Category Archives: I Love the Holidays

Wal-Mart. A Love Story.

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So I wrote this back in early December, and for reasons to be revealed in the blog post I couldn’t post it. Until now.

Happy New Year’s yall!!

– Peach

 

 

 

Every. Fricking. Time.

Today: found an item on my Christmas shopping list for the BFE at walmart.com and, since i was so late in ordering, decided the “site to store” option would secure my item at a good price and i would leisurely walk up to customer services and pick it up. Right?? Ha.

First thing: no where on the site does it tell you where the “site to store” desk is located. So i headed to customer service and stood behind a girl that was smacking her head.

 

 

If you’re not familiar with the Smack Technique, let me explain: when your scalp itches, you smack your head instead of scratching it, usually to avoid messing up your hair (weave/ wig) or, if you’re getting a perm/relaxer soon, as this avoids irritating the scalp. It’s a fairly ghetto thing to do, and i am ashamed to admit that after learning about it in college (where most of our worst habits as people are formed) i have been a hair smacking offender from time to time, in between relaxers. This girl wasn’t waiting on her next Dark n’ Lovely fix; she was slapping her head to avoid messing up her rather ratty weave ponytail. I was a bit intrigued, and found myself staring without really meaning to: how often do you get to see that kind of train wreck up close?? The only thing that finally drew my eye away was the long false nail of the customer service rep.

 

Ever find yourself in a situation so crazy that you start looking behind pillars and corners, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out and say “you’ve been punked”?? Only, that never happens, a: because you’re not a celebrity and b: because that show isn’t even on the air anymore. So there’s nothing left but to realize that real life can be truly, truly crazy.

 

So – Yep, the customer service rep had one of the longest set of false nails I’d ever seen, and was missing at least three of them. I got a pretty good look at them as she was waving them in the face of a guy I can only assume was her baby’s daddy – not because I’m falling prey to stereotypes, but because she was specifically yelling at him about not picking up their son when he knew the kid needed to be at football practice. Guy just stood there taking the verbal lashing while standing awkwardly in jeans and a construction worker vest. Poor man. Yes, this was all happening while I stood in line behind Smack Weave Girl.

 

When I finally got to the front, I found out that the Customer Services desk is not the same as the “Site to Store” desk, and that was located at the back of the store. Le sigh. I counted my losses and figured I’d come away with the start of a good blog 🙂 and headed to the back of the store. Cutting through the men’s clothing section to save time and dodge the shopping carts, I got sniffed – yes, SNIFFED! – by a creeper near the men’s sweaters…

 

Finally reached the Site to Store section, which requires walking past the electronics section, and a display of the VERY ITEM I WAS THERE TO BUY (Call of Duty Black Ops II). Two things: 1 – I discovered that the Site to Store line is also the line for layaways at Christmas time, making for mass chaos. and 2 –  I couldn’t just forego the Site to Store line in favor or grabbing one of the games off the shelf, since I’d already paid for the other one online.

 

So I stood in line behind a woman wearing jeggings about a size too small, and watched another woman having a meltdown with her husband over a child’s pink ATV on layaway. Finally, I whipped out my phone and began to capture the entire experience. Got to the Smack Technique and realized that I couldn’t post this until I gifted the video game to the BFE unless I wanted to ruin the surprise. Le sigh again.

 

Oh, but the story doesn’t end there. One of the reasons I chose to pick up the game from Wal-Mart was because I also purchased the other half of BFE’s Christmas present – tickets to a hockey game – online, and selected the option to pick up hard tickets from, as Ticketmaster called it, a “retail location”. It wasn’t until I paid an extra $3.95 each that the website showed me that Ticketmaster’s “retail locations” for picking up tickets in my area were ALL Wal-Marts. So I thought I’d be smart and kill two birds with one stone, pick up the video game AND the tickets in one swoop. Too bad I picked the one Wal-Mart in my area that couldn’t print the tickets. So two days after my initial visit I found myself at another Wal-Mart, braving the crazy for my beloved BFE.

 

Get to the electronics section, since that’s where they print the tickets, and pass another display stand of Black Ops II games on my way to the cash register (the irony was not lost on me). The cashier prints my tickets… on receipt paper. I paid $3.95 for each ticket for RECEIPT PAPER!! What the hell?!?! Seriously??

 

I feel like Wal-Mart and Ticketmaster partnered together to jack me. Yes, JACK. ME! I ended up in Wal-Mart not once, but twice in the course of 3 days. I got entranced by a Customer Rep’s nails, watched the magical art of head smacking for ratty weaves, got sniffed by a creeper in the Men’s section, and finally got to investigate Jeggings up close. I didn’t even include the number of “pants on the ground” devotees I witnessed, and caught a guy checking out my rack. All in all, I think I got my Wal-Mart fill for the next 18 months. Until then, I return back to the safe, normal confines of Target, where all of the employees wear name tags and easily recognizable work-related clothing, and the only uncomfortable moments I’ve experienced have been hiding from Hot Doctor, walking into a stranger’s fart cloud, and stalking a Target employee named Bubba. Yep, Target, sweet Target.

 

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Pants Off… Everyday! Oh, Pink Tutus and a Peeping Tom too.

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So Pants Off Friday has kinda blown up into a clothing-free explosion! I am no longer restricted to just Fridays. Now it’s Pants Off Wednesday, Sunday, Thursday. Honestly, the only time I can guarantee full dress is when company is coming over. Right now I’m chilling on the couch in my pajama dress, trying not to resort to full Pants Off  Thursday. I have no idea when I bother. Just embrace my nature, right???

 

What’s new in the world of the Peach and the BFE… well, the BFE is working hard and loving his job, which is super awesome!! It’s wonderful to see him to happy and enjoying what he does. You can’t wish for more for someone, except maybe to hit the jackpot! We are going to a hockey game next week, which we’re both really excited about. I’m looking forward to beers!!! and fistfights on the ice! He’s a fan of the Tampa Bay Lightning, and I went to my first hockey game ever last week. It was a HOT MESS. I might write a post on my experience, so stay tuned. Any sport where the spectators can yell “beat his a$$!” while one player pummels another is alright in my book.

 

I started a new job recently, and it’s been crazy! I like it because it’s challenging and puts me out outside of my comfort zone. It’s forcing me to use my brain in ways I haven’t in a while… I’m back in a hotel, and having to think from a different perspective, speak to strangers, and not use the f-word quite so much. An added bonus is I get my own office!! which I plan to decorate for the holidays. I have a 3-foot tree with lights and decorations, and I even have an “apple spice and delight” scented candle in my office right now. Next I’ll bring in a gingerbread scented one!

 

Yes, I have an office! It’s exciting and lovely and I enjoy it. I’ve hung Audrey Hepburn pictures on the walls, and brought in nick-nacks, doo-dads and my little Travelocity Gnome to grace my bookshelves. When it’s not the holiday season I have a cotton candy scented candle that a friend gave me that makes the whole office  – and it’s primary resident (me) – smell like cannnndy! Although this breaks my cardinal rule – that big girls should NEVER smell like food – the effect is quite pleasant.

 

Candles are good for not just setting the mood, but also battling the one weird problem i my office. There’s a weird dog-food type odor near my desk, like someone mixed kibbles n’ bits together with kashi cereal (which is the consistently and flavor of dry cat food) and left a bowl of this mixture under my desk for my personal pleasure.

 

At least three times a day I find myself sitting in my office, working on BEOs and then… *sniff sniff* “where’s is that coming from?” I stop my work, and climb under my desk looking for the answer. I look crazy doing this, but what’s new. My co-workers should get a taste now of who they are working with. To date, I haven’t found the kashi-kibbles mix, just an old calendar and some post-it notes and a Cheerio, which I think is mine. Nevertheless, I know it’s there somewhere, taunting me. And ruining the effect of my holiday sensory experience.

 

Um… so yeah… I guess if that’s my biggest complaint on my new office I’m doing ok! The only thing missing from my office right now is the “emergency flask”… if you know what I mean.

 

What else is new? Sorry I haven’t posted in a while! The job offer and subsequent change happened really quickly, and right as the BFE and I were planning a weekend trip to Atlanta to visit the fam. We ended up taking Ojeda so he could have his first “Hotlanta” experience, and to go to a Baptist Church for the first time. Our trip, as it turned out, was over Pride Weekend, which added it’s own element of hilarity to the whole weekend. Our hotel overlooked Peachtree Street so we had a great view of the festivities. I understand that the guys especially enjoyed the parade of pink tutus on Saturday afternoon, while I was getting dressed. 🙂

 

This was my first trip home where I didn’t leave feeling really homesick and ready to plot my move back to Atlanta. I think we’re finally settling into a groove here in Orlando, and it feels like home, which is nice. Getting our own place – the BFE and I – really helped. It was a bonus for my pants-free habits, but also a really sweet little “nest” for us. It’s feels like our place.

 

Speaking of our place, our bedrooms windows are perfect for spying on our neighbors! We live catercorner to a super cute gay couple, and I enjoy spying on their entertaining and outgoing social life. Hey, it’s not wrong… it’s happening right outside my window. Which I have the blinds closed to. While I stare unabashedly to find out what’s going on. With the lights off so they can’t tell I’m a Peeping Tom. In my opinion it’s their bad for keeping their windows open! And being so loud when they fight.

 

The other night around 11pm they were arguing in the courtyard, and one of them stormed upstairs to pack up his things and leave. BFE and I were already in bed (we’re such an old couple, I mean, 11 pm and in bed? really???) but we woke up to someone shouting “dont f#cking touch me!” BFE gave me the play by play while I relaxed in bed. It was a nice bonding experience for us… stogether.

 

Hey don’t judge. every couple has their hobbies.

 

In unrelated news I just realized that my nightgown that I put on while enjoying Pants-Off Thursday is actually on inside out. I’ve been wearing it for 3 and a half hours and just now noticed. I think that’s a sign to log off now.

 

More posts to come again soon! Y’all miss me?

Maaaa! Mama! Mummy!! Mummy!! Mum! Mum! Mum!

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Sometimes it’s really fun to be a little awful, if you know what I mean.

I am totally jazzed, actually I’m PSYCHED about the Mother’s Day card I put in the mail to my mom yesterday.

There were a lot of cards to choose from… sappy ones, poem-y ones with pictures of flowers on them, ones with puppies, black and white photos kids holding hands. A couple of them that I guess are supposed to be from smart alecky college kids or teenagers that have pictures of animals dressed in hop clothing and saying things like “remember when you told me to clean my room?”

I was having a hard time choosing which one to send, a smart-alecky one, a poem-y one, or one with puppies… and THEN I found THE card:

I added the word bubble 🙂

She’s going to love it.

I even added a heartfelt message inside the card:

“Mother!!! Did this card make you gasp aloud in shock or roll your eyes? Then its done its job and is worth every penny. 🙂

I wanted to send you a Mother’s Day card that is as crazy and random and hilarious as I am… it I cant be there in body, then at least I’m there in spirit!

So Happy Mother’s Day Ma!

I hope you have a wonderful day full of surprises, laughter and love.

And pictures of hot dudes :)”

And then there’s the other part:

“MAAAAAAAA!

(and the card reads: I figured you’ve got enough pictures of flowers and cutesy animals by now)

You have to admit, he is pretty cute!

Happy Mother’s Day!”

Then there’s the final parting shot on the back that speaks for itself:

“I can’t think of anything clever o say. I’m sexy, not witty.”
Yes mam, you are.

This card ROCKS. It ROCKS SO HARD THAT I DO NOT KNOW THAT I CAN HANDLE IT. I hope when I have a kid I get a card like this.

Now I’m wriggling in anticipation of my mom getting this card. She and my dad are traveling this weekend, so she probably will not see it until late Sunday or Monday. I have a feeling that I’ll know the moment that she opens it.

Happy Mother’s Day!!!

How to Ruin Your NYE in Seven Easy Steps (and my NYE epiphany)

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Step 1: Find the cutest little furry boots to wear on NYE. Traipse around in them. Debate which cocktail would be best ro drink while wearing your cute new boots. Decide to drink mimosas made with champagne, orange juice and Grand Marnier (called the “Sultan’s Mimosa”). Sip. Admire cute new boots. Repeat. Drink another. Repeat for 2 more rounds.

Step 2: Wait a really long time to eat dinner, say, reservations at 8:50 pm in a very chi-chi French restaurant? Then wait some more until they seat you. Just in case you were like, REALLY hungry.

Step 3: Order (unknowingly) the greasiest item on the menu: braised beef short ribs. Notice the inch-thick strip of oozing fat on the meat, scrape off and eat most of the dish anyway, out of sheer hunger. Feel the strange bubble of horror growing in your stomach. Ignore it. Sample some of your boyfriend’s creamy lobster bisque. Wash that down with creme brulee. Lactose intolerance be damned!!

Step 4: Feeling kinda funny inside? That’s ok! Head to the nearest dance party in your cute furry new boots and gyrate as much as possible, churning your stomach’s contents into a high-velocity tilt-a-whirl. Still feeling funny? Put your big girl panties on, and walk it off. You’ll be fine.

Step 5: Until you puke in a public restroom. And get sick on your shirt. Barely miss hitting your new furry boots with the upended contents of your stomach. Maintain a tiny portion of your dignity by turn the shirt around backwards.

Step 6: Finally acquiesce to the BBE, who is insisting on taking you home. Limp through the parking lots in your new furry boots until they hurt so much that you – GASP! – take them off in the parking lot, walking to the car in your socks while the BBE carries your new furry boots. Watch the fireworks from your car while being driven home, huddled under the BBE’s coat, shivering in shame and sickness.

Step 7: Top off the night and ring in the new year! Make it home just in time for splashdown #2 (which as least happens in the comfort and privacy of your own bathroom) Finish the night in your pajamas with a trashcan by the bed in case of another incident, being handfed small bits of raisin toast by the BBE as you whimper quietly, vowing NEVER to eat short ribs or have the Sultan’s mimosas EVER again.

On a brighter note, the BBE was incredibly sweet and thoughtful throughout the whole thing, and reassured me repeatedly that I DID NOT ruin New Year’s for everyone (although I am still not convinced of this). He also helped me removed my sickly clothes, confirmed that I didn’t puke on my new furry boots, rubbed my back and put a cool washcloth on my neck while I kneeled to the porcelain god. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. So I guess I can say that, if anything, I might have missed the fireworks but I started the new year off with love. 🙂 …and some untainted and super cute new boots.

Earlier in December, I spent an afternoon at Magic Kingdom with the BBE, and in a fit of nostalgia decided to ride the spinning teacups after sharing a huge pineapple ice cream with the BBE. I am 33. Clearly, this had escaped me as I hopped into our teacup and began merrily swirling around the teacup ride, shrieking with delight. At least it was shrieks of delight UNTIL I began to feel woozy. I went from woozy to downright nauseous in less than 5 seconds, resulting in stumbling out of the teacup at the end of the ride, and being helped to a set of nearby benches by the BBE. I sat with my head between my knees for 15 minutes before I started to feel better. In an attempt to be a good sport, I agreed to ride Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin before we left.

Big mistake. HUGE. I barely made it home.

The whole led me to an epiphany: I can’t do or eat the things like I used to when I was younger! Not that I’m a geriatric already, but dang! Couldn’t I have had the sense to ride something a little tamer (like, say, ANY OTHER RIDE IN THE PARK?!?)? Apart from being lactose intolerant and therefore having NO business eating dairy, I certainly shouldn’t have climber my 33-year old ass into that effing teacup, thinking it would all turn out fine. I certainly thought that I’d learned my lesson. At least, I thought I’d learned my lesson until I ruined my New Year’s Eve using the Seven Easy Steps listed above.

I also had an epiphany on NYE: I am not as young as I used to be, and with that, I cannot drink like I used to, nor do I have the cast-iron stomach to handle all kinds of foods like I used to. I did not have much to drink that night, but the little I did have just combined in my stomach with the disappointing (and EXPENSIVE) cuisine to become the gastronomic equivalent of Chernobyl. I haven’t been able to eat a regular meal for three days without feeling sick or dry-heaving. Young people don’t have this problem!! And to drive this point home, JUST IN CASE I MISSED THE POINT, on Sunday morning I found yet another GRAY HAIR! Getting old sucks. But what’s the alternative?

 Hoping your New Year’s started off with love!

 – The Sunburnt Peach

Judge Me If You Want…

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So the other day some friends and I had a conversation about Santa Claus and I mentioned that I don’t remember ever believing in Santa Claus.

 

From the response I got you would have thought I’d said my family routinely drowned kittens at Christmas.

 

I don’t think that means I had a terrible childhood, do you? Maybe I did believe in Santa at some point, but I don’t remember that, and I don’t remember being told he didn’t exist. My parents put presents under the tree for my sisters and I: some were wrapped and had name tags on them, and some were placed there the night of Christmas Eve with no wrapping or tags. I don’t recall them ever saying “Santa left this for you”. I do remember being excited to see what wold appear under the tree on Christmas Eve.

 

A co-workers was telling me about a relative of hers that doesn’t want anyone to give her son toys for Christmas unless they say they’re from Santa… gifts of clothes and stuff can be from Aunt and Uncle, but the fun stuff has to be from St. Nick. Are you kidding me right now? Oh h#ll no… if I trekked my broke a$$ to Target to buy your child an expensive Fisher Price toy, you bet your sweet a$$ I’ll be writing my name on that effing card. How do you dictate gift giving? Who does that? Sometimes I think parents go wayyyyy too far to perpetuate the whole Santa conspiracy.

 

 

 

 

 

Another matter: I think the “Elf on a Shelf” phenomenon is utterly ridiculous. In fact, I agree with a friend of mine that calls it “lazy parenting”. To me it seems like you can’t control your kids’ behavior so you turn those duties over to a stuffed elf. A freaky looking stuffed elf that’s EXPENSIVE to buy, and comes with a change of clothes. That’s right: you can buy CLOTHING for your psycho stuffed elf.

 

For a while I kept my opinions of this elf of a shelf crap to myself, then I happened upon this super-hilarious blog from a woman who’s also fed up with the elf shenanigans. Another case of parents going to great lengths to perpetuate the consumer crazy. There are blogs and lists out there devoted to different activities you can make your elves do to surprise the kids each day: find the elf reading books, making “snow angels” in spilled flour on the counter, all kinds of foolishness. Honestly? I’m an adult, and I find those dolls a bit scary to look at, and I’d pee my pants if I noticed him moving locations all throughout my house without my knowledge. Even good kids would legitimately be freaked out by this.  Why terrorize your kids into good behavior during the holidays? Let’s be honest: if you were expecting good behavior all year long that elf would be  unnecessary. THAT ELF WOULD BE UNEMPLOYED.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a reincarnation of Ebenezer Scrooge. I love Christmas. I look forward to the magic of the Christmas season all year long. There’s something amazing and special about the lights, and the time you spend with families and friends… the food, the carols, the wonder, the Nativity. I’m just appalled that people think I’m nutso for not believing in Santa as a kid, and I’m shocked at how the whole elf thing has taken off.

 

I’m just sayin. You can still have an excellent Christmas without hoping that the freaky-looking stuffed elf is gonne report back to the North Pole so that a big fat white dude can shimmy down your chimney to give you presents.

 

Thanks for letting me rant,

 

 The Grinch

10 Days – 6 Places

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I am like, so behind! I should have posted this Saturday! Sorry folks… I’ll try and play catch up.

 

6 Places

 

 

6. A Bench in Edinburgh Scotland

My Edinburgh bench pic - taken before I got smashed at a Mexican restaurant at the top of the Royal Mile

In 2004 I went to the UK to visit Shann the Man, a friend of mine from Georgia who was studying abroad for a year, going to school at Northumbria University in Newcastle. Apart from being my first trip overseas, it was my first trip alone AND overseas. I had the best time, and still have lots of memories of going there. One I remember the most is a day trip we took to Edinburgh.

Edinburgh seemed like this green/gray new/old place, where people live within walking distance of so much history, where the grass is greener than I’ve ever seen but the skies are always gray. I loved the place the moment we stepped off the train. While wandering through this city that had completely captivated my heart, we took a walk in the park and came across a series of benches with plaques on them, dedicating those places to special people. One that caught my eye read “In Memory of Katherine L.W. Read, M.A., who loved this city”. That inscription just about broke my heart. I thought about the person that must have left such a deep mark that someone wrote out that dedication. So that I wouldn’t ever forget it, I took a picture which I occasionally pull out and marvel at.

 

 

5. In my car, riding down a tree-lined road, singing at the top of my lungs

Banyan tree-lined road on Little Gasparilla Island, FL

One of my favorite things to do is drive down a beautiful winding road, watching the scenery a bit and singing at the top of my lungs. It’s one of my favorite places to be is in my car. Susie Miranda.

That’s right: I named my car. I love my car. She’s been good to me, and she’s the first car I’ve purchased, on my own, without help from my parents. The best part is the cd player! I put in mixed CDs I make and toodle around town, singing my favorite songs at the top of my lungs. I have my own little karaoke session every day – in my car.

 

 

4. Cafe Intermezzo, Atlanta

This European-style cafe holds so many memories – many evenings spent with happy friends, dawdling over hot chocolate, coffee and amazing desserts (which I of course had no business eating, but how do you say no to homemade oreo cheesecake?!). They’re open until 4am every night and don’t ever rush you. We’d sit there for hours just talking about those “life or death” situations that were so important to college student… which in the end was super silly but those nights are part of the glue that held my friends together.  Every time I go home to visit I try to stop by.

 

 

3. The arms of the one I love

When I think of this place, words like “safe”, “comfort”, “happiness” come to mind. I’ve never been very demonstrative when it comes to relationships, but seeking comfort in his arms just comes naturally. It’s a place I look forward to being at the end of the day, and a wonderful place to wake up in too.

Nothing says lovin' like carving your girlfriend's pumpkin.

Feet in the sand, utterly content.

sheepish happiness... baaaaaah 🙂

 

 

2. Anywhere my friends are.

Some friends are fun people to hang around. Some friends are great lunch buddies. Other friends become a part of your family with shared memories and laughter that help form who you are.

I am lucky to have friends that are family. Wherever they are is a place I want to be. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. Christmas with the folks

A place I look forward to every year, with all of our weird traditions, and booze, and laughter and arguments and silent treatments and hilarious surprises (my mom once stuck LUBE in my Christmas stocking) it’s one of the very best parts of being in my family.

I remember one year almost choking on a sip from my littlest sis’s hot apple cider because I hadn’t realized that she’d spiked it with Crown Royal… both of my sisters insist on the three of us sleeping in the same bed on Christmas Eve, and we drive each other mad by pinching each other WITH OUR TOES. Once my dad gave me a dish rack for a Christmas gift. Who wouldn’t want to go home to that?!?

 

 

As I was working on this list I thought at first I’d think about places I want to go, trips I want to take. Instead, I ended up focusing on places I’ve been and the people that make them special. What’s more important, thinking about the want-tos or the already-haves 🙂

Zombie Apocalypes vs. the Dentist

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I’ve never been a huge fan of Halloween. So I’m sure you can imagine my dismay when 2 zombies walked into our office recently.

It was a Halloween prank, as it turned out. Nevertheless, I was torn between my disgust for zombies and all they stand for, and my urge to whip out my smartphone and take a pic. Obviously, the smartphone won out.

Zombies have been on the brain lately (bahahaha! get it? BRAINS! brrraaaiiiinnsss!). During the Halloween season, some of my favorite channels (History Channel, Discovery Channel and the Travel Channel) feature more shows about haunted houses, the scariest places in America, and other fun stuff. Recently, History Channel did a piece on zombies, and what a zombie apocalypse would look like. It was compared to the bubonic plague. They even brought in a weapons expert to highlight the items to best use as defense against zombie attacks. Weird but interesting, right?

Ever since then, I have been asking myself: would I survive a zombie apocalypse? Would I be one of the select few that makes it to safety, or would I be live fodder for the Undead? I’d like to think I’m scrappy enough to make it through, but I’ve started thinking about things in relation to the zombie apocalypse (or ZA for short).

Take spinning class, for example. Spinning and I have a love/ hate relationship. I love how bad ass I feel afterwards, but during the class, I’m praying to the Baby Jesus, God and his angels to take me far, far away to a land of bubble baths and wine. I make deals with myself: if I can make it through the first 30 minutes, then I can get off the bike (it’s just reverse psychology, since I stay the whole class, but it works). Today’s spinning class took on a new edge when I started thinking about it in terms of ZA… what makes spinning so important?

  1. Losing weight means I’m less meaty and therefore less of a target
  2. Spinning makes me more competent in a bicycle, so that should I have to use a bike for a speedy getaway, I’m a swiftly moving, less meaty target.

Another example is weight loss. How does weight loss relate to the Zombie Apocalypse? Simple.

  1. Less me (like less weight) allows me to move faster away from zombies.
  2. Getting used to eating less means that my stockpile of Zombie Apocalypse hideout food will last longer.
  3. Losing weight means I’m less meaty and therefore less of a target.
  4. Gaining muscle mass helps me to better wield my zombie-fighting weapons.
  5. Better healthy will allow my body to fend off the prions the spark the zombie apocalypse.

Seriously! Looking at your regular challenges and obstacles from the perspective of a zombie apocalypse really helps re-focus your energy. I can remind myself constantly of why weight loss is important is I want to have kids, live a healthy life, travel, etc. but NOTHING motivates you like outrunning a hungry raving zombie.

Preparing for the zombie apocalypse even got me through my dental appointment last week.

I hadn’t been to the dentist since I was like… 8? So you can imagine how stressed out I was.  I have a cracked tooth, plus wisdom teeth that had never come out. I knew there would be lots of things the dentist would have to do, and I was super nervous that it would be painful and traumatizing. At the end of the day, though, it wasn’t really bad. I have a few things scheduled for future visits, but my visit only ended with a “debridement” which I guess is a more rigorous type of routine cleaning. Deep cleaning is typical for people that haven’t been to the dentist in a while, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Cleaning sounds normal, right? I thought I’d be fine, I really did. But that was before the debridement actually began. It hurt. Not a lot but enough. And the scraping was uncomfortable. Did I mention that weird water pick thing? Outside of wheedling my way into BBE’s good graces, I hadn’t whimpered aloud in front of another human being in YEARS, yet I whimpered more than once just to let Janet the Dental Hygienist of Horror know that she was causing me pain.

Ah, Janet. The Dentist Hygienist of Horror. SHE is definitely one that will survive the impending apocalypse. She’ll kill them will her torturous drill of death! As I lay back int he chair, trying to suss my whimpering and take my cleaning like a big girl, I began to think “you know what would be worse? the Zombie Apocalypse.” From there I began to recount reasons why having healthy teeth and gums would be ideal:

  1. If I have healthy teeth I won’t be screwed like Tom Hanks was in Castaway when he had to yank out his own abscess tooth.
  2. Strong teeth will be needed to chew through the rougher foods that we will subsist on after the breakdown of first world civilization.
  3. Teeth can be used as weapons… although I don’t want to get close enough to a zombie to test that theory.

After I was done, Janet, the Wonderful and Awesome Harbinger of Dental Hygiene talked to me about the good state of my teeth and habits. Smiling, I left her office, and headed out into my zombie free world.