Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Poop Tattoo Angers Girlfriend

Word to the wise: never, ever, ever cheat on your boyfriend. Especially if he's a tattoo artist.

So, apparently this chick named Rossie wanted her boyfriend Ryan to design a magical scene from Narnia on her back. Perhaps she was envisioning flying horses. Instead she wound up with flies. Buzzing around a massive pile of #2. Click here to see -- it's too gross to post on my cute little blog.

Why oh why?

Ryan caught wind that Rossie cheated on him with his friend. So, he plotted permanent revenge by way of tequila and a sneaky consent form stating the design was “at the artist’s discretion.” Rossie is now single, and in need of some serious laser surgery.

It's clearly for the best that they broke up... although this story takes getting "dumped" to a whole new level.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Exercise is Funny

The other day when I was on the elliptical, I had a random thought, what if a colonial pilgrim was transported through time and ended up in my gym during after-work peak hours? What a bewildering sight: Neon lights. Hundreds of people wearing spandex frantically running on machines, yet going nowhere at all. Lady Gaga tunes blasting. Men wearing shirts with their sleeves cut off. TVs broadcasting Keeping Up with the Kardashians at every turn....

Why a pilgrim? Who knows. Maybe Thanksgiving had some sort of influence.

Regardless of my historical character choice, next time you're at the gym, step back and look around at what's going on. It's really kinda funny. (Stability ball class, anyone?) I'm pretty sure that the more ridiculous you look, the better the workout. At least that's what I told myself tonight in Zumba.

This class was AH-mazing. My last Zumba experience was a little too low key -- retirement community-esque, if you will. But this was like being at a club. Except with all strangers (yep, super awkward at first). Men and women of all ages were shimmying and shaking without a care in the world. And that's the point. It's a chance to pretend you've got moves, even if you're rhythmically-challenged, (while burning a zillion calories). So what if that series of samba/butt-rolls makes you look like you're being electrocuted? There were definitely a few times I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and couldn't really process what my legs were doing. What can I say? My childhood in the suburbs of Cleveland really lacked Latin flair. I'll improve...

I think the pilgrims would have been into it. They seem like celebratory folk.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Forever Lazy: An Adult Onesie

There's something I saw on TV that's crazier than Herman Cain, and not getting nearly enough mainstream media attention. Just when I thought infomercial products couldn't get any worse than Pajama Jeans -- Forever Lazy, in all of it's anti-pill polar fleece glory, hit the airwaves. The two minute commercial features overly enthusiastic adults (sometimes even entire families) wearing "one-piece full body lazy wear." Yep.

Good luck getting a date...
Why would any sane person need such a thing? Because "wrestling with blankets is silly" and the makers of Forever Lazy don't want you using your heat in the winter ... or having stable human relationships.

When wearing a Forever Lazy, you'll be nice and toasty while you read, talk on the phone, or awkwardly play a guitar in a college dorm room while your roommate asks for an immediate transfer. You can easily sip ice water on your deck with your spouse without worrying about what to wear. You can also "enjoy some down time with pets." (Where did they find this scriptwriter?)

Obviously these 2 idiots are friends.
The most horrifying part is that you don't even have to take it off to go to the bathroom. There are "zippered hatches in the front and back for great escapes when duty calls."

I have so many questions about Forever Lazy, I don't even know where to begin. Who is the mastermind behind this idea? Is it just a cruel joke to see if we can boost the obesity rate in this country even more? Does it come with a bag of Funyuns? How much did the actors get paid? Were they drugged? Does it need to be dry cleaned? How many nervous breakdowns have been linked to purchases of a Forever Lazy? 

Honestly, if I am ever found wearing this -- shit will have really hit the fan. Just rip the pint of ice cream and box of Franzia out of my hands and intervene.

But let's get serious now ... there are some high risk people that should never, ever step foot into a Forever Lazy:
  • a woman fresh out of a breakup
  • anyone that lives with their parents after college
  • people that own 3 or more cats
  • Charlie Sheen  
So, should I buy this for my husband for his birthday?

Monday, November 7, 2011

$1 for a Stability Ball

Have you guys seen this hysterical craigslist ad? After a particularly challenging yoga class, this guy tried to sell his yoga mat (used only once) for a dollar. His listing takes you through the ups (crush on the chick next to him) and downs ("150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own ... I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed."), fully detailing why he'll never step foot in that class again.

Tonight I had a similar "challenging" experience at the gym. Except I'm going to try to sell all of the gym's stability balls for a dollar, so I never have to take that class again.

All joking aside, it actually was an awesome class. With practice, in about three years I should be able to successfully do the things the teacher told me to. But let me just fill you in on some of my ups and downs of class tonight.

First of all, have you ever done a full body workout with a stability ball? It's impossible not to look like a beached whale that's found an over-sized sand toy. Actually, the entire class seemed to resemble different forms of sea life. The poor guy next to me was flopping around like a little sardine. I knew I was in good company when he let out a high-pitched shriek as the ball shot out from under him. 

Most exercises begin with you rolling your entire body over the ball into some sort of plank position. Then the super perky teacher tells you to do something ungodly, like 45 pushups with just your toes resting on the ball or headstands with one foot in the air, and one on the ball.

Are you KIDDING ME, LADY? What did I ever do to YOU? You should be paying ME to be here.

After doing a particularly hard series of what can only be described as acrobatics, I'm pretty sure I blacked out. The only reason I woke up is because Ke$ha was sprinkling glitter on my face. Following that brief hallucination, we were told to lay on our backs, and rock back and forth. The perky lady called it a teeter-totter. The last time I was on a teeter-totter, I remember it being fun. And then I got juice and animal crackers. Tonight, not so much.

A bit of advice: If you're ever going to do a class like this, avoid being in the back row, closest to the massive window that faces the rest of the gym. Yep, I had that prime spot. I'm sure the dudes lifting weights had quite a show the 62 times I rolled off the ball, cursing to myself like a truck driver. 

Forty five minutes later ... it was over. I took a deep sigh of relief, and teetered out of the room like a baby that just learned to walk. Moving tomorrow should be awesome.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Hitting Rock Bottom via Frozen Yogurt

It's official. I cannot go to a frozen yogurt shop where I am allowed to administer my own toppings. I mean, what the hell is this?

Let's discuss - why bother with fat-free yogurt, when you're just going to top it with an Oreo cookie, a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and 2,000 yogurt chips (for extra crunch)? I honestly could have been eating frozen fish mousse and had no clue, due to a very skewed toppings-to-yogurt ratio.

Give me free reign at a toppings bar, and it's not going to be pretty...

Yesterday, over at Yogi Castle I created Halloween in a cup. Surrounded by college girls, all named Lindsay, my husband and I dug into our $6/14lb fro-yos. While the Lindsays were busy eating free samples and complaining ... we barely spoke, except for the occasional involuntary, "Yummmm". That's how you know you've hit rock bottom ... when you don't allow conversation to get in the way of dessert.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Having a "Grownup" Moment

Do you ever have a moment when you think, "Holy crap. I'm a grownup." Even though you know you're a grownup, sometimes little things, like a particular purchase, action, or experience makes you really feel it. Using a salad spinner. Buying organic cage-free brown eggs at Whole Foods. Saying, "Let's talk offline" while on a conference call. Making a dining room centerpiece out of seasonal gourds. I don't have kids yet, but I imagine changing a "poopie" diaper can have the same effect.

Today's "grownup moment" is sponsored by Kiehl's Midnight Recovery Eye Cream:

I was shopping around in the makeup department at Saks with my friend Courtney, when it hit me: I desperately needed eye cream. And not just the kind that hydrates or reduces puffiness. The kind that prevents - ugh - wrinkles. Was I really ready to venture into the anti-aging beauty world? I suddenly longed to be a teenager shopping for "Twilight Woods" Bath and Body Works fragrance mist.

Wah. (That's me, lightly whining.)

Before I could totally freak myself out, the makeup lady gently dabbed my eye area with a cooling concentrate of essential oils and botanicals. I was instantly calmed, and then instantly handed over my credit card.

I decided to consider the purchase an essential part of a healthy skincare routine. And to counter balance the grownup-ness of needing eye cream, I will treat myself to a hot chocolate with marshmallows and listen to Justin Bieber.

What makes you feel like a grown-up? Also, what eye cream do you use? I'll report back on how my "midnight recovery" goes. 

Thursday, November 3, 2011

A Box of Beauty Surprises

Ever since I was a little girl, I was always fascinated by makeup. I would watch in awe as my mom applied mascara. I was obsessed with my aunts' long 80s nails and shimmery pink lip glosses. And over at grandma Rita's (after watching The Price is Right), I would sit for hours at her oh-so-glamorous vanity table, layering lipstick upon lipstick and dabbing my cheeks with her hot pink "rouge". There was also an unfortunate episode in which I smeared Vaseline all over my face because I wanted to look "shiny."

Perhaps this Halloween "look" is what steered me in the wrong direction...

Regardless, I got my act together by middle school and always kept my makeup simple. But sometimes simple can get boring. Enter Birchbox -- for just 10 bucks, members receive a box filled with  4-5 luxury brand beauty samples each month. From makeup to skincare, fragrance to hair care, you can test out new products before shelling out big bucks on the big sizes. Thanks to a tip from my co-worker Emily, I just ordered my very first Birchbox -- so excited for the beauty surprises that await!