Tag Archives: hot

Why’s it so HOT?!


For some reason this morning I relayed the following ENTIRELY TRUE story to the BBE. He cried laughing.

Littlest Sis and I are about 6 years apart, so when I was in college, she was just starting high school. While in school, she developed her talents in competitive swimming – a sport that won her a full ride at Howard University later.

Anyhoo, in the summer, her coach had them up at 5 am every morning to swim. 5 am. 5-fricking-am. In the morning. Sometimes she’d get up, swim in the morning and be back home before I was even up to go to work. Since she was also in the marching band she sometimes had band practice over the summer too, and would have to go back for 4 hours practices in the afternoons. Compared to her,  I felt like my 12-hour, 6-day work week at my summer theme park job was like vacationing in the Keys. It was nuts.

Her room was across the hall from mine, and I walked out in to the hall one summer morning and saw Little Sis, passed out on the floor, halfway in the hall, halfway in her room. She was half-dressed, as if she’d fallen asleep while putting her pants on. Naturally, it tugged at my heartstrings and I had to find out if she was okay.

I nudged her with my foot. “Hey, hey!” Groggily, she rolled over and spoke, without opening her eyes. “What?” “Do you realize you’re like, naked in the hallway? Why are you on the floor?”


Littlest Sis had apparently been getting dressed, became tired and decided to take a quick nap. On the floor halfway in the hall. With one leg in her pants. I urged her to at least nap under a blanket. With this parting advice, I left Little Sis in the hallway and went about my morning ritual.


30 minutes later I emerged from the bathroom, fully showered and dressed only to find Little Sis in the exact same position that I’d left her – only she’d pulled a small blanket off her bed and wrapped herself up like a fricking burrito.


It might be a good time not to point out that Littlest Sis was a little … klepto… but only when it came to my stuff and Middle Sis’s stuff. In this case, she’d wrapped herself in my old baby blanket that had been lovingly crocheted for me before I was even born. It was a lovely yellow and white blanket that my mother had put aside for me and I’d HOPED I’d pass on to my kids. Little Sis found the blanket one day and become unreasonably attached to it. At the age of 12. So by the time she was 16 (when this story took place) my lovely baby blanket was a sad mass of loose yellow and white yarn akin to bad scrambled eggs.

Again I nudged her with my foot. Sleepily, she awoke, cuddled snuggly in MY baby blanket. “What are you doing?!?” I asked, to which she responded by wrinkling up her face, eyes still half closed and said “why is it so HOT?!”


I sighed and just left her there. When I tried to remind her about it later, she swore that it never happened.


What the hell?!? This is my family, my rather odd, somewhat quirky yet altogether lovable family. The stories I tell about them are true and accurate. Every once in a while I share one or two with the BBE to give him an idea of what he’s getting into when he goes with me to meet them in two weeks… that’s right! The Sunburnt Peach and the BBE are taking a road trip!


Stay tuned! I’m sure there will be more stories. 🙂

Facebook Faux Pas(s)

  1. Posting vague and emotional updates that just make everyone ask “are you ok?” “what’s wrong?” To me that just screams “I NEED ATTENTION! I AM SO EMO!” To the helplessly emo, I say “perhaps try blogging? Or maybe get a cat?”
  2. Posting status updates that are really just inside jokes so only you and 2 other people will understand. Seriously??? That’s what text messages are for. Inside jokes should stay inside.
  3. Hashtags on Facebook. Those are twitter-only, people! (although I have committed this sin myself)
  4. The post where people feel the need to announce that they’re going to start deleting their friends on Facebook. Just effing delete them and move on. No need to prompt a discussion and ask people to vote on whether they should be deleted. Just for that, I am deleting you.
  5. The posts where people announce they’re leaving Facebook. We don’t care. PEACE OUT.
  6. Whenever Facebook changes, like a FONT, everyone starts complaining about the changes. (also a sin I have committed. but no longer!)
  7. People that update their Facebook status every time they breathe in or out, go to the bathroom, turn on the tv, etc. Again – as I twitter user myself, I refer you to the world of twitter, where you can share your farts to your heart’s desire. Or possibly? Maybe keeping the running commentary where it belongs: in your head.
  8. Attempting to “re-friend” someone after you’ve been “de-friended”. I know people who are scared to de-friend folks because of the verbal backlash they’ll receive the next time they see the person. I also have personally received “refriend” requests by the same person THREE TIMES. Should I send a memo?
  9. Please don’t make me “like or repost this status” if I like child abuse, animal rights, your particular religious views, cancer, etc. Firstly I don’t “like”  child abuse or cancer, no one does. Secondly, it makes me seem like a douche for not supporting cancer patients when in reality I don’t want to post your grammatically incorrect status on my Facebook.
  10. Farmville, Farmtown, Sorority Row – STOP sending me requests to get bejeweled, bedazzled or grow tomatoes. I don’t want to join your vampire coven on facebook nor do I want to build a shopping village. DELETE.
  11. YouTube videos… ok, this one gets me hot! As in mad. I can’t stand it when I open my feed to read what my friends are up to, and 1/3 of it is taken up by some asshat who is posted links to music videos on YouTube to express how they feel. One or two is ok, but seven? SEVEN? In a row? Excessive youtubing has resulted in my hiding friend feeds before, because I simply COULD NOT TAKE ONE. MORE. FRICKING MUSIC VIDEO.
  12. Creepers on Facebook. You know who you are. ’nuff said.


Anyone else got  a Facebook faux pas they’d like to share? Or am I a giant jerk for letting this stuff bother me enough to spark a blog post?

Dead Bugs, Planking


Dear Meredith-the-Trainer-from-Hell,

Just wanted to let you know that I am spreading your gospel about health and wellness.

Today I walked into the Finance department at work and they were all complaining about how tired and slepy they were since it was a Friday afternoon. I offered to pep them up with 10 quick jumping jacks, which I did myself as an example.  Granted, while I was doing them, my pants started to slipp down my butt (which I take as a good sign) and my boobs almost gave me a black eye, but I did them anyway and felt super energized!

Apparently that wasn’t enough to hold their attention.

After careful thought I suggested planking followed by your specialty, “Dead Bugs”. That got them alert!!!

As they were strugglingto figure out which arm went with which leg, I thought of how, as I struggled to do them under your instruction, you used to laugh and talk about how funny people looked when doing Dead Bugs. Watching other people do them gave me a little objectivity and I found myself trying not to laugh my head off at these poor people.

After sweating and crying and finally rolling back into a sitting position, one of them asked me “what muscles is the Dead Bugs exercise supposed to work out?”

My answer:

“I have no idea. I thought it was just random torture exercise that my trainer made up!”

They all agreed with me that you’re the trainer-from-hell.

Just thought you’d like to know I’m spreading the good word to far and wide, including my place of business 🙂


 The Sunburnt Peach

Trainer from Hell – oops, I mean Boyfriend


Why is it that as soon as you share with people that you’re losing weight it’s like you’re opening yourself to everyone’s opinions about everything fitness related, from sports bras to fiber???

I think it’s a convuluted way of showing support. Granted, cornering me at the door when I walk back into the office to ask me what I had for lunch is one heck of a way to show support…

I’ve listened to advice about fiber, stretching, workout frequency, sleep, flavored water vs/ non-flavored water, and the merits of hot yoga vs. cold yoga. One of my friends even took away my brownie!!!!! I take it all in stride with good humor though because I know it comes from a good place.

Or at least I DID… until Boyfriend decided to work out with me this weekend.

It all started with an epic fail on the part of my trainer – she cancelled on me at the last minute Saturday morning, leaving me at loose ends. Boyfriend thoughtfully stepped in to help me, suggesting that I workout with him during his routine.

What I remember most is sweat. And crying. And whining. And yelling expletives at Boyfriend every 5 seconds. I honestly can’t repeat here the hateful things that I yelled, for fear that WordPress will like, DELETE my blog. Seriously. It was pretty bad.

After collapsing into a perspiring heap (Southern girls don’t sweat darling, they perspire) and recovering from the workout from hell, I snapped when he told me I’d have to wait to have breakfast until AFTER we swam laps in the pool. This plan to wait to eat put the Trifecta of Evil into serious danger (I turn into a raving psychopath when I’m hungry, hot and tired all at the same time. I’d previously warned him. If he didn’t bother to heed the care instructions when taking on the Sunburnt Peach package that’s not my problem).

All told I recovered quite nicely from the miserable Saturday workout. Then Sunday came around and he made me do it again.

He kept telling me that my trainer would be even harder on me than he was!

By the time we were done, not only was there perspiration, crying and swearing, I was even swearing at the trainer on the program we were using as well as Casey the Roomie who was just an innocent bystander. I flipped him the bird – twice.

When Monday rolled around I was in PAIN. It hurt to sit, stand, breathe or scurry to the bathroom and pee. I whimpered while walking to the kitchen to make my cheerios and grunted everytime I lowered myself onto a chair or my toilet. I toddled around the office all day like I’d have a severe anal probe at the airport. People laughed. hmph.

After a weekend of training with Sgt. Meanie-Pants Trainer from Hell, I was flat out frightened of what my workout with my actualy trainer would be like. By the time I arrived at the gym, I was almost shaking in my shoes. Visions of Drill seargents blowing whistles were stuck in my head donned my sports bra and tennis shoes.

Ironically, today was not too bad. I say that with my fingers crossed, knowing that I will be seeing trainer lady at least twice a week for the next 8 weeks. The workout was challenging yet well paced, and she did a great job of explaining the whys of what I was doing.

I’m still sore, but no longer fearful that my trainer will channel the drill seargent from hell. I walked like the reluctant cowboy all day, but still felt pleased with my progress.

I can now sit on the toilet without falling. 🙂

Memorable Mini-break



This past weekend, I went on an overnight beach trip for the first time with the BF.


Big deal right? Full of memories, laughter, romance, etc. The usual general mushiness.


The most memorable part of our trip? Two grown ass men engaged in fisticuffs over our parking space as we’re leaving the beach parking lot. As the BF drives us away, I’m turned backwards in my seat to see who wins, all the time chanting “Fight! Fight!”


TRUE STORY. LOL it was awesome.


So yeah, we went to the beach this weekend, and it was really great. Like, awesome. A first time for me on many levels (not the one you’re thinking PERVERTS). A first weekend away with my first grown up and serious relationship. A first hotel stay with a BF. A first time at this particular beach. A first time sharing a place that I love with someone that I care about… the beach is one of my very favorite places to go.


We’re talking blue skies, sweet breezes; blue-green water and powdery sand that’s cool beneath your feet – how could you ask for more?


It’s not just the mushy crap either that was full of firsts. For the first time I feel like in addition to the relationship component we are friends and not just boyfriend/ girlfriend. I got to hang out with my awesome friend for a whole weekend! Selfishly, I wanted to jealously guard out time together. The hardest thing was having places to go, people to see. It was tough sharing that time with other people.

But… to get mushy for a moment… There’s something incredibly sweet and wonderful about waking up in the arms of someone that means that much to you, holding hands and laughing and talking and feeling comfortable and safe and free to just… enjoy it without any guilt.


Is that so bad?


We will definitely be doing it again, and going without any agenda but to relax and have fun… I know, no agenda doesn’t sound very much like this Sunburnt Peach, does it?


Another first 🙂


My Discombobulated Morning


Word of the day: discombobulated.


At about 10:30 am this morning, my boss looked at me strangely and asked “Are you ok? You don’t seem like yourself…?”


I tried to explain why I looked completely wall-eyed and worn out but the words just came out a garbled mess. She stared at me for a few minutes and changed the subject. I don’t blame her really.


I’m probably being a bit melodramatic (surprise anyone???) but it was just one thing heaped on top of another. And it all started with my Aunt Zelda asking me to stop at McDonald’s.


She was in town for a convention, and I was heading to her hotel before work. I called her as I was pulling out of my garage to let her know I was on my way. After she accidentally hung up on me twice, I finally got her on the phone long enough to have her ask me to stop at Mickey D’s and she placed a breakfast order for herself, her friend and my cousin’s son (we’ll call him lil cousin).


Did I mention that she was staying at one of the largest resorts in the area? Imagine a huge Vegas resort. Now smash that flat and add another on top of it, like a tower. That would be this hotel.


It’s so fricking big that they run a shuttle from the parking deck to the front lobby. It’s so fricking big that the areas are sorted directionally: North, South, East and West.


I should probably stop here to note that I’m wearing one of my favorite and cutest dresses. It’s adorable with cute polka dots on it, and a cute ribbony thing. I feel like such a pretty pretty princess when I wear it, all dressed up for work 🙂 …and the sunglasses I bought this weekend just happen to match the dress and thus complete the ensemble. I was so cute when I left my house!!


So – anyhoo. I pick up the McDonald’s order and head to the megaresort. It’s a little after 8 am when I park my car and board the hotel lobby shuttle. 7 minutes later, I arrive at the hotel shuttle and strike off at a brisk trot for the tower that my aunt is staying in. Mc Donald’s in hand, cute dress, sunglasses and coach purse  intact, I can’t tell what’s drawing stares: big girl in cute dress or big girl with mickey d’s OR mickey d’s and coach purse carried by the same person.  Either way, I book it as fast as my accoutrements will let me get through the front lobby, dodging departing guests and various foolishness going on around me.


I  walk. I walk. I walk some more and, after a healthy mile long trek through megaresort I finally make it to her elevator. After a brief ride, I get off at her floor and walk some more. I stopped and checked my purse to make sure I had my passport – yep, I’m ready for the border when I get there – and I continue walking.


The visit with my aunt was pleasant. Lil cousin was sweet and very appreciative of his pancake breakfast :). After only a few minutes I look over at the clock and realize it’s 8:49. Yikes! I’d told my boss that I’d be at work by 9! I hug my aunt and take off the way that I came. This time I was ready for the border checkpoints with my passport in hand :).


Here’s where the fun really begins.


First: I get off the elevator on the wrong floor. Apparently the lobby is on the 2nd floor, not the 1st. After wandering around for a bit, a housekeeper directs me towards the lobby. Away I go, zipping more confidently down the halls as I recognize the path I’d taken the first time.


Confidence is very important. You can get through most places by just acting like you know where you’re going. I’ve used this tactic to sidle into clubs, VIP areas, crash parties etc. I guess I looked so much like I knew where I was going that no one on the front lobby would help me find the parking deck shuttle! They were busy with real guests that clearly looked lost and sunburnt, carrying 8 bags of luggage, wearing oversized shirts and visors. It took a while before I could find someone to direct me to the shuttle pick up.


The shuttle stop is conveniently located in the sunniest, most sweat-inducing and chair free spot on the front drive. No worries – instead of getting upset and princess-y, I simply settle in to wait for the shuttle, thinking it’ll only be a minute. A minute passes. Then two. Then five. After seven minutes of waiting, I start thinking of alternatives. I decide to go back inside and begin the long trip through the hotel to my car.


As I get on the escalator that will take me through the convention center and to the parking deck, I look out the window and watch the shuttle pull up. I watch it slowly open its doors and begin taking in passengers until the escalator takes me out of sight.




The megaresort’s convention center space is huge. I mean like, REALLY BIG. Imagine a wal-mart WITH an auto shop AND a garden section completely empty of people (right?!) and plop two of those end to end and throw in a few nail shops and discount eyeglass stores for good measure and that’s probably two thirds of the length of the walk I took through the space.


I walk. And walk. and walk some more. Finally I reach the escalator that leads to the hallway that leads to the covered bridge that leads to elevator that will take me to my car in the parking deck. Whew!


As I press my floor in the elevator panel, I notice the (discreet) sign that mentions pay stations for parking fees. There are no toll booth attendants that you can pay directly when you leave. Just automated gates that you stick your validated ticket in.



My parking pass is conveniently located in my car. SO I get in my car, head down to level one where there’s a pay station. On the way out I pass several signs that caution you to take your ticket with you to get validated – how did I miss these???? The exit sign I followed led me to a gate with NO pay station. So I do the ignorant thing of course: I back up on a one-way ramp, and find the second exit, which happens to be the ONLY ONE on the first floor with a pay station. I park my car in the stripey no parking zone because at this point I could give a flying fart in space and walk over to the paystation. It validates my ticket and asks if I want a receipt. Before I could press the receipt button, it ends the transaction and resets itself. So no receipt.




Sweat trickles down the inside of my somewhat cute dress and by now, my sunglasses are askew on my head. My hair starts to frizz a little and curl in crazy ways, prompting me to put the hair in an unkempt ponytail. I limp to my car and blast the air on full as I veer towards the automated tollbooth to leave.


A cute little vacationing family is ambling off the hotel shuttle. The automated gate teller thing says to me “Thank you for staying with us!”. I yell “F#@K  YOU!!” at the machine and take off. I think they might have heard me. I’m still not sure that I care.


So, finally at work, 45 minutes after I planned to get there. I’m still trying to pull myself together when my boss asks “Are you ok??” and all I could think about was if I’d left my dignity in the parking deck. Satisfied that I never had it, I begin my workday.

This wonderful Bodyshop ad was banned by Barbie Inc. A repost from Twitpic


This wonderful Bodyshop ad was banned by Barbie Inc. Repost i… on Twitpic.

I love this ad. I stumbled across it in my Twitter feed sometime last week.

I think this should be dedicated to ANYONE that has ever been embarrassed by their body for ANY reason – whether you think you’re too fat, skinny, tall, short, freckled, brown, white, wrinkled – whatever. From an early age our parents tell us that we’re beautiful and we spend our whole lives trying to remember that fact. It’s so easy to say “love your body” but so hard to actually just do it. Am I right???

It’s easier to listen whenver someone puts you down – why is that? Why can’t we just believe that someone thinks you’re beautiful just the way we are!!! Being self conscious about your body image can really drive a wedge into any relationship as I’m currently learning and struggling with right now… love your body, it’s the only one you’ve got 🙂

…and that is the end of today’s sermon from the good Reverend Peach 🙂


Happy Feet


So I starting thinking about feet earlier today.

I’m not like a foot fetishist or anything – it just occured to me that this is a very interesting topic… here in Florida we pretty much have only one season: SUMMER. It can be broken up into three distinct seasonal periods – Mild Summer, Hot Summer and REALLY HOT Summer. You rarely see too many Floridians outside in the middle of a hot July day unless there’s alcohol and/or shade involved. Or maybe food. Or maybe food, booze AND shade? Damn! That’s like, the trifecta of summer happiness right there!!! 🙂

With our perpetual summer comes an excess of summer and open-toed footwear. There’s an ongoing parade of parties, dinners, festivals, fairs, beach events and barbecues where you find yourself in summer shoe wear. Thusly, it is imperative to keep your feet in pretty good shape when wearing open toed shoes, flip flops, sandals, etc. Can’t afford to hit up the nail salon every week for a pedicure? Not a problem!!! This is a tough economy – no one knows that better than me. All we’re asking (and I speak fof the general toe-viewing public here) is that you keep ’em neat, trimmed and moisturized. Get a Ped Egg at Target. I suggest a nice nail polish as well whenever possible. Is that too much to ask?

I am VERY embarrassed by my feet. They not horrible or anything, just not like, you know, perfect. The hospitality industry can be tough on your tootsies. With that said, I always make sure that I keep them moisturized, scrubbed, trimmed and with a nice nail polish on them. I’ve been paranoid about them ever since I was in high school. Sitting in the nail shop one day getting my nails done and I heard the manicurists yelling ” you pay extra! you pay extra!” at another patron. I honestly don’t know if the lady was yelling this because the person’s toes were utterly jacked up or if she was charging extra for him/her to cop a feel during a session… either way I’m scared to death of plopping into that chair and having them appraise my feet and then jack up the price because they’re so effing busted.

Also, here’s a thought – what if you’re snuggling up to Mr. Right?? You don’t want to scare him away with scaly feet. Ugh, what about when you’re taking off your shoes to walk through security at the airport? Asking for help in the shoe department at Nordstrom? Standing on the scale at the gynecologist’s office? As a deeply paranoid person I think about this stuff ALL the time, and find myself looking at other people’s toes. When toes catch my eye I’m usually think either “man I wish mine looked like that!” or “THANK YOU BABY JESUS for not giving me toes like that!”

So I’m kinda thankful for the feet I have. After all, they could always look like this:

The lady doth protest much


Driving back to the office after lunch and I pass some protesters outside of the SeaWorld entrance… The weird thing is that they’re not your typical angry protesters, they’re WAVING at all the cars, like Wal-Mart greeters.

Isn’t that odd?!? Aren’t they supposed to be waving fists or holding clumps of dead fish or something?

And why hasn’t someone told them it’s too hot today for that??? #justsayin

Dirty Old Ladies, Part 1


Read on to learn how an email about nothing turned into an epiphany that I need a date.

From: AB
Sent: Fri 4/15/2011 11:50 AM
To: Renee M.
Subject: Nothing

You are hysterical.


From: Renee M.
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 11:59 AM
To: AB
Subject: RE: Nothing

I try to entertain myself and others on a regular basis.



From: AB
Sent: Fri 4/15/2011 12:01 PM
To: Renee M.
Subject: RE: Nothing

Good job missy.

How are you?


From: Renee M.
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 12:08 PM
To: AB
Subject: RE: Nothing

Good! Working reception right now to cover the receptionist on lunch, then running straight into our team’s quarterly brainstorming for the rest of the afternoon :). How was dinner with TRyan? (see what I did there? I combined Tim’s and Ryan’s names, like Heidi and Spencer became “Speidi”? LMAO


From: AB
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 12:17 PM
To: Renee M.
Subject: RE: Nothing


From: Renee M.
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 12:15 PM
To: AB
Subject: RE: Nothing

holy snotballs!!! The finest Morroccan Man I’ve ever seen in real life just walked into our office. He was looking for the Moroccan Embassy. I think he was looking down the front of my shirt. I don’t mind.

From: AB
Sent: Fri 4/15/2011 12:12 PM
To: Renee M.
Subject: RE: Nothing

There is something wrong with you! LOL

From: Renee M
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 12:18 PM
To: AB
Subject: RE: Nothing

What?!?! Ain’t a thing wrong with me. He shook my hand… it was nice and warm.


Yes, maybe something is wrong with me.

Did I mention his muscles were ginormous?

I need a date.