A little bit of this, A little bit of that

18-20: I used to hope and pray I wouldn’t get carded so that I could go out with my friends

21: I loved loved LOVED getting carded so that I could be all “hella yeahhhhh bitttchhhesss I’m legal nowwwwwww! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! EVRRRRRAYYYYBOOOODY!

22-24: Get carded here and there. No big thang.


25 and in Canada: Bitch please, they don’t ever card here. Drinking age is like 2.

I grew up in the wrong country.


Took Layla for TWO (not one, but TWO) walks today. It was snowin’ and blowin’ out there today. Walk numero uno was cut short because I literally could not hold the poop bag anymore. The wind had its way….

Walk numero dos was much more successful. No doo-doo.

And of course, gurllll did her roly poly in the fresh powder..

It’s a good thing most of her roly poly moments are during the day time while everyone is at work, otherwise neighbors would gather at their windows and watch the madness. One dude did stop his car and she was a nut. Like mother, like daughter. It was a proud moment for me.

"What's that you say?!"

"Oh no, you di'int!"

Enough with the dog pictures, Jen! Alright, alright….for today.

Lesson #472 about Twitter: Ask (yourself) and you shall receive.

An hour later, and this delovely (delicious AND lovely) smoothie was to be had:

  • banana
  • raspberries
  • cranberries
  • pineapple
  • oj

Hit the spot.

(‘the spot’ being the smoothie section of my brain/belly)


This next thing I have asked for, and have yet to receive: Girl Scout Thin Mints. I just want one box people. 2 measly sleeves of those minty rounds of love. Put ’em in the freezer and break out a few every now and then to go with ice cream.

Here’s what I have done to obtain aforementioned cookies:

1)Facebook plea

2) Twitter war cry

3) General around-the-house humming and hawwing until cookies magically appear.

4) I have done my due diligence and Googled where the Girl Guides of Canada are selling their vanilla/chocolate cookies and I will ask them when I can expect thin mints to be on the menu.

I am running out of hope options.

Another story for you: I was a Daisy, a Brownie, a Junior, AND a Cadet. Cookie season was the Olympics. Except bloodier. Thank god my dad worked in San Francisco and had major hookups with lots of coworkers. He I sold the sh*t outta those cookies. I feel a little bit bad now that I think about it because he had to bring all those cookies on Bart on a dolly into the city. And really, what did that get me? A badge (‘we don’t need no stinking badges!’) a stuffed animal, and maybe a coin purse.

*Blah, blah, blah, it taught you hard work and perseverance pay off. Blood, sweat, tears and your father’s co-workers get you a coin purse. Sigh.

What’s your favorite Girl Scout cookie?

Where you a Girl Scout?

Rumbly in my Tumbly

Yesterday’s walk was apparently super strenuous. After I threw back that smoothie, I got up to rinse the glass, and boom- hip.in.pain. Like couldn’t stand up straight pain. Like I had flashes of Life Alert commercials and those bath tubs with doors for old people commercials. Ack, I was surely close to death. And everyone knows if you’re home in the middle of the day and your hip hurts, you take a bubble bath. So that is what I did. just following protocol.

It wasn’t all that peaceful. About halfway through, the doorbell rang and all three dogs flipped their shit and barked nonstop for 5 minutes. Had I been more mobile, I would have gotten out and….. Nope, still wouldn’t have done anything.

Moving on to dinner, I found a really appealing recipe for Buffalo Quinoa Mac and Cheese on Jessica’s blog. I was won over by quinoa and I had the boyfriend on the brain for the buffalo part. I ran over to Safeway for the ingredients and got to work.

Hold up. Let’s go back to the part where I go to the store for the ingredients. I couldn’t remember if we had any chicken in the freezer, so I swung by the meats and picked up an ‘economy’ pack of 5 *that’s right, FIVE* chicken breasts and it was TWENTY-FOUR DOLLARS. What the hell?? I just about went into cardiac arrest. And that’s like the store brand, non-organic stuff. Ugh, I die.

I threw all the schtuff together and WHAM, this happened:

Tyler and I scarfed this deliciousness while watching Survivor. Then…… Either my body went back into lactose-intolerant mode OR I was having sympathy pains for Colton (pff, we all know that’s a crock. Him and Alicia got all bitch-ass-ness on Christina. Karma was not kind to him! Bwahaha.) Back to me: I died. I sucked it up and helped Tyler put a second coat of paint on the walls, but I thought the end was near. I was in bed by 7. And had to skip my workout. And I cried more about that. Because I was feeling so fat and gross and nasty and blughk. Better to be in bed and miserable than to spew said miserableness in front of fellow gym go-oers. You’re welcome, fellow gym go-ers.

I’m still in bed in recovery mode. There appears to have been a minor snow fall last night, so today’s scheduled hike may have to be for a later date. But—–> I will workout today! Come hell or high water or further digestive issues! Go me!

Anyone else have to hole up and miss workouts and hate their life until you finally feel better again and get get a good, hard workout in?

That was a run on sentence, but I don’t care.