Yes.

I realize that it’s Thursday night and I have not posted since Monday.

It’s not like I have weirdies (and before we go any farther- yes. I also realize that “weirdies” isn’t technically a word, however it is most definitely a commonly used word in my B-Love dictionary) stalking my blog hourly or anything, but I do feel like I should call out and apologize for the fact that it’s been a few days since I’ve last posted.

I have no idea why.

Do you ever just feel tired of technology?

That’s sort of how I was feeling this week.

I mean we’re SURROUNDED by technology everywhere we turn. Ha- I even make my living off the stuff.

The truth is that the thought of taking time to peruse the Internet after work this week made me groan. I just felt like turning off my phone, ignoring the computer, and being a technology hermit this week.

Many of you will gasp at the fact that I haven’t checked my facebook in over a week.

Heresy I know!

I’ve just felt sort of “blah” and didn’t have any desire to log on here and yammer about nothingness.

...

Which I realize I’m doing this.very.second.

Anyway, I think getting off the computer and phone and (gasp) the TV is a good idea every now and then. I mean, there is this thing called “outside” and it should be enjoyed from time to time. No wonder we are the way we are (lethargic, overweight...)- we’ve forgotten that it used to be very normal to go outside and do things!

I know what you’re thinking-

who in the world do I think that I am talking all this crazy stuff about getting off the computer and possibly even the TV to enjoy life and breath fresh air.

I know!

I’m out of my mind!

I have no idea what’s come over me, but I think it’s not all bad.

So, sorry for the few day hiatus, don’t worry- I’m not taking a blogging break. I’m just going to try to enjoy life outside of the box I’m staring out right now and realize there’s life outside of the internet.

So you guys go and do the same!!

Dr. Vet’s wedding shower is Saturday. I have this super long story to share with you guys about the whole matter.

In short- there’s more to come.

<3

The famous Gym Nazi bruise is posted to the right.

Disgusting.

I don’t know what’s more disgusting- the bruise itself or the fact that I actually decided to share it with you guys.

Probably both.

I almost embedded it within this post, but I have to draw the line somewhere, right?

Happy Easter <3

I really want to sit down and tell you guys about the slave driver of a gym Nazi I worked out with Sunday.

She kicked my…

well…

you know.

“How in the HELL did I get this GIANT purple and red bruise on my inner thigh!?”

I have no clue.

Oh- that’s right-

It was probably when she stepped on my leg and told me I sucked and “You CAN do 40 more lunges or I’ll cut you!”

Yeah…

I think it was that.

Anyway- I want to tell you about the Gym Nazi but I can’t.

Apparently marriage is about sharing everything.

The last Little Debbie Nutty Bar,

the living room TV,

the last Little Debbie Nutty Bar (crap. I already said that one...).

Well apparently now I also have to share our computer from 9-10 pm.

That’s right- Willy Boy is cutting into my blogging time. My gym Nazi storytelling time. My unwinding time.

Long story short- we’re having DVR issues (gasp!) so we can’t tape and instead have to watch a show on fox.com tonight “that simply can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Doesn’t he understand my need to blog?

A GIANT PURPLEY-RED BRUISE.

ON MY INNER THIGH.

The people need to know!

THIS GIRL IS A GLUTTON FOR PUNISHMENT.

Sigh… he just doesn’t get it.

So- I’m off to share now- although I really don’t recall this computer crap being anywhere in our vows.

Here’s to healing- and a mediocre, not so great workout tomorrow.

<3

The following is an “everyday,” typical email exchange with my sister. My emails are in bold, hers are regular.I realize the fat talk gets old after a while, but I promise we switch topics from Panamanian prisons, to calculating tips, to even our own reality show during this conversation- so hang with me.These took place on two different days, but they flowed so well I lumped them together. Let the madness begin...

I just ate a whole pint of chocolate ice cream.

And it wasn’t even GOOD ice cream.

I think that that calls for me to use the elliptical tomorrow for the first time since last summer. I feel like I should celebrate this red-faced, sweaty momentous occasion with a donut or something.

**

Ha ha. I just had a large Java Chiller from Sonic- which is basically a whole pint of chocolate ice cream with a hint of coffee. I didn’t go to the gym at all this weekend and I had olive garden WITH dessert yesterday.

Fat.

**

Ughhh I KNOW. And- ugh i just don’t want to go back to school. I say we quit talking crap and book the tickets.

PS- I hope your Olive Garden dessert was good.

**

It was. Black tie. Yum. Plus I had fettuccine (um how in the world do people expect you to know how to spell that!?) which- well- you know how amazing that is.

We’ll sort all the logistics out when we get there. Although “fat,” I’m sure some Panamanian would love to give us a job at Panama Jacks waitressing. The only trouble is that I would suck at getting proper change and would most likely get us fired in a hurry.

**

Ha, that’s SO TRUE. Somehow the tip would be like “10% of 100” or something. Then we would get charged with embezzlement for taking an extra 80 dollars. Then wind up in Panamanian prison. Which wouldn’t be all bad, considering we could be the Scolfield’s. I definitely get Lincoln.

I’m sorry I can’t type properly, my fingers are so huge, swollen, and fat from the dairy I just consumed.

A flower shop would be nice! We could go the simple route an own a cafe, and employ Panamaniann business students (who know how to calculate tips so we wouldn’t be
getting screwed).

Are you at work?

**

We are so resourceful- your plan is brilliant! Actually- I used to think we sucked at being resourceful but then we went on the cruise and functioned totally fine in like 19 cities. I know for sure we’ll kick butt on amazing race one day.

I’m having 2 PB sandwiches for lunch. Why do I feel nostalgic all of a sudden? Like I need a blue mat to nap on and a carton of milk??

**

My favorite food ever. I decided a while back that if I was living on a deserted island alone for the rest of my life, peanut butter and/or reeses would DEFINITELY be my food of choice. Seeing as I wouldn’t have to worry about all the saturated fat I was consuming since I would never see anyone ever again, it works. What about you?

**

That is hilarious- and a very valid point. I think I would go with that too, or perhaps pasta. I could eat loads and loads and if I was able to take different sauces too (which is something I assume you have to negotiate in when preparing to go to a deserted island forever...) I’d be set for life.

And happy.

When do you leave for Kuwait?

**

I leave on your anniversary. Thank the Lord. Its been 3 weeks since I was there last and I feel like it’s been too long. How could anyone possibly think I like it here? AHHHH I need to start this Panamanian flower shop business ASAP.

**

We ought to make a countdown to the semester’s end and you move back. Seriously. What’s you’re last day of school? How fun would that be!? I could make the first half and you could make the 2nd half. We wouldn’t have to make it a chain or anything, but just something you could pull off and throw away.

The chain reminds me of the one in Mareena Towers. As crazy as it sounds, when I look back that summer was pretty fun

(Just FYI- if you’re curious you can read about this time during the summer of 2005 archives)

**
Oh my gosh me too. It was the weirdest time of my life, such a crazy transition period. I have a playlist for that summer titled “MIA” for 2 reasons: 1) we never left that apartment 2) M.I.A’s “bucky done gun” was a very integral part of that summer hahaha. But yeah, it’s so so bittersweet to think about that. It’s the last time we’ll have ever lived together under one roof.

**

I think we should SERIOUSLY send these back and forth emails to someone, plus our goofy videos and make them make us famous. We should have a reality show about creating our Panamanian flower shop. ha ha. How great would that be? Plus highly entertaining. Seriously- I’m in need of that. People are so fickle. Family is forever..

**

OMG YES, a reality show about the making of our new life. Do you know how well that would work? We could start this season while we’re still apart, so it would mainly focus on the emails. And then we could start season 2 when we’re in the same country and ahhhhhhh tiny orgasm, I think viewers would LOVE US. You live in America, the land of endless possibilities- make it happen!

**

sidenote- her email above makes me laugh every singly time. Tiny orgasm HAHAHAHA...

Seriously- I’m literally laughing out loud right now. It’s a little embarrassing and I’m glad everyone is gone to lunch.

**

Sorry to disregard your last email, but I blame you for the fact that I just consumed 7 servings of peanut butter with honey since you reminded me of peanut butter, which then reminded me that I still had some in my cupboard, and BOOO, NO ALLI.

Haha anyways, seriously? Will you PLEASE look into a director? Because even if we get one season and they hate us, we’ll still get a book deal (uh, you can write it) and then a few endorsements. OH! MAYBE WE CAN BE THE NEW FACE OF ALLI. I love it.

**

Very good and valid points. Okay so I assume you’re about to go to bed. Oh- and want to know something funny? I had no idea that we sprang (sprung HAHA springed? I have no idea...) forward this weekend. dad had to tell me. Too funny. Anyway- that means we’ll be an hour closer now so that’s really great!

Alright, I’m off to file some stuff. I’ll be in constant contact with you tomorrow. Have a good night and talk to you tomorrow!

**

Wait, ugh, I have no idea how many hours apart we’ve been this whole time. I usually just say 8, wherever I am in the world. “Oh you’re in Kenya, great, only 8 hours away!” “You’re in St.Petersburg, brilliant,. 12 your time, 8 my time” ……I never usually think there’s any other time in between. Please tell me we’ve always been 8 hours apart since I moved.

**

Just so you know- I’m lying when I tell you this- yes, we are 8 hours apart. I’m such a good sister, right?

<3

I know what you’re thinking.

I have a problem.

A drug problem.

That there is no such thing as “recreational” drug use.

That after one hit of Alli there is no going back.

You feel the high of controlling your fat intake because you’re terrified of crapping yourself,

the rush of oily farts as you think to yourself, “ Ohhh yeeahh, I am so addicted to this stuff. I <3 greasy gas."

You're right- that's exactly how it happened. Exactly how I became addicted.

It was that glamorous.

Okay not really-

after the first time I ate an order of mozzarella sticks, four cheese tortellini, half a loaf of bread, and a giant chunk of cheesecake I thought to myself, "I'll just take this one time."

One try won't hurt, right?

Before I knew it I was up to a three pill a day habit, figuring out when I was going to get my next fix. What I was going to eat- how much fat was involved....

trying to explain to Will how the hell the toilet was stained OSU orange…

before I knew it I was out of control!

P and I split a bottle- driving to every single Walgreens and CVS pharmacy trying to get our next fix- only we couldn't find any.

We began shaking and experiencing uncontrollable sweating and hallucinating- we were so addicted that we even drove to another city to secure another bottle of these little fat loss miracles.

As we split a "starter pack," ensuring we threw away the evidence in a dumpster three blocks away I felt a sense of peace. The shakes and scary flying goblins left my mind and I felt like myself again.

It was at this point- after driving to another city- that I realized I had a problem and I needed help.

Or maybe it was when P and I began to run low on our stash and actually contemplated cutting the pills open and using a credit card to separate the pills to get two hits out of one.

It could have also been at the point in which P and I turned the noun Alli into a verb- "Are you going to Alli after you eat that cheese pizza?"

"Are you going to Alli after scarfing down those three donuts?"

"We should probably Alli if we're going to eat these giant hamburgers at 1 AM."

Yeah, that might have been my low point.

My name is Brittny and I have an Alli-ing problem.

Not to be confused with the Alli side effects:

(sidenote: um- that’s pretty much freaking hilarious)

Yeah- it was at that point in which I decided I needed to get a hold of myself. Eating an occasional cheeseburger was far more desireable than crapping one’s self. Right?

I thought so too.

So, I got a hold of myself and became a “recreational” Alli user. It’s a lot easier to control- I’ll tell you that much! (ha ha!)

So there you have it- my drug problem and how I became a “recreational” user.

Anything weighing you down (if so- maybe you should “Alli")? Go ahead and share!

I seriously need to go to the gym.

And clean our bathrooms.

Did I tell you guys I have a strict cleaning regimine?

I think I did.

Why do I feel as though I need to tell you again?

Oh-

probably because I’m totally procrastinating.

Big time.

I believe that’s why.

But for the sake of needing to post, how about we just pretend it’s because, “The Public Needs to Know.”

Good idea?

I think so.

Moving on-

Okay- so I clean a different room in my house every week day.

And for some really ridiculous and nerdy reason, I oftentimes (Hmm- is “oftentimes” a word? I don’t think so. I should most definitely use spell check to verify. But that would mean I was being proactive and not procrastinating- which we’ve already established I’m doing… let’s just roll with it being one word, okay?) try to clean the bathrooms on Sunday in order to have “a day off” during another part of the week. What a nerd. I know.

So in all truthfulness, today isn’t even an actual “scheduled cleaning day” for me, yet I’m avoiding it like the plauge.

Because I’m officially crazy.

And no other reason.

The gym?

Yeah- I have no excuse for that. I just don’t want to go- plain and simple.

So instead I sit on the couch lamenting about how I need to do these two things and not actually doing them.

Because apparently I want to balloon into a million pounds and appear on Dr. Phil for having one of the most hazardous houses in America.

That’s the only thing I can think of as to why in the world I’m not getting off the freaking couch and doing something productive.

And can I share something- between the two of us, of course?- sometimes Dr. Phil seriously annoys me.

I mean yeah sure, he’s Dr. Phil and great and wonderful and helpful-

but sometimes he really annoys me.

I won’t get into it- but seriously? Yeah…

Anyway,

I’m sitting here wasting valuable time that I could be cleaning doing absolutely nothing. I already know I’m going to do these things- I know it- it’s just a matter of seriously dragging my feet.

And having absolutely no desire to do any of the above mentioned items.

Oh- and I would apologize for starting virtually every sentence with “and” (because I think my former English teachers would most defintiely be shoving a #2 pencil in their right eye)- but again, I’m procrastinating and obviously showing my crazy wreckless abandonment for the important things in life.

Or something like that…

So I guess I will stop wasting the afternoon and get started.

I seriously miss Ranjii (my maid in Kuwait).You have no idea.

Sigh…

Enjoy the last of the weekend! I know I am (ha ha). 

This weekend Will and I are supposed to start going through the LOADS and HEAPS of crap we brought back from Kuwait that have remained in foot lockers.

It needs to be done guys- seriously.

Did you know I have an elliptical we shipped over that we haven’t even put together because we need to first create space in the 3rd garage area?

We really need to do this.

But I have a really bad feeling we’re going to put it off-

again.

Let’s hope not. My thighs are going to be really pissed if we don’t. 

It’s after 9:00 on a “gym night” which means I need to be in bed. I tend to be fairly dedicated about getting up to go to the gym in what I like to call “the middle of the night,” however lately what I like to call “fatness” has gotten the best of me.

Ha ha “quotations.” They’re so funny.

And annoying.

Anyway-

Will has been going with me in the morning too, so that’s been nice.

Okay- actually he’s been with me like twice- but still- I count it as a victory.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?

If I keep making trifles and candy bar cookies and 27,000 calorie cake we might be forced to live life from a queen size bed in which we take turns rolling each other over so as to avoid bedsores.

Nice.

Something about moving home has brought out the domestic goddess in me-

Where has she been all my life!?

Okay- so I’m exaggerating.

A lot.

I don’t have any creativity inside of me.

I will say, however, that moving back has brought out the desire to cook- which is good and bad.

Good: This morning I made myself a fresh fruit smoothie

Bad: I made a trifle that weighed 6 pounds.

Do you know how long one would have to be on an elliptical to burn that crap off?

We’re not talking minutes.

Think hours.

Like- I was 25 when I got on this thing and will be 26 when I get off.

But that doesn’t seem to stop me.

My willpower is like that of a bloodhound being let loose in a meat locker.

(that means I don’t have any)

Anyway- I don’t feel as large since I know I’ll be going to the gym in the morning.

Because we’re “easing” Will into the gym, I’ve been gracious enough to forego my usual hour and a half workout for just one hour. I figure I’ll do an hour of cardio tomorrow and an hour of weights the next day. I hate not doing both- but oh well.

…

And wow- I just realized what a boring post this has becoming.

Or always was.

I would apologize, but then I think to myself, “I’m soooo entitled to a boring piece of crap post every now and again (cough- or every third day…).” It’s not easy thinking up interesting crap to share!

But you guys already know that.

Okay- if you’re still hanging with me, here’s a story I’ll share.

P hates working out.

She hates working out because it makes her face red.

And she sweats.

How dare someone sweat at the gym- right!?

Anyway- I made her workout with me on the cruise several times.

Sort of.

She loved every minute of it.

Ha.

I will say, though- she did overcome her fear of “gym-ing.”

Sort of.

So one day we go to the gym and it’s really busy- and full of cute boys.

I get there and start getting ready to work out and P has like this huge conniption fit.

Like she wants to scratch my eyes out and disown me as her sister.

She refuses to work out and (with her phone in hand) says the following all flustered:

“I left my phone in the room, Britt!

I have to go! I have to get my phone! I have to go, Britt!”

She darts and goes back to the room.

For someone that hates working out- she sure can sprint.

I’m not lying- the girl hates working out in front of a crowd.

Huh.

It was hilarious when it happened. I could see the stress in her eyes at the thought of working out with a crowd. I thought she was going to have a panic attack.

Reading it here? Isn’t as funny. Oh well. I always like telling P stories. They’re fun.

Speaking of- I think I might share a secret with you guys about me and P sometime soon.

(Private to P: do you think we should tell them about The Village? Not for them to come and screw things up- but just so that they’re aware? Perhaps you can share when you guest write for me next week)

Anyway- back to the matter at hand (if there really is a matter at hand)- the gym.

Here are a few things you should be listening to while you’re there (well- this is what I am listening to right now anyway):

-Mindcircus By Way Out West- (download the version that’s on Tiesto’s In Search of Sunrise 3 cd. It’s the Gabriel & Dresden Mix)
-Open You Eyes should follow Mindcircus. It’s the next song on the In Search of Sunrise cd. That’s one thing I love about working out to trance, it all flows together so you’re always keeping the same pace

Actually- just buy it all.

All of the In Search of Sunrise cds.

That will save me a ton of time…

-Nothing But You (Club Mix), Paul Van Dyk

-This Time (Klass Remix), DJ Antoine

Okay.

That’s enough.

I’m sure I’ve lulled you to sleep- and I need to do the same.

Those calories don’t burn themselves.

…

Or something like that…

My company encourages me to come to work sick.

It’s quite unfortunate, actually.

See, we’re granted “X” amount of general leave hours each year. There’s no special set days off for being sick, it’s all lumped into one “general leave” pool of days. So- if you take a sick day you’re actually losing a vacation day.

I call this The No Fun Zone.

You see, I’d rather come to work with mucous running uncontrollably out of my left nostril, hacking up loogies (ha ha- how do you spell “loogies??”) the size of a Christmas ham, and sneezing on every open surface available than use one of my general leave days to call in sick.

My coworkers love me.

Okay- I’ll be honest- I’m not fond of people who come to work sick either. 

My left eye begins to twitch at the thought of Mr. Accountant handing me damp papers full of remnants of his last sneeze. 

“GO HOME!! YOU’RE INFECTING THE ENTIRE OFFICE!” I want to yell.

However, I can sort of empathize with Mr. Accountant, because really- who wants to blow a vacation day when you’re sick!? You want to blow a vacation day when you’re on-

VACATION.

What an idea, right?

So- I have become the person I hate.

The come-to-work-sick-employee.

Shudder.

The truth is- most of us are the come-to-work-sick-employees. It’s like a race to see who can get rid of their ailments the fastest.

It’s the “If I’m miserable, I’m bringing everyone down with me” mentality.

Like a game.

I’m not kidding.

“Oh hi Jane! How are you (hack, hack, hack)?”

Two days later and Jane is down with a cold and Sam has made a full recovery.

I’ve found wet, snotty tissues “misplaced” on my desk the other day.

HA- I know what you’re trying to do Mr. Finance! You’re trying to bring me down!

You’re trying to hold me back.

You’re trying to stick it to the (wo)MAN!

I’m on to you- I see how you play.

Work is no longer just about getting the job done.

It’s about survival.

Survival I say!

It’s as though we’re being broadcast on Animal Planet and the terrifying mother Cheetah Cold Virus Middle Manager is hunting for her helpless gazelle Administrative Assistant.

It’s a perpetual relay race of Passing The Cold.

And sadly- I lost.

I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that donut randomly lying on my desk.

That was a rookie mistake!

Anyway…

Because I took 3 weeks off for the cruise in August I’m in mega (I mean MEGA) vacation debt. I think it will be like 5 years before I’m back to “0” and finally accruing general leave hours again. However, thankfully I was able to purchase 4 days this year- you know just incase I catch a cold want to leave the state of Oklahoma at some point this year.

4 days.

FOUR DAYS.

For the entire year.

The entire year.

So-

Unfortunately I caught the aforementioned (and stricken) cold.

Because of The Random Donut

HOWEVER-

I’ll be darned (yes- that’s right DARNED) if I’m going to use one of my purchased days off to recover.

So I’ve been snotting, and hacking, and choking all over myself (and anyone in a 7 foot radius). I’ve had tears streaming down my face in attempts to hold back coughing fits. I sound like Death and/or Satan when I speak because my voice is so low and throaty and sickly and deathly.

I’m also a JOY to be around.

Really- I am.

I’ve tried my best to avoid what I call the Damp Paper Handoff as mentioned earlier. I mean- you gotta set limits, right? While I may have lost this maniacal game of Pass The Cold- I honestly have no desire to bring anyone down with me.

With my luck I’d get it right back and end up using the last of my vacation days shaking on my couch in a feverish stupor.

Nice.

So- here’s to a speedy recovery-

and a nice, long, four day vacation somewhere fun.

Or not…

Tag- you’re it!

I was up before 5:00 yesterday morning with a sick husband and barking dog.

Why are men so much worse about being sick than women? Seriously!

I don’t think men could ever handle pregnancy or childbirth or PMS… they’re the biggest babies ever!

“Feel my head.”

“I’m shivering.”

“Ow! My body is achy.”

“Will you make me tea? It tastes better when you do it, and I don’t know how.”

Sigh. I love him, and I know I’m bad too, but at 5:00 in the morning!?! Yeah- it’s enough to drive me batty.

In sickness and in health, right?

I had to go to three different stores yesterday- three!

Two pharmacies were closed until 10:00, so I decided to bite the bullet and go to Wal-mart.

Amazingly, their pharmacy was closed until 10:00 too.

Sigh.

For some ridiculous reason Will wanted me to talk to a pharmacist. Apparently because I’m a moron sitting in a pile of my own drool and can’t piece together the fact that a runny nose, sore throat, and slight fever equaled a freaking cold or possibly the flu.

Sigh.

I was over waiting until 10:00 to talk to a pharmacist. I grabbed a box of Tylenol Cold, a thermometer, juice, and a bag of Soft Batch cookies.

The cookies? Yeah- those were for me.

For my troubles.

For my strength in nursing my poor sick husband back to health.

I believe this purchase was TOTALLY justifiable and does not count towards my, “Eat healthier Resolution (I use that term very loosely, by the way).’”

He should be glad I didn’t buy vodka!

Only kidding.

Kind of…

And another week begins…