a questionably good coconut cream pie from the Back in the Day Bakery cookbook.

I say questionable because I made the filling twice, following the directions precisely, and it still wouldn't firm up. I think it's something to do with the double boiling process, which I'm still not comfortable with. Also, more than 3 bites of this pie is enough to send you into a diabetic coma. I ate a whole piece and saw stars and couldn't feel my legs for 4 hours. It's dangerous.

Basically, my weekend was exceedingly lazy and dog-filled and then there was a delicious father's day BBQ at Lance and Mary's house.

That's a good weekend in my book.

This blog is bordering dangerously close on "Sad Woman Who Only Blogs About Dogs". I promise to post a blog with some kind of substance** soon, I promise.

**this is funny, because it implies that I typically post meaningful, worthwhile blogs.

There's Nothing New Under the Sun

Two odd confidence slighting instances happened this week.

Monday, on Girls, the opening scene was almost identical to a short story I wrote in 2009.

Today, Thought Catalogue posted this essay about brunch, which is eerily similar, but vastly superior to the essay on brunch that I was going to finish and submit to TC tonight. 


This means one of these things:

1. It's feasible that I have an audience
2. I'm a hack

Waiting

The young guy, in his bright blue collared shirt looks at me apologetically and says "Actually, your phone isn't ready to be picked up. Sorry you had to wait so long in line."

"It's ok."

It's not like I'm ever not waiting on something.

Waiting in traffic. Waiting for traffic to break. For payday. For the coffee to brew. For a program to download. For my souffle to rise. For my dog to pee. For my 3 year old niece to eat her breakfast. For commercials to be over. For rambly voicemails to end. For the gas tank to fill up. For the bartender to make my drink. For the phone to stop ringing. For the end of twenty minutes on the elliptical. For a blue line to appear. For bacon to finish frying. For my refund to come in. For my bangs to grow out. For Dark Knight Rising. For my bruises to heal. For a phone call. For a text message. For the McRib. For the laundry to finish. For forgiveness. For apathy. For snow fall. For my lunch break. For zits to heal. For vacation. For my computer to boot up. For blu-rays to load. For the cat to stop walking across my lap. For the series finale of The Killing. For math to make sense. For the dishes to soak. For cures. For medicine to kick in. For my credit card to be paid off. For packages to arrive. For courage. For ramen to boil. For satisfaction. For the end of another season. For bedtime.

We are waiting. This is what we do.

I walk back to my car, start the engine, and wait for the car to warm up.

Last Week: The Highlights

seeing this face...

precludes seeing this mess (side note: really, Lucy? corn meal?)

my nephew Grey graduated kindergarten

my niece Neve's fantastic hair

who doesn't want to ride the Du Du Train?

new jobbing, ie: marketing!

the view from my office, and the creepy picture my boss gave me

This. This is a face you can trust. #supBaltimore

fighters

PLEASE DON'T EAT ME

NO CAN DO, CRAB.

natty Pro, ie. Premium National Bohemian

my home girls Cindy and Scott

Neve, teh serious one

poke cake: delicious as hell

mosquito bites are a sonnnnnofabitch

"no body likes us, every body hates us"

so sad, you sad basset.

we took mom to Art & Soul for her an early birthday present

where I ate chicken & waffles like a champion

 

my mom's parents (front) doing it up, Madmen style

Also:

Prometheus: more like, Pro-NO-theus. I can't even begin to describe how disappointed I was. Except for Michael Fassbender. Oh yes. Michael Fassbender.

mmmmhmmm

yay, last week is over. Thank gods.