Adventure Bowl Let's Pretend We're Brides!

Is your life stale? Boring? Are you stressed? Job, boyfriend, back fat got you down?

Then you need to pose as a bride because everyday in a bride's life is filled with sunshine, light and people falling all over you because you're special!

Let me back up... about a year ago, I went out for a girls night in which I thought we'd laugh, cocktail and flirt with boys.

But it only ever takes one girlfriend to ruin everything.

This girl wanted to talk about her wedding. (Eye roll) She swore she was "never one of those girls who really cared what kind of wedding she was going to have," yet the gigantic white binder that she lugged to the bar that contained all things wedding, begged to differ.

I waffled between faking an illness or drowning my boredom in another overpriced cocktail but I quickly perked up when I discovered this little fun fact:

Cake shops give wedding cake samples for FREE out to future brides.

Are you kidding? Not only do these women get toasters and salad bowls, regular married sex but they also get free cake? No way. I mean, what do these marrieds give back to society that I don't?

I WANT FREE CAKE SAMPLES!

So I was totally psyched when I pulled the Adventure of posing as a bride for a day out of the Bowl. First, I whipped out my phone and my list of cake shop numbers and I worked the lines like I was trying to resolve a hostage crisis. This, after all, was very important work.

I had my whole cover story down. When was I getting married? October 25. Where would the happy event take place? Saddle Rock Ranch in Malibu. (They have horses there!) Who was the lucky man? George Kennedy. Not sure who that is, but I always wanted to marry a Kennedy.

And now I was.

Now here's the shocking revelation. No one cared. No one questioned. I was allowed, even encouraged, to just, "Swing by and pick up your complimentary box."

The added, "No appointment necessary," was like a lemon cake with raspberry filing practically begging me to, "Leave the car running and come and get me."

So I did. To one place and then two. I didn't even have to dress up. My cute matching track suit, wrap around sunglasses and knock-off designer bag gave me the quintessential, "Overwhelmed Bride On The Run" look I was going for.

I met up with my good friend and partner in crime so we could plot our next move. She asked that I please stop calling her my Maid of Honor. I told her if she wanted free cake, she would do as she was told.

Cake has a very powerful hold on people.

The next natural move, seemed to be to go to Beverly Hills and try on wedding dresses. But unless they're tea length, hot pink and bedazzled, bridal gowns aren't really for me. I'm more of a non-traditional girl. So instead, we decided to get our nails done "bridal style."

Not sure what that means, but I expect it to be free.

Then we would like to partake in some hors d'over-ing and complimentary champagne from hotels we were considering for catering. No wonder some people get married like five times!

We cruised over to a very chi-chi nail salon and let them know, I was getting married and would like a "complimentary" manicure pedicure. And I would like it away from the "common" people. Perhaps they have a VIP area?

NAIL SALON LADY: "That will be fifty five dollars."

"There must be a language barrier," I assured my Maid of Honor who wanted to get the hell out of there, fast. I turned to the Nail Salon lady and mustered all the courage I could.

ME: "I'm the bride, so... I get things for free... and on the wedding day, if I like the way you've done my nails, I'll bring you a lot of business."

NAIL SALON LADY: (EYE ROLL) "Fifty five dollars."

Seems my plan was foiled by a lady in floral polyester. Whatever. Time for free champagne and appetizers. But mostly, champagne! We had it narrowed down potential caterers to the Beverly Hills Hotel and the Bel Air Hotel. I called both first.

Apparently, they were in cahoots with the Nail Salon lady because they wanted a DEPOSIT before they do a tasting. "No, thank you. I'd just like to pick up my appetizers. Nothing with duck, please." I was politely declined.

I hasten to say... our bridal luck had run out. BUT WE STILL HAD FREE CAKE! Nothing wrong with that. So we headed over to Starbucks to partake in all our yummy samples, have a laugh and talk about the future.

That's when HE walked in.

HE of many, many years ago. The kind of guy that I had loved but if you asked him would say we were just "hanging out." And when I said, "I heard you moved to New York" he disdainfully said, "Yeah, I can't stand L.A." And when he said, "What are you up, too?" and I said, "Just trying out some wedding cake," and he wrinkled his nose is disbelief replied, "You're getting married?" like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

And rather than shove cream cheese frosting in his face, I said:

"Yes, I am. That's my Maid of Honor."

And thank God, my friend didn't say anything, her mouth either glued shut by loyalty or chocolate ganache frosting.

When he left, my Maid of Honor questioned what I would do if I ever saw him again, I thought about what my best friend since I was 14 told my arch high school enemy when she bumped into her a few years ago.

ARCH ENEMY: "How's AG doing?"
BEST FRIEND: "Great. She's a model now."

Even though I gagged on my Cosmo when my BFF told me that, I was secretly elated. But what would I do if I ever ran into arch enemy?

BEST FRIEND: "You hold your head high and tell her how fabulous Milan is this time of year."

That's what good friends are for. Not just to eat stolen wedding cake with. But to support you when you need to get back at someone that hurt you in a way only telling a little (big) white lie will.

This blog is dedicated to being silly.

If you like this entry, please send it around to some friends by using the little envelope icon below. If you do, men will fall at your feet and buy you steak dinners.

Adventure Bowl
Let's Pretend We're Brides!

You, Too, Can Learn From a Selfish Horny Loser

This post is totally long and worth it.

First of all, WOW, so many new readers. What I love even more is that so many of you are commenting. As, you know, it's very important because comments, to me, are better than getting on the scale and losing 2 pounds.

Today, we're talking about a topic you guys had a lot to say about: How To Get Out of A Rut.

I was reading this article in "Elle" magazine called "Danger Man" by Phillip Nobel about a man who walks out on his marriage, kids, his life. He committed to this life - the family life and then he realized, he didn't want it anymore.

"I was bored, Just bored... I had one thought and couldn't shake it: This isn't the life I was meant for."

It's kind of amazing how socially acceptable it is for men to create a certain life for themselves, marriage, kids, the house and cars and then walk out of it when it all becomes too much, to routine, too boring.

But then I got to thinking, maybe there's something we can learn about that.

It's incredibly selfish and self-centered to just leave and barring that a woman is going to be devastated, cry a lot and start drinking martinis at 3:00pm because her life has gone down the tubes... it's kind of admirable what men do.

Okay, now you hate me. Let me rephrase. Today, we're gonna learn a lesson from Selfish Horny Bastards, but in order to do that, we have to look at the action of walking away from a life that doesn't work for you.

So take the whole "walking out on his wife and kids" thing out of the equation, that's depressing. Just focus on the walking out on "High-functioning misery" as the author of the article calls it - that takes courage.

You wanted to know how to get out of your rut and I'm going to tell you:

YOU NEED TO BE BOLD. Bold like a Selfish Horny Loser.

Men are bold all the time. Why can't we be?

If I look at myself, I once was just too polite to walk out on a life I was not enjoying. I had worked so hard at a job I hated that I thought it was admirable to stay. The right thing. I had already invested so much time.

I don't want to start over.

I don't want to take a pay cut.

What if I can't hack it in a new job and then I get fired and END UP WITH NOTHING?

I imagined myself living in an over-turned dumpster in a back alley rooting around for leftover pizza in a trash can. (Everyone knows, of all trash food to eat, pizza is the most safe.)

THEN I GOT BOLD.

Okay, semi-bold. Semi-Bold is when life gives you a sign that this job ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY just isn't for you anymore. For me, that came in a scared-out-of-my-mind emergency room visit, my heart rate was at 230 BPM when it should be like 80 or 90.

The doctors thought I was on cocaine. I thought, "OMG, I wish my life was that glamorous! I want to be that girl!"

Then reality set in. "This job is killing me. I have to leave."

I had to face all those really scary questions that we all avoid by watching tv, surfing the internet or keeping so busy we can't possibly register a THOUGHT INTO OUR OWN HEAD.

My friend who is a writer, like a totally famous writer with shiny awards and stuff, said to me he gets the best ideas by just being silent right in the morning right when he wakes up. He said something smart like he always does that I should have written down but kind of forget.

But the idea was that your conscious, which we ignore all damn day, is kind of speaking to you in the wee hours, in a way we can't block out, so the most truest thoughts will come to you. (Just like they often do in your dreams).

So I did it. I did it a few times. It said:

"What happened to you? You wanted to be a writer but you're so damn afraid to really pursue it that you hide in a job you hate that is eventually going to kill you so you never have to risk having a career you could love. Yeah, good plan."

My conscious is such a sarcastic bitch.

So I was like that Selfish Horny Loser who, for my first time, didn't think about anyone else but me. And I did what I wanted to do. I walked out on my old life.

AND THEN I WAS SHOCKED BY WHAT HAPPENED.

I enrolled in a class at UCLA in sitcom writing. That teacher liked my work and tried to get me an agent. That didn't really work out but high praise from this former sitcom writer turned teacher got me to end the career that I hated and take a job as a writer's assistant.

It was a 70% pay cut. And no, I'm not kidding.

I was terrible at my job. I could only type with two fingers. The writers probably didn't love that I couldn't type their notes fast enough but when I was accepted into a prestigious writing program, people were really sweet to me. They listened to some of my ideas, I got an agent.

Two years later, I had my dream job. Because I was BOLD. Because like the author of that article, I was tired of living the life I wasn't meant for.

It's amazing the things we make sure we have in life. We whip out our credit cards and make sure we have rockin' clothes, big screen TVs, trips, cars, iPods. But we don't use that money to ensure our own happiness - like quitting a job we hate, taking another and supplementing the difference in pay with a zero percent credit card, a loan, etc.

This is just one part of getting out of a rut and we'll talk about more. I just thought a natural place to start is with a job because not only do we spend so much time there (70% of our waking day) but for a lot of us, okay for me, it defines a lot of our self-worth.

I'm not saying it's something to do today, I'm saying, it's time to lay in bed in the morning and let those thoughts come to you. If you can't, if it's too hard, it's journal time.

What do you want to do with the rest of your life?

What makes you happy?

How can you get there?

Are you ready to be bold?


This blog is dedicated to being mini-bold, semi-bold and gia-normously BOLD.

You, Too, Can Learn From a Selfish Horny Loser

Blogging: I'm Still Waiting For It To Shrink the Size of My Ass

Blogging has had so many positives in my life. But I'm still waiting for a time when I can say, I'm so much better, that I've lost the extra ass I gained two years ago.

People often want to know about this crazy thing called the Adventure Bowl and what it's done for me. To me, it's not just about pool hopping or riding roller coasters - it's about harnessing the strength you get when you do things you fear and apply them to other things.

For instance, feeling really strong has made me stop all contact with a very bad boyfriend. Staying in touch with jerks is for weak girls and I'm not a weak girl anymore.

There's other ways I see myself stand up for myself, too. There was this guy who came careening down my street, obviously using it as a cut through, and boxed me like a skunk in so I could not drive by. When I wouldn't back up so he could get by, he did everything from throw a newspaper at my car to a cup of coffee.

I would not back down. It might have been an over reaction, taking all the times I was just too nice and rolled over, but now risking that he was going to drag me out of my car and teach me some manners.

Instead I held my ground, totally feeling the adrenaline rush. He sized up a way to get passed me but over calculated the space and hit my car. I could hear the side of his car smooshing in... and it made me laugh.

He whizzed past me and I jumped out of my car to see... no damage to my Jeep. He had hit the big rubber side, just over the wheel.

AND I FELT AWESOME.

Is that wrong?

In my family, I have been raised to be the quintessential good girl. But where has being sweet and polite gotten me?

I feel sorry for me, for that good girl, but that girl doesn't really exist anymore and it's partly due to this blog, to the adventures that I do. Maybe other people want to buy 100 self-help books that they never put into action.

I don't. I don't need them. I have my own way.

Millions of people bought "Eat, Pray, Love" hoping they could be inspired to turn their lives around. I did, too. The problem is, how many of us can take a year off and travel the world? Will your job be waiting for you? Do you have the money that it takes?

But one thing I loved about "EPL" was, at the core of the book, it was about TAKING ACTION.

Looking at what you have and realizing it's not working for you anymore and then doing something about it. Seeing your life (which seemingly looks perfect) has gotten off track and then... building a new track, a new where to go.

So I have to ask, how many of you feel like your life has gotten off track? How did you know and what do you do about it?


This blog is dedicated to dancing in your underwear.

Blogging: I'm Still Waiting For It To Shrink the Size of My Ass

I Dreamed I Was Making Out With The Italian Delivery Guy

You should have seen the Food Delivery Guy that came a knockin' on my door! He was so gorgeous that I could barely wait 24 hours before I ordered again. Here I am house sitting at this awesome house and now my life is like something out of a porno.

So I order a salad... that's what skinny girls eat. Sure enough, 30 minutes later, he rings the bell. Actually, as my friend can attest, he didn't even ring the bell, it's like I could sense his car was winding up the street and I flew out the front door and down the stair case with all the single dollar bills I could find.

$31.00 is a good tip on an $8.00 salad, right?

I open the door, cute outfit, cute hair, lip gloss. He smiles.

"That'll be $8.45, M'am."

M'AM?

He recklessly "M'am'd" me. Which means, to him, I most closely resemble his mother, grandmother or wacky aunt with a boxy ass. I knew I should have taken that Retin-A when my doctor offered it.

Dream over.

I paid him. And then I stole his pen. (I did think of hitting him over the head with my salad... but I had to maintain my dignity somehow.)

I took the bag up to the house, looked inside and he didn't even bring me any bread. Why did he keep hurting me like this????

Ugh, when you want bread this much, I think it means, it's time to start dating again.


This blog is dedicated to starting over.

I Dreamed I Was Making Out With The Italian Delivery Guy

Adventure Bowl Holy S*%t! Roller Coasters!

So you've thrown out all your copies of useless self-help books and committed to the Adventure Bowl way of life to squash the blues and reinvigorate your life.

Now whaddaya do?

OMG, go ride a roller coaster!

That's what I did as this week's Adventure Bowl and it was a blast. You know me, a little rigid, a splash Type A, an obsessive compulsive planner. I know I'm not living my "best life" (as my girl Oprah would say) that I can and that's why I need to jump out of air planes and ride roller coasters.

Because when control freaks like me let go - we have a ridiculously fun time and then we learn to let go some more.

So, for this assignment, I made my sister go with me because riding roller coasters by yourself makes you look like a lunatic. Besides, she's a teacher so she knows all about stress and having absolutely no free time. "I have no free time," she said. I thought, "How sad! Let's ride roller coasters."

I'm sure she would have rather gone to a spa but the point was to have REAL fun. Massages are a necessity. Laughing, screaming and hurtling into the air is real fun... and come to think of it a necessity, too.

Because she needed more than a little convincing and cajoling, I offered to pay. What does a theme park cost anyway, like $25 -$30 bucks?

Yeah, in 1985.

It was $65 bucks to get in Universal Studios. Holy crap. But I didn't care.

INSERT RANT: Dear Universal Studios, After you financially rape people to get in your theme park - do you really have to have every ride literally end IN A GIFT SHOP???? Haven't we spent enough money? And why is it that their are more places to spend money than there are rides??? For every one ride there must be ten shops, kiosks, lame games and places to buy food. Though the beer carts were a nice touch. So thanks for those.

Anyway, I'll quit my bitchin' to get to the ooey gooey good stuff. First stop, Jurassic Park ride. I deemed this a "baby ride" until the end where we the roller coaster unexpectedly took an AWESOME drop and then we were doused with water.

I literally, could feel myself "let go" after that. i had to. I was literally soaking wet in my clothes and laughing my ass off.

Of course, we rode it again. Mostly, so I could make fun of people that bought rain ponchos so they wouldn't get wet.

Next up, the Mummy Ride. The Mummy Roller coaster was fantastic but incredibly short. But I love a ride that warns you not to ride it if you have 1 of the 75 conditions they had posted. That just leads to the build-up of how scary it must be if you can't ride it if you have, you know a case of... "excessive sneezing" or something.

The Mummy Ride also has a weight limit, which I made the cut. Side note: If you want to feel thin, walk around Universal Studios. I was feeling like a frickin' model there. My sister kept telling me to stop sticking my boobs out but even soaking wet from the Jurassic Park ride, I had not felt this thin and attractive forever in forever!

Saving the best for last, we then went on The Simpsons Roller Coaster. All I can say about that is - IT'S UN-FRICKIN' BELIEVABLE. It's the future! Like nothing I have been on before. Which is why I had to ride it three times.

The day was incredible and amazing. It reminded me why I do this Adventure Bowl even though it's challenging, time consuming and expensive. I do it 'cause I need to, because I have to - because I saved a lot of money laying in bed.

Because sometimes we need to schedule time for big belly laughs, do things that are crazy and make us scared and then thrill us.

I think it would be really hard for me to get depressed again, because I'll be carrying the memory of this day with me and know, all I need to do to get out of it is a big upside down ride and a splash of water in the face.


This blog is dedicated to snow cones with four flavors.

Adventure Bowl
Holy S*%t! Roller Coasters!

The Importance of Thrilling Yourself Part 2

I am all about thrilling myself... I say, defiantly, as if 8 months ago I wasn't laying in bed despairing over the extraordinary downfall of my life with just a tubful of Twizzlers and a Chihuahua to comfort me.

Okay, so I haven't always been all about thrilling myself. It's just that for a while, I was all about being down in the dumps and then I realized, that was not working for me. If this blog serves as anything, it's a journal about a girl who's spent a lot of time being bogged down, overwhelmed, certainly stressed out and not so psyched that life can be a big fat monotonous routine.

And then doing something about it.

(Here's a kicky, little story about "boredom": I took my little nephew to Griffith Park today. It's the biggest park in the US with beautiful trails, play grounds, an Observatory. It's spectacular.

He looked at it in all it's green mountain splendor and said, "This looks so boring." I gazed into his little five year-old eyes and said, "Wait until you have a job, have to pay bills, buy and maintain a house, worry about advancing your career and if you're ever going to find someone to love you. Then I think being chauffeured around in an air conditioned car to a beautiful park where you are bought anything you want on a whim by your guilt-ridden aunt who never sees you, will then, NOT SEEM SO BORING."

My sister asked that I please stop scaring her son.)

Back to my original point. As most of you know, I resurrected the Adventure Bowl as a way to force myself out of a major state of bummed-outted-ness after my cousin died, ETC.

The "ETC." is capped 'cuz, ya, know, it reflects so many things that went wrong in such a short amount of time after that.

The Adventures are a way to keep life a little unexpected, a dash of fun and a whole heaping of THRILLING. I pulled the Bowl out today, just swished around in it to see what's in there:

GET PINK HAIR: This one scares me a bit. I mean, pink hair to me is like the ultimate act of rebellion for a good girl like me. But I have been having so many meetings lately. Would pink hair be a funny story to tell or am I just going to look like a lunatic?

RIDE A ROLLER COASTER: Yay! Can you think of a better idea as an adult of feeling like a kid again? I picked this one today and I have to say, the idea that I have to stop what I'm doing sometime this week and ride a roller coaster ROCKS MY WORLD!

CONTACT THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY: Um, yeah, I know who this one is. I met him when I was 14 and we were gaga over each other. I can't help wondering what happened to him. When I pull this one out of the bowl, I guess I'll find out.

GET A NOSE RING: See "Get Pink Hair"

CROWD SURF AT A CONCERTS: I have seen a ton of shows and I have watched a ton of people, with absolute abandon, jump up and crowd surf. To me it's the most spontaneous, crazy, ballsy, life affirming, fearless thing a person can do. And I've never done it.

Because, I've let that part of me slip away. I need to get it back. If I do these things, if I thrill myself, I know I will.

Don't let the things you love slip away from you. I don't care if you're a Mom or you have a 60 hour work week. You have to still have fun. At the very least, it's good for your kids to see and I promise it will enhance your work. And your "adventures" don't have to be these big crazy things. They are just the things that come to you when you have a moments peace and think, "I wish I could..." Whatever that is - WRITE IT DOWN.

So what is it that comes to you? I would love to know. Maybe I'll just have to borrow it and put it in my bowl!


This blog is dedicated to NOT throwing up on roller coasters.

The Importance of Thrilling Yourself
Part 2

Every Thing I Know About Love, I Learned From Reality TV

This blog is UPDATED for your viewing pleasure.

I once went out on a date with an aspiring TV writer. He asked me what TV shows I like and I guiltily admitted my secret love for reality TV. That's right. "Survivor," "The Bachelor" (not all cycles), "Real World," "Top Chef," etc. He scrunched up his face like I had just told him I like to eat baby Panda bears and then he said, "You're the reason I can't get a writing job." Ouch!

What he meant was, I represented all the people all over America who like reality TV and the more we like and watch reality TV, the more scripted TV goes away and it makes it harder for aspiring writers like him to get jobs. Then he got up in a huff and said he needed to have a smoke (aspiring writers are very stressed out).

He seriously kept me waiting for like twenty minutes, I guess so I could "THINK ABOUT WHAT I HAD DONE," so I had no other choice but to pay the bill and leave. That's when I found him, the stressed out aspiring writer who smokes, out in the parking lot. We said good-bye but not before he asked me to read his spec script.

The reason I love reality TV is it gives such awesome glimpses into the human (boy) mind that I really, really need.

Take "Flipping Out" on Bravo. Do you watch it? Because if you do, then you ended up LOSING your mind just like I did over this last episode. In the episode, Jeff the Boss, uses a nanny cam on his workers. It's then that he finds out that his house manager Chris has been goofing off all day on his computer and shuffling around in his personal stuff.

That would be no big deal to BUT...

After Jeff fires him, he has to explain to Chris' wife, Jenni, who is Jeff's assistant, what he caught her husband doing. When Jenni confronts her husband (who she has been DEFENDING all this time) Chris says he's not happy and NO LONGER WANTS TO BE MARRIED TO HER!!!

WHAT???

Here the lesson is clear: We as women cannot take hot guys (Chris) and knowing they have other dreams (he wants to act) try to domesticate them by putting them in a mind numbing office job where their main responsibility is to pick up dog poop and NOT think they aren't going to punish us by breaking up with us on national TV.

Then we have "The Real World." And oh, it's real! On this last season, in Hollywood, Will falls for Janelle until hottie Britney enters the house. Britney, knowing he has a GF, comes on to him anyway (I call her Bitch-ney 'cause I'm clever like that). This is what we call girl on girl crime, people. Don't do it ladies, it just makes you look desperate and ugly.

But that's not where the learnin' comes in.'

Will goes to Mexico with his room mates and hooks up with Britney. He calls Janelle to confess and she hangs up on him. Good girl! But then she calls him a few days later so they can "talk." Honey, you don't need to talk, he already told you everything you need to know!

But noooooo, Janelle needed to find out about his talent to fake cry to get out of trouble and his love of four-somes (yeah, I spelled it right) on national TV before she could kick him to the curb.

That's the next lesson, we all know it - actions speak louder than words. And when your man has his "actions" all over another woman, he's not serious about you. So move on before you are humiliated further.

Oh, if you are not watching "The Two Coreys," then you are literally giving up a half hour of free therapy every week! Those two have the best therapist and you can just take everything she says to them and apply it to your life. I know I do!

I especially love her "one on one" sessions to the extra fucked up Corey. "I'm not asking you why you want to be in love, I'm asking you why you DON'T want to be in love."

Precisely! You don't have to be a meth, crack or heroin addict with self-destructive issues and no chance in hell to ever work again to glean answers from questions like that. Just pull out your journal and get to it!


This blog is dedicated to getting to the real, that is you.

Every Thing I Know About Love, I Learned From Reality TV

Adventure Bowl I Like Guns!

First of all, I loved all the comments in the post "The Weekly Ranting of A Delightful Lunatic." I'm so glad I am not the only one who has to get something off my chest about babies, ice coffee, cell phones, tip jars, dog doo and Vespas!

Next time, if you find banging madly on a key board to an anonymous blog doesn't get your inner rage out and throwing the tip jar at Starbucks across a room seems just this side of crazy, I've got the perfect way to blow off steam.

Let's shoot guns!

I used to be a wuss and the closest thing I wanted to a gun experience was wearing a t-shirt from this place called "Gun Heaven." I thought it would make me look tough until someone asked me if I ever "shot" there and I had to confess, "No, I... i just have the t-shirt."

NOT ANYMORE PEOPLE!

I pulled this lil' adventure from the Adventure Bowl and I was so excited. Maybe I was just ready to embrace my inner Angelina Jolie after seeing "Wanted," I don't know, but I wanted to shoot something, something bad!

I can't believe they just let any ol' person walk into these gun clubs and start shooting but luckily they do. And if you go on a day that's not busy, they'll spend a good amount of time with you, give you some instruction and let you pick out a gun that suits you best, ("Do you have any that are pink? I'm kidding. Okay, I'm not, do you?").

Then you throw on your "eyes and ears" - that's gun club talk for protection, line up and blast away. It's totally fun and completely empowering in a way that shooting squirt guns is not. Though I did wonder if I needed a hepatitis C shot after being in my little semi-grimy area. But it wouldn't be cool if it weren't a lil' grimy.

So go shoot guns people. Because you never know when you might want to switch jobs from an lifeless office worker to a highly skilled assasin.

And if you're not going to do that, do something else that makes you feel a little fearless this weekend.


This blog is dedicated to being a stone cold fox.

Adventure Bowl
I Like Guns!

The Weekly Rantings of a Delightful Lunatic

I feel like writing something fun. My friend does the best rants. THE BEST! He hates everything but the great part is he can totally justify it. He's not so much complaining (I HATE COMPLAINERS) as unburdening himself. The thing about him too, he is literally, the most stress-free person I know.

So, I think he's on to something. Maybe if we all ranted and just completely got off our chests the things that are taxing our minds, then we could be stress free, too.

So, here are my rants for the week:

THE TIP JAR - Can we talk about the tip jar? It's at every Starbucks, every sandwich shop, my friend even says there is one at his dry cleaner. It never really bothered me. BUT NOW IT'S MAKING ME CRAZY. Where it really makes me insane is at Starbucks which gives it's employees stock options and benefits. And on top of that, they want a dollar tip on my $2.00 coffee.

Um... no. And to drive home my point, I am now walking around with my own tip jar. YEAH, that's right, I am. Here's my thought process. The economy is in the crapper. Right now, when I come in for a cup of coffee, I am keeping you working. So technically, you should be tipping me for your job.

Too harsh?

ICE COFFEE - And while we're on the topic of coffee shops, why is it that the price of ice coffee is 30-50% more than regular coffee? They fill the whole cup with ice so technically you are getting HALF the amount of coffee for MORE money.

You know what I do? I ask for a hot coffee and then a cup of ice on the side and then I defiantly mix my coffee and ice together. Sometimes, I bring my own big cup. Who has time to think of these things? I do.

PEOPLE WITH STROLLERS - This might be an unpopular one because you thought I was so nice and then I revealed my somewhat strong dislike of children. I just don't understand when a couple is walking towards me with their stroller and I have the right of way, why I have to get out of the way. Also, babies are messy and they cry.

PEOPLE WHO TALK ON THEIR CELL PHONES IN COFFEE SHOPS - I'm trying to drink my three dollar coffee! (Yes, I tipped a dollar even though I didn't want to.)

PEOPLE WHO RIDE VESPAS - That's cute that you're saving on gas and stuff but 1) You don't look like you remotely know how to drive that thing and 2) If I hit you, I might laugh a little.

PEOPLE THAT NOTICE ME NOT PICKING UP MY DOGS'S POOP - If I wanted to pick it up, I wouldn't be pretending to look the other way.

Wheeeeeewwwww! Do I feel better. So now I want to let your fingering rip over that key board and gimme your rants.


This blog is dedicated to meat ball pizza.

The Weekly Rantings of a Delightful Lunatic

Skinny Bitches

Can we talk about skinny bitches?

You know, I used to be one, prancing around in my size 6 jeans and feeling like there would never be a day when I would have a voluminous extra ass and jiggly hips and thighs... and arms. Then I got hella down in the dumps and foods I would never even eat before, like bagels and croissants, started to be my staples for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I'm not sure where the turning point came (if it has come) but I thought, do I really want to gain more? I mean, this has REALLY gotten out of hand. (When you have labored breathing getting into your car, it's time to examine your life and diet).

So I decide to sign up for a boot camp in my neighborhood. Right. A normal person might start taking long walks or say, ride the bike at one of her three gyms she pays memberships a month to.

Not me. I may have my "Before" body, but I want my "After" life.

I go to the Pilates bootcamp (yeah, I'm rolling my eyes at my extreme pretentiousness, too). What I remember about pilates is that it's exercise you can do laying down. I'm in! Can we watch TV, too?

Oh, but then the Skinny Bitches who are taking the class with me walk in, each in a more fabulous and more Juicy outfit than the other. Are you kidding me? I'm wearing bright blue Target (half price sweats), a red Gap t-shirt and mismatched socks.

The Skinny Bitches scoff at me. And I scoff at myself. This is not my Burbank pilates - this is a Kick Your Ass and Hand It Back To You workout. I rustle through my purse making sure I have my insurance card with me.

The only comfort I have is that a Very Famous TV Star is in class and he cannot keep up either. I won't say who he is, because ya know, I want to be respectful of his privacy. Okay, it's totally TR Knight from "Grey's Anatomy" and I'm kicking his ass but that's not saying much. He keeps reducing the weights whenever the instructor turns around.

I leave, every inch of me drenched in sweat. I now feel immense compassion for any self-defined big girl who returns to a work out class after not going in like, forever. It's hard. I wonder if people made assumptions about me. I wish I had a t-shirt that said, "I Used To Be Thin Like You."

Hmmmm... it couldn't be much to print one of those up?

I always said, this wouldn't be a diet blog. It's my journey back to the person I used to be. And that person was fit and kick ass. She might have been a Skinny Bitch, too. Someone who wore her perfect outfits to exercise class and took her sensible weight for granted.

I will never do that again.

I will say, when I gain weight, I am in total denial. Even as I'm going from my jeans, to bigger jeans, to sweat pants - I kind of have no idea that I am changing. I think, I'm just me and somehow when I'm ready, I'll (snap my fingers) just go back to a size 6.

Yesterday's insanely, brutal wake-up call in the form of a woman screaming at me to "Get that butt, up! Up! Do you want those saddle bags??? DO YOU WANT THAT JIGGLE BEHIND YOUR ARMS????", told me, this is going to be a frickin' lot of work.

(P.S. I did wonder what would happen if I told her that Yes, indeed, I did want to to keep my saddle bags, but I was too scared. So was TR.)

I went back again, today. I could almost feel tears coming to my eyes, it was so INCREDIBLY hard. Why did I do this to myself? UGH!

But I also felt immensely proud. I didn't let the Skinny Bitches deter me. And I got my butt up, a little higher and my instructor even screamed at me a little less today.

Awesome.


This blog is dedicated to Big Girls who take big chances.

Skinny Bitches