"Here at Globo Gym we're better than you, and we know it"

So I started going to the gym in the mornings now instead of the afternoon.  I find that going after work is such a pain in the ass after a long day in the office.  All I want to do when I get off is go home, put on my pajamas, most likely do a pile of dishes, and then cuddle up on the couch with my cats, is that so wrong?  Plus when I go in the morning, it helps wake me up, gives me the incentive to go to bed earlier, and quite frankly I just like it better.  The gym is much less crowded in the morning too.

The only problem I have with my morning gym routine is the town gossipers that invade the place every morning.  Several elderly women, a middle aged woman who looks like Carrie Fisher circa 1991 who is a complete nutcase, and a few elderly men.  I have become quite accustom to this morning crowd, and learned to drown out their constant rants with my Ipod.  I believe that "Carrie" is an obsessive compulsive exerciser.  She is there every morning when I get there at 7:50, already drenched in sweat, and vigorously power walking at an alarming rate of speed.  After about 20 minutes she gets off, puts her foot weights on, and starts pumping iron.  She's quite a gangly one.  There's no depth or definition in her muscles as far as I can see, it's quite strange. You'd think from all that iron pumping and dynamic cardio she'd be ripped like a washboard but she isn't.  Her and one of the elderly men are constantly yapping during their workouts. I heard her one day (over my Ipod I might add) telling him, "Yeah! Can you believe it! My daughter goes away to college and suddenly wants to be in a Jewish sorority house! I'll tell you what!..." Of course, this only led to a heated debate over religion and discipline.  All the other old woman chime in, "Well in MY day!..." All the while, these screech monkeys are taking up all the treadmills, squawking back and forth to each other. Defeated by the unusual onslaught of old people every morning, I am forced to use the ellipticals.

Yesterday morning, I was doing one of my normal routines, starting on the elliptical, moving to the stair stepper, and onto the arm presses.  There was an abnormality in the gym yesterday morning, as there was a new guy there. He was roughly 5' foot tall, resembling that of a pinched off loaf, sporting a sleeveless tee, black gym shorts, work boots, glasses, and a large back support belt.  He wandering from machine to machine holding an 'O-Men' magazine and grinning strangely at everyone who would go within a 5 foot radius of him.  Since he seemingly was guarding all of the arm presses, I went to the ab machine. As I'm using the machine behind him, enjoying some Primus on my Ipod, he's using one of the 3 arm presses (sorry, I do not know any of the actual titles of these machines, forgive me).  The one he was using is the one where you sit down, and push the handles forward. For some reason, he decides to dramatically let go of the handles.  I guess he was done using them and wanted everyone to know.  The 7003849 pounds he was pressing went crashing to the floor with a deafening clang.  Like I said, I had Primus blaring my ears, so the sound was considerably muffled, but it was definitely loud enough to scare the bejesus outta all the old folk on the row on treadmills. Quite startled, they all stopped squawking long enough to turn around and gape at him awkwardly for a few seconds before resuming to their gossiping. He got up and went stomping around the gym like an incredible asshole, checked himself out in the mirror and started working on another machine that was too close to me for comfort.  I got up and started on one of the arm machines, that was next to the previous one he'd just been using.  Not only did he not wipe down the machine he was sweating all over, but he left his O-Men magazine laying in front of the machine, displaying a whole 2 pages of lubed up steroid ragers like himself.  I had not even gotten one lift in (this was the one you push upwards), and he was already careening around the corner from the back of the gym and walking right up to me.  I quickly looked at the floor and pretended I didn't see him coming, but he just stood there. I finally looked up at him, Primus still blasting, and he said to me, "Let me know when you are done with that"...I read his steroid lips, but I knew he what he said.  What the hell man?  This is not your personal gym where you can leave your secretly gay magazines laying all over and question people trying to use the machines you may potentially want to use in the future. You also aren't wiping the steroid sweat off the machines! I was pissed. I pulled out my earbud and said, "Why don't you wipe the other machine down first and we'll see."  Which is what I should have actually said, but what I really said was, "Yep."  I didn't tell him though. I just got up and left. That'll show him.

Current weight loss: Fluxuating between 23/26

Pant size dropped: 2

New Goal: Drop 20-25 more pounds by the time we go to Florida, March 19.

Random Topics

Random 1:

On the Surf Report the other day someone had referenced Jillian Michaels, and it got me going.  I used to somewhat like Jillian when I started watching The Biggest Loser last season. I breifly idolized her intensity and passion she threw at you to achieve your goals.  I wanted to stress 'briefly'.  After purchasing Jillians book "Making the Cut" last year, I learned very quickly, that Jillian Michaels not only looks and talks like a transvestite, but that her ways of losing weight require you to be some kind of millionare chef of somesort.  After reading the $400 grocery list, and the fact that Jillian emphasizes that you cannot drink, I retired the book into the cabinet never to be seen again.  How dare her. How dare Jillian Michaels tell me I cannot drink. There is a part in the introduction of her book where she says, "BUT, if you have to have alcohol," I picture her rolling her eyes in disgust here like we are all scumbag alcoholics, "You are limited to 2 small glasses of vodka and some diet soda."  Did it ever occur to Jillian Michaels that not all people are fans of vodka?  I hate vodka.  I have always hated vodka.  After watching her videos and partially reading her useless book I've really come to hate her actually. I just really despise that manly attitude.  I understand your body is ripped like Schwarzenegger's mutant offspring, but why the man voice and mannerisms.  For God's sake Jillian Michaels, get the celery stick out of your ass, paint your nails, eat a McNugget and drink a goddamned beer. Live a little.

Random 2:

Lately I've been seeing a lot of nonsense on the news about opting out of being checked at flight security next Wednesday for Thanksgiving flyers.  That was pretty much the icing on the cake for me.  I don't need anything else to convince me that people are getting stupider and stupider. WHY the hell would you be trying to convince people that opting out of security is a good idea? You're really more worried about a security guard 'touching you' and taking a full body scan of you, then dying in a firey crash on a plane because some asshole suicide bomber wants to blow you up? Good God people, really?!  Are you really that stupid, or are you just that hell bent on making some kind of retarded statement?  Has anyone noticed lately all the potential bomb threats we've had lately? Oh, and 9/11? If I was going on a plane where half the passenger opted out of security, I'd be pretty goddammed scared. You don't think that there aren't some bombers out there watching the TV shitting themselves with glee and hopping online to buy plane tickets?  It just really burns me.  My opinion is, if you're going to get some stuffy assmunch that's not going to be willing to be checked, that guy can stay the hell of the plane and eat his Thanksgiving dinner in the airport lobby with the rest of his asshole friends. I just picture some fat idiot, bustling through the airport, red faced and sweating, stopping at the security line, then screaming profanity at the security guards because he's afraid someone is going to fondle his frontal ass. If I had a frontal ass, I would gladly let someone touch it if it meant saving my life.  People just baffle me.

I will be back Monday most likely. Feel free to add your opinion, I'm curious what other people think about the plane thing.

Byebye,
Britt

Andy

A few posts ago, and about 4 months ago, Ben and I brought home a new kitty whom I named Andy. The name was thought up when Ben and I had gone to see Toy Story 3 and I loved the idea of naming a baby girl Andy despite the gender.  Toy Story movies have always been classics, and the name stuck with me.  The lady, Karen, that we bought Andy from, explained to us that Andy (or Daisy they called her) was the only girl in the litter, and quite a pretty baby! she exasperatedly added.

We brought Andy home and introduced her to our other handsome furry forest cat, Poster. Poster did not take to Andy...in fact, Poster would not come into a room if Andy was in it. I took this picture from the couch one afternoon while Andy was napping in my lap, and Poster was watching and sulking in the other room. I was especially intrigued by the glowing eyes reflecting into the floor.

Eventually Poster and Andy became friends and were two peas in a pod, but it was time for Andy to be taking to the dreaded vet. I brought her there and set the carrier on the counter.  The girl at the counter questioned me several times on the name..."So this is a male..."

"No, it's a female"

"A female named Andy?"

Now becoming slightly offended, I reply, "Yes."

She looks at me, confused, "Andy...this is a female?"

Now annoyed, "Yes. I named my female kitten Andy."

"OK."

So she takes Andy away. I finally left practically crying because I'm such a baby seeing my child be scared (I don't have kids, my pets are my kids), and went to work. An hour later I receive a call from the vet's office. I answer nervously, contemplating something horrible, but instead she says, "When you came in this morning, you told us Andy was a girl correct?"

"Yes, why what happen to her?"

"Well...I don't know how to tell you this but your Andy is actually a little boy..."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, he has testicles...so we are actually going to neuter him...but at least you don't have to change the name!!!"

I was floored.  I realize this may sound silly to some people, but it completely blew my mind to find out that our 'little girl' was actually a little boy. We'd been referring to him as 'Poster's little girlfriend' and 'our little girl' and laughing about how Poster will probably be humping her soon. We got a good laugh about that.

Well I am going to watch some Ghost Adventures and go to bed.

Goodnight friends:D

Hair-Over, Primus and Rothbury Fest

I'm a little blue lately because although I am losing weight, and feel physically better, I am still having an issue with my pale as a ghost skin and stupid fricken hair cut that stupid fricken lady down the street cut recently. I've never really had a set hairdresser at a specific salon. I usually go to whoever is available and conveniently located for me.  For as long as I remember, I had a lady named Vicki do my hair. She became somewhat of a friend to the family after so long, and I even threw up on her floor once when I was getting my hair done for my Aunt's wedding at the age of 6. I remember saying, "Hurry..." as I doubled over in threw up a half a gallon of orange juice onto her floor.  She still managed to french braid my hair though.  I threw up on my Aunt's wedding dress in the limo a few hours later. It was so ruffly you couldn't even tell. They are divorced now. Anyway, after highschool I became very good friends with my pink-haired, arch nemesis who had recently obtained her cosmetology license. She would do my hair frequently, testing new colors, giving me trims whenever needed, helping me pick out the perfect shades and developers, it was great. I had my own personal hair dresser.  She even put 10" extensions in my hair one time.  She was really good at what she did.  Except, for some reason I seem to attract friends who are gypsies and can't sit in one place for a long period of time.  They must move all over, make new friends, work different jobs, get bored, and start all over again. So one day she called me up and said her good-byes as she was suddenly packing up and moving to Michigan with a girl friend she met at a dance club.  That was it, she was gone.  After she moved away, I had another friend, Sammy who was a hairdresser.  She was really good too, except she would charge me the same amount at a ritzy salon which I thought was a little weird. I don't mean to sound like a penny pinching bitch, but I'm your friend, you can't give me a little bit of a discount? If I had my license, I'm pretty sure I would charge for coloring, but not for simple trims and what not, especially not $20 bucks.  Shortly after, Ben and I moved into our apartment, and we became friends with our downstairs neighbors.  Wouldn't ya know it, she was a hair dresser. So I started going downstairs every so often for $10 hair cuts.  Now we're in our house, and that couple had to move out of the apartment and into a parent's house due to the lovely job situation here in the depressed States so now I have no one.  I've talked to the downstairs girl a few times but she has a new baby and what not so our schedules are always conflicting.

I finally gave in and went to a place down the street from my work. I told her I just wanted a trim and wanted my 'helmet' as I call it, cleaned up to make it easier to style. So what does she do? Gives me a bowl cut.  Literally, she trimmed around the edges in a straight line and was like, "There ya go!", and did not even clean up the layers or anything.  Unfortunately, I could not really tell that there was a problem until a few days later when my hair started to 'settle' and refused to do anything. I need a complete hair-over.  I also would like to start tanning too.  I just hate being pale at all times. I've tried the bronzing lotions and spray tans and they never look natural.  I don't care how much they try to convince and sway you that it won't look 'orangey', fake or streaky, they always do.  Especially since the lotions and sprays do not show up until like 4 hours later. I made the mistake one time of putting it on before bed and woke up looking like some kind of Oompa Loompa Zebra creature.  

So October 2nd, Ben, our friend Cody, and my brother Brandon are going to Chicago to the Congress Theatre for Primus.  I'm pretty excited about it.  We saw Primus back in 2008 at Rothbury festival in Michigan.  Which, was by far, one of the coolest and visually stimulating festivals I have ever had the pleasure of attending, I might add.  I saw more colors walking through that forest then I've seen in my whole life. Especially at night when they had the forest lit with blacklights that was reflecting off glitter paper wrapped around the trees, it was truly amazing.  We had to walk through there to get to the 'secret' stage where Primus was playing. As we all filed out of the forest, he started playing "Here come the Bastards', which was a perfect pick for an opener.  It must have been an awesome sight from his point of view.

Unfortunately, since it was close to 100 during the day here and 50 at night, I was sporting a backless tanktop, a skirt and sandals from the daytime concerts.  All the stages are bunched together throughout the forest, and the tent was about a half a mile away from the stages.  Since we didn't have time to run back and grab a change of clothes, we didn't make it to the end of the show.  I couldn't take it anymore...I'm pretty sure my lips were blue and had I had lost feeling in all appendages at a certain point, so Ben and I, frozen, hiked back to the tent and put on some warm clothes and ventured out to the after hours parties happening throughout the grounds. They also had what was called an 'Interactive Monkey Sculpture' which kept us entertained until about 4 in the morning. They had bongo drums attached to the base of the sculpture, when you would hit them, that's when the strobe lights would go off that you see in the video.

I'm pretty sad that Rothbury is no more.  They keep promising a new festival but it's not going to happen. So I guess I feel privaledge that I got to attend the very first 2008 festival.

Well, I am going to start trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Good day all.

Random Rants and Stuff

I am really hating this day.  First I wake up this morning and my 'friend' has arrived for the month, which is always delighfully unpleasant.  I don't step one foot out the door before being hit with a pounding headache. These kind of headaches do not go away with painkillers...well mine don't anyway.  The only thing that makes these particular headaches go away is sleep. Sleeping is not something I can do at work.  I have to sit at work, on the phone and listen to med students squawk in my ear, demanding for things to be done with them when they haven't even done the proper requirements or sent in appropriate documents for that particular thing to be done.  It's exasperating.  They always claim that 'nobody told me that' or 'weren't aware of that', and it's always the students who have been in school for 2 or more years. How could you not know? How could you not know how much time you are given to study for your board exams? Come on people.

Other than that, I guess I'm glad my 'friend' wasn't here over the weekend.  We took my brothers to the Signature Room in Chicago for lunch, and it was great.  I was pretty dissapointed they didn't put us at one of the many open tables with a window view...so we were stuck staring at table after table of Chinese people.  I have nothing against Chinese people, but there were so many of them in Chicago on Saturday I questioned whether or not we had teleported into China at some point. It started to get weird...everwhere I looked, there were Chinese people.  The food was good. They had Mahi Mahi, some delicious cheesy potatoes, cheesy broccoli, mostacholi, and some other goodies.  They bought a basket of freshly baked bread and these giant tortilla chips on our table, which was good with the spicy vegetable beef soup they were offering. The only thing I guess I could complain about--just a tiny complaint--the waiters are a little too much.  I genuinely appreciate good service, but we'd take one sip out of our drinks and there would be arms shooting from all directions refilling the glass to the brim. One time, the waiter came by to refill my brother's water, but he ran out water half way through. In the blink of an eye, another waiter filled the missing 2 inches with water as he sashayed past like a ribbon dancer in a gentle breeze.  Most people would love that, but I guess we are used to stuffing our faces at Ruby Tuesdays and Red Lobsters and aren't used to that kind of treatment.

After the restaurant we took a wild cab ride over to Navy Pier and rode the ferris wheel. By far the biggest ferris wheel I've ever been on. I remember all of us exchanging nervous glances at certain points.  My youngest brother kept snapping pictures with his cell phone and I kept imagining it popping from his grip like a bar of a soap and smashing into someone's head down below. The air tempurature and wind speed also drops and picks up at the top, which doesn't help calm your nerves one bit.

Well the work day has come to another end, will hopefully try to write tomorrow.

Hugs, Me.

Signature Room and Halo 3

Hello fellow readers, whoever you are.

Has anyone ever been to the Signature Room at the 95th in Chicago? Ben surprised me yesterday afternoon by telling me he was taking me there for lunch on Saturday.  We are bringing my little brothers too, so that will be interesting.  My one brother Brandon, is a younger, male version of myself. We both play guitar, we both love the same bands, we're both easy going, and we both have a thing for Halo 3 on Xbox. We can hang out all day and laugh at toilet humor until we move on to video games and it would never get old. My youngest brother, Colin, is the exact opposite of me.  He is 14, an all-star baseball player, plays Gears of War on Xbox, and likes Lil' Wayne. Completely different. I have a younger sister as well, but she is in a league all her own.  She's a bit more temperamental then the rest of us. Her and Colin are more alike, me and Brandon are more alike, but Brandon and Amanda look more alike, and Colin and I look alike.  See how that worked out? I always thought that was interesting.

Anyway, the Signature Room at the 95th is on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building.  Ben and I went here for our one year anniversary and had a great time. If you look in the picture on the website (not the one above, that is not us), we actually sat 3 tables up from the left corner in front of the window.  It was a $150 meal for two of us, but fun and romantic as well.  I thought it to be quite rediculous the way they priced their menu items though.  I believe I got the stuffed marsala chicken, and I asked for a side of broccoli.  The broccoli was extra, $7 dollars extra to be exact. The entrees do not include sides.  The individual garden salads were $8. My Bud Light was $7, but they poured it into a champagne glass, so I guess that made up for it...(heh.) Overall though, the candle lit, romantic ambiance, the live grand piano music, the beautiful view overlooking Navy Pier, it was all worth it.  We're just going for their lunch buffet this weekend though.  They have a pretty strict dress code for dinner guests, but lunch is just casual.  They just ask that you don't wear beach wear...I'm interested to see what my brothers will come up with.  Brandon's usual attire is jeans and a Grateful Dead or Primus tee, and Colin is an avid fan of Abercrombie and American Eagle attire. Colin told me he had a pair of high-top Jordans he would wear though...hopefully that will suffice.

Real quick before I leave work (I've been trying to finish this post for 3 hours...DAMN PHONE)...I found a video I'd seen on G4 quite some time ago.  It's supposed to be a teaser for the Halo movie they are supposedly in the midst of making...awesome video. Check it out if you even know what Halo 3 is...

Halo 3

G'night all!

Success!

Just so everyone knows, my first ever rump roast turned out amazing.  I made mashed potatoes, and used the broth to make gravy...It was good.