Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Adventure Bowl
Face Your Damn Fears!

When we are kids we have no fears. I can still remember ripping down my hill in a Hulk Big Wheel going what seemed 55mph without a care in the world.

Now, I have the weirdest fears, like Halloween and the ocean. Halloween because it makes no sense to, in the dark, tempt perfect strangers wearing masks with chocolate covered candy so they can come into your house to bound, gag and rob you. (Yes, I have a very active imagination!)

And imagine all the energy they'll have after they've eaten the Almond Joy you gave them.

My fear of the ocean is completely unclear as I was once a lifeguard and ya know, was charged with rescuing drowning beach people.

But the whole idea of this Adventure Bowl is to overcome fears and reignite things on the "to-do" of life. Knowing that by doing so will lead to a happier me.

So when I picked "Today you will paddle board," I secretly cringed because I'd have to do it in the ocean. Where sharks live. Where your legs sometimes dangle into the ocean where sharks live while you're getting the board out there. (There, the ocean... where sharks live.)

I hear they like to snack on your legs. That's what I learned during "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel.

But fear has really gotten the best of me. And this time, I was determined to overcome it...

So I went down to the ocean and rented all my gear. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit the whole idea of paddle boarding came to me while I was watching an episode of "Iconoclasts" with Eddie Vedder and Laird Hamilton. As I watched Eddie Vedder (who's music I love, but he is a known pouter) paddle board in Hawaii and smile a smile where you can almost measure JOY, I thought, "That's for me, I gotta do that."

The gear is awkward because you want a really long board, then you want some paddles and then in front of TOTALLY HOT SURFERS you have to get all this gear out, far in the ocean and past the breaks.

You kind of have to think that no one is looking at you. Like dancing in public. If I think that it looks all spastic and someone is likely to just call 911 as a precaution, then I don't dance.

And here, I didn't think about how, I could NOT look less like I knew what I was doing. But I did it anyway.

You would be AMAZED how much stamina it takes to drag yourself around on a board. It looks so easy but it's hard! You're supposed to have something called "abs" that I do not seem to possess. But there was this infinite quietness and sense of how small I seemed to be in the world.

And that's something I needed.

That and to just laugh at how NOT strong I am. Or coordinated. Do you know what it's like to just stand up, on a board, paddle really hard and then not get anywhere? I just felt ridiculous. And it felt like life, how I am often trying to push through something when I should just... I don't know, sit there and wait for it to blow over.

So I did a lot of sitting. And I'll admit, not a lot of leg dangling was going on. I did not "dangle the leg snacks." That's what's great about a 6ft board... you can sit and lay down.

Mostly, I thought, "I did it" when I could have stayed home, could have just been watching TV or hanging out and instead I got in a hideous bathing suit, carried a huge cumbersome board out to the ocean of death (yeah, I can be waaaay dramatic) and tried something new.

And faced a fear. Will I do it again? Absolutely. As soon as I have abs. Then definitely, again.

This blog is dedicated to land sharks.


Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Adventure Bowl
Will My Catholic Guilt Make Me Crack?

Sometimes in the life of the Adventure Bowl, it's not so much the adventure that's the story, but what happens after the adventure that's the story.

Yes, I may have test drove that Porsche as a way to put some sparkle and spontaneity into a life that was feeling a little routine and stale. But I was never planning on buying it. Come on! I was carrying an Old Navy bag as a purse for god's sake!

But apparently Scott from Porsche World is not taking "No" for an answer - repeatedly calling me and wanting to talk about my options about "little or no money down."

Which has my interest peeked because I totally have "little or no money down" to spend. And the streamlined body of that Boxster seemed to make my upper arms so much less jiggly...

And I wonder, say if a bought said Porsche and it was all a way to avoid the Catholic guilt of lying during the test drive, if there might be some tax write-off involved. Especially if I could find a bumper sticker that said, "Driving in Luxury for Jesus." That's charitable, right?

Scott keeps calling. Home, cell, email. I can't help thinking, I've certainly been pressured into more things only to come out with less (and yes, I mean exactly what you're thinking... unless your thinking something gross, then no, not what you're thinking. Wait, what are you thinking?)

I was going to post this tonight with more detail but my adventure for this evening involves scrubbing off my weekend spray tan and having my Catholic guilt assuaged by drinking imported beer. I'm determined to figure out how many Happy Hour beers can be drunk in a lady like way in under two hours.

I'm thinking three.

This blog is dedicated to the beauty that is, the Black and Tan.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Facebook Makes Me Feel Weird

Two things I never thought I'd do: Blog or be on Facebook. Or have a threesome. So three things. All three make me feel weird.

Two I've done (Blog and be on Facebook) and the other that I haven't, that just makes me feel creepy and want to go to confession for even thinking about.

So the thing about Facebook - I always thought it was lame and when people would ask me, "Why aren't you on Facebook?" I'd say, "Because I'm not thirteen."

And I would say it like a bitch!

But then, my friend had her Facebook up on her computer and all of a sudden it was three hours later and I had peered into the lives of every person I ever loved, hated, worked with, wished was my boyfriend, had an unfortunate sexual experience with, dreamed about, lost my virginity to, drank under the table or threw up on.

It's crazy!

And it's all out there. Where they live, who they're living with, what they're doing, who they're doing it with and the photos - OH, THE PHOTOS!

Look who lost his hair, look who gained weight, look who should rethink culottes. Look who got a guy way hotter than she is and look who has an ugly kid.

The total lack of privacy is totally "nut-so" but kind of fantastic.

So I dipped my toe in, I threw up a page. The weird thing is, I'm at a cross roads. There seems to be this huge competition, like, who can have the most friends. I have friends that have 150 friends and friends that have 300 friends. I have friends that add all their work friends, bosses and company management too.

But that seems INSANE. Do I really want my boss, my boss' boss and their boss to know "I'm not eating a Lean Cuisine and watching 'Gossip Girl' no matter what anyone told you." (Go ahead, you can take that one). Or "I'm trying to put lipstick on a Chihuahua and it's more difficult than you think." (Not really funny but says I'm up on politics).

Or "That Ambien sure goes down nicely with two Cadaliac Margaritas!"


So I've held myself back, just adding the people I talk to all the time to which means... I probably don't need a Facebook page.

But hey, that's what works for me. And in the end, if I just have my profile up to check in on friends from high school and college, that's cool with me. It's so nostalgic and beautiful to see the people I care about with BFs, GFs, houses and great jobs, beaming back from a little JPEG. To see my relatives and cousins, all the way across the country, so far away but I can feel a little closer because I can see their circle of friends...

And for the spying, you totally have to have an account for the spying.

So what do you think about Facebook? Are you into putting it all out there or holding something back? Oh, and if you have a good Facebook story - stalking or embarrassing, I DEFINITELY want to know it.

This post is dedicated to being incognito.


Saturday, September 6, 2008

It's Very Important to Me That The Cashier At 7-11 Thinks I'm Going Out Dancing Tonight

This week has been a whirlwind. I had two big projects due on Friday, one at 3:00pm and one at 4:30pm and once they were done all I could think was, "I'm gonna get crazy tonight!"

Only, I didn't get crazy because on my way to get crazy, I locked my steering wheel and my car wouldn't work and all I could think of was, "Now you can't go anywhere and you're really going to regret not going grocery shopping this week and at least picking up toilet paper!"

I came back in the house and I was sure that there had to be some kind of celebratory liquid (i.e. alcohol) that I could get my mitts on. I found a bottle of organic wine that literally, literally could have filled... I don't know, something frickin' small... so small, I didn't even bother wasting a glass on it.

I just uncorked the bottle and took the smallest, saddest chug out of it that I could.

I probably could have gotten a bigger buzz off gargling with some Listerine.

I'm classy.

So then, I'm all about, "Saturday night! Saturday night will be awesome! I'll dress up, I'll wear mascara. I'll drink a fifteen dollar glass of wine before switching to domestic beer to save money for cab fare! I'm gonna get ripped!"

So classy.

But then all last night I'm all super amped and can't sleep and it might have something to do with having, like, a sextriplet espresso at Starbucks so I could power through the day and make all my deadlines and I actually barely drift off at 3:00am but my dog needs to go out at 5:00am (and I think after my last post you know I'm not taking any chances with him...)

So my super deep REM doesn't even come until after 5:30am but I wanna get back on schedule so I get up at a decent hour this morning only to be in a semi-conscious state all day.

And that's when, tonight, after treating myself to four "30 Rocks" back to back on my computer, I see that it's 6pm and I start thinking, "Can I just please go to bed now? Please."

Who would know?

I WOULD KNOW! I need to go out, I need to socialize, celebrate, wear something with non-elastic pants! I need my hair to be down, my eyes to be swathed in sparkle, I need to hear good music and laugh 'til I semi-snort.

Oh, but I'm so tired. So you know what I do?

I'm wicked hungry and I'm madly craving going to McDonalds and getting a kid's meal. That's what I do. Four chicken McNuggets, small fry and a lemonade. That's my Saturday night.

I'm kidding. That would be pathetic if that were my Saturday night.

Okay, that was totally my Saturday night.

And as I'm digging into my meal and I realize that they forgot to put bar-b-que sauce in with my meal (which let's face it - it's all about the bar-b-que sauce. The nuggets are just a mechanism to get the bar-b-que sauce into my mouth.)

So then I'm like, "I'm totally writing a letter to McDonald's about how completely incompetent they are." But then it occurs to me that the only thing sadder than eating a Happy Meal on a Saturday night, is admitting that you ate a Happy Meal on a Saturday night.

"Let it go," I told myself. "You have so many YouTube videos to watch tonight."

Then THAT thought made me even sadder so I stopped at my 7-11 to pick up a bottle of wine and all of a sudden it became very important to me that the cashier think that this bottle of wine was a HUGE precursor to my night of dancing and debauchery.

"I'm just gonna have a few friends over tonight to have a little of this Shiraz and then we're gonna get CW-AZY!"

I didn't say that. Saying that is like admitting: "I'm really going home to drink this wine alone out of a coffee cup while I watch videos of cats play with rolls of toilet paper."

So instead, I did the thing where, as he's ringing up my wine, I'm scraping the price tag off the bottle, which we all know is code for: "I'm on my way to a party."

Do you think he bought it? I think he totally bought it.

This blog is dedicated to hamsters.