Friday, June 28, 2013

Ninja Prancercise

I ordered a little exercise bike on the internet, and it should arrive any day now. I hope it doesn’t end up being just a giant paper weight, or a a future yard sale item. I’m determined to get into shape. About 16 years ago, I bought a unicycle. At the time, my son Ben was in 5th grade. His school had brought in unicycles for the kids to try for a week. I got jazzed about it for myself. These were mere children. Certainly I could master a unicycle as well, I thought. I purchased my own unicycle, and named her Eunice. I got a helmet, and piled patio furniture on either side of me in the backyard. I tried to pedal and balance while holding onto the furniture. It was a total bust. Then I tried using two mop handles like ski poles. That was no easier. Basically, I would put on my crash helmet, pump up the tire, adjust the seat, try a couple rotations, and then quit. I think it’s high time to try again. I know Eunice is somewhere in the garage, possibly suspended from the ceiling. There could also be some new options if the one and two-wheel bikes don’t do the trick. I saw the Prancercise lady on TV the other day. She is a skinny Florida woman with big hair, who prances around in pearls and ankle weights for fitness. She also wears white spandex pants. That’s a deal breaker for me. I could channel my inner pony, but definitely would nix the pants. I’ve been seeing a commercial for a reality show called “American Ninja Warrior”. I have no idea what it entails, nor do I intend to watch it. A thought occurred to me... What if you incorporated Prancercise with Ninja Warriors? I could totally envision the outfit - Black hood and mask, pearl necklace, pants of one’s choice (Ninjas do NOT wear white spandex). Prancing and dancing like a fancy pony, while swirling numchucks. Hi ya... trot, trot! I might be on to something. The “Pony” was my signature dance move in high school. Foreshadowing of the future??? So, it looks like I have a lot of fitness choices coming my way. Hopefully, I will find the right option without ending up in a body cast. Stay tuned...

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Just Can't Put This Behind Me

Aside from being horrified at the gawdawful name Kim Kardashian has bestowed on her baby girl, I was feeling a sense of relief that maybe all the hoopla was over for a while. Then I went grocery shopping. There had to be at least four different magazines/filthy rags at the checkout stand with stories related to the birth. The baby is only a few days old. Enough already! Kanye West was present at the birth, Kanye West was NOT present at the birth, Kim refused doctor’s orders to take off her high heels, Kim won’t breast feed since her body has already been through enough, Kim was a “Delivery Room Diva”. Sheesh! Who knows if there is a grain of truth in any of the stories? If Kim Kardashian is human (the jury is still out on that one), she was probably scared and did what her doctors and nurses directed her to do. That doesn’t make for a very good story, though. I saw a blurry photo of her grimacing, purportedly during childbirth. This reminded me of something no one can dispute - Kim Kardashian is the World’s Ugliest Crier. Seriously. She looks like she just tasted ear wax, and smelled a fart while being jabbed in the neck with a hat pin. Years ago, probably before the 1970’s, movies used to allude to a sexual encounter by showing fireworks, or scenes of beauty. I think the media who record Kim Kardashian’s every movement need to come up with a euphemism for her crying. That way we won’t have to suffer at the sight of the real thing. Maybe we could see a car with a flat tire, a puppy with a sore paw, or an empty cookie jar. Anything but the ear wax face. One magazine showed a photo of Kim next to a photo of Princess Kate Middleton. Oh puhleez! I certainly hope the British don’t think Americans see the Kardashians as our royalty. That’s just too damn embarrassing a thought. I know I need to put this behind me, but it’s really hard. I wonder if I could grocery shop blindfolded. It might come down to that...

Friday, June 21, 2013

Baby Names Gone Wrong

I heard what I hope is a nasty rumor - Kim Kardashian and Kanye West have named their baby girl “North”. Sigh... North West. Maybe we’re all being punked. I doubt it, though. These two are major D-bags. It would be appropriate for them to saddle their baby with a heinous moniker, all in the name of media buzz. Kim and Kanye love the letter “K”, since apparently it was invented just for them. I would not be surprised if they spelled the baby’s name “Knorth”. As long as they’re being horrible, they might as well take it to a new level, right? I wonder if K & K will have more children. There are unlimited bad choices to go with the last name West. Here are a few...

Go West
Far West 
Due West  
Wild West 
South West 
Can’tWaitToGrowUpAndSueThePantsOffTheseAwfulPeople West 

There should be a law against celebrities saddling their offspring with terrible names: Apple, Moon Unit, Dweezil, Flight Inspektor, Morroccan, Blue Ivy, Moxie Crimefighter, Banjo, Kyd, and on and on. When I’m Queen of the World, an Anti Stupid Name law will have to be enacted. It will come after all smokers being relocated to Antarctica, and before all versions of “Jingle Bells” being strictly prohibited. These people need to be stopped. It’s probably too late for poor little North West. I’ll be awaiting my coronation... then watch out K & K.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

I Used To Be A Babe

Does anyone know they're in their prime, when they're in it? I think not…at least I didn't. Back when I was twenty-something, I was fit and in the best shape of my life. I was a newlywed, living in San Francisco, and taking ballet classes two to four times a week. I won't say I was hot, but I was probably a good solid OK. One day, I got talked into going to a nude beach at Hagmire Pond in Marin County. I felt so self-conscious and, well, naked. It was truly not a good time for me, but I toughed it out. Rick, on the other hand, was in naked people heaven. I don't think it really mattered to him that most of the people at the pond should have kept their clothes on. Naked is naked, I guess. A few years ago we went back to San Francisco for the Bay to Breakers foot race. I parked myself at the halfway mark and people-watched while I waited for the family to run by. This race is famous for costumes, or the lack thereof. To pass the time, I counted naked people. I got up to about 80 naked men and 8 naked women before I stopped counting. As with the naked beach crowd from 30 years ago, most of the naked runners should have kept their clothes on. Not too appetizing on an early Sunday morning. I have never personally enjoyed nudism, and embrace my inhibitions. I'm convinced my birthday suit came with socks. I say the more clothes the better. Layer me up! The old bod is bigger and lumpier than in the old days. I now have the muscle tone of yogurt with fruit at the bottom. On the positive side, I think I am finally safe from having to spurn invitations to a day at a nude beach.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Strange Occurrences

Strange things were a happenin’ this weekend...

-  Under the Ballard Bridge, where there is always someone begging for money, I saw a man holding an imaginary sign. His hands were clutching nothing, but were positioned as though he was holding a sign. This was one time I didn’t feel guilty about not giving a donation. I figure I gave him imaginary money to go with his imaginary sign.

-  I might have seen Elvis at the grocery store. There was a chunky Asian woman (at least I think it was a woman) who was wearing an ENORMOUS belt buckle. It was about the size of a paper plate, only oval rather than round. It reminded me of something Elvis might have worn with his white jumpsuit, back in his chubby days. Not exactly a hunka hunka burning love, but you never know...

-  I seem to have had a temporary transformation from my road raginess of last week after I was stuck in traffic from hell on the Viaduct. I was at Macy’s, with a $10 off coupon burning a hole in my pocket. I was unable to find anything to buy and decided to give away my coupon. I chose a lady about my age, who was in line to pay and had an armful of clothes. I gave her the coupon and she was so appreciative. It was very gratifying. After I left Macy’s I motioned to a man looking for a parking place that I was leaving. WTF??? Was I suddenly becoming Mother Theresa? Seemed that way. I was definitely feeling the love. Two good deeds in the span of two minutes. Wow. I might consider being less ragey more often.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Barfing Crow

On my way to work this morning, a squirrel ran in front of my car. After that, I saw a a crow that looked like it was throwing up. Hmmm... I wondered if it was some kind of omen. Then I forgot about it, and went on with my day. Nothing bad happened... until I was on the drive home from work. There was an accident in the Battery Street tunnel, closing it. This meant all the northbound cars on the Viaduct had to exit before the tunnel. Three lanes had to smoosh down into one. Ugh! Being the planner that I am, I was already in the exiting lane. As my lane barely moved, the cars in the other two lanes kept going by. Eventually, they had to merge into my lane, after jumping way ahead of me. This is a major pet peeve of mine. A few years ago, I was in a long detour. As I got closer to the end, a blonde woman in a red convertible pulled up next to me and motioned that she wanted me to let her in. By this time, I was steamed. I gave her my very best “No way, biatch” look and shook my head. She zoomed up ahead, went down another street and did a U turn. She ended up in front of me after all. As she drove away she looked in her rearview mirror, and waved back at me. Oh the injustice! The best I could hope was that she got a nice sunburn on the tippy top of her blonde noggin. When I drive, I sometimes have the maturity of a two year old. Today I had an appointment to get to, so I didn’t handle the whole traffic mess very well. I was ticked off at whoever caused the accident in the tunnel, and muttered at every car and truck that passed me by. It occurred to me that maybe this is what the barfing crow foretold. Either that or some nimrod just did a dumb thing inside the tunnel. Take your pick. My money’s on the crow.

Monday, June 10, 2013

I'd Like A Word With You

Here is a list of interesting words that should come up more often in daily conversation:

Minion (a subordinate of a person of power)
Hyperbole (obvious and intentional exaggeration)
Carbuncle (a skin inflammation similar to a boil)
Doppelganger (a ghostly double or counterpart of a living person)
Plethora ( excess, overabundance)
Odious (extremely unpleasant, repulsive)
Pernicious (destructive, causing great harm)
Insidious (treacherous, proceeding with harmful effects)
Dastardly (wicked and cruel)
Lollygag (dawdle)
Chortle (chuckle)
Cahoots (conspiring together secretly)
Phalanges (a bone of the finger or toe)
Criminy (mild oath to express surprise)
Ostentatious (vulgar or pretentious display)
Spunky (plucky and bold)
Conniption (a fit of rage or hysterics)
Bliss (perfect happiness)
Persnickety (fussy)
Skedaddle (depart quickly, run away)

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Two Things I've Learned

My brain must be bigger today, because I’ve learned two things this week...

- At my physical therapy yesterday, I experienced Cupping. Sounds sorta dirty but it wasn’t. My therapist massaged my shoulders with lotion and then applied a blue rubber cup. It created suction, and was then moved around. It felt weird, but didn’t hurt that much. I kind of liked it. I was told it might leave a bruise. I later looked at my shoulders, and saw that I had two giant purple hickeys about the size of a tennis ball. I looked like I had been making out with a giant squid. Cupping has been around since 3,000 BC. I would love to know what led to its inception. It’s unfortunate it leaves unsightly bruises. Not that I hang out in halter tops and sundresses. I know what’s lurking under my shirt, though.

- My next door neighbor told me his dog caught a Mountain Beaver. WTF? It is neither a beaver nor does it live in the mountains. It is native to the Northwest. This creature is part of the rodent family and is described as a furry football with claws. It has tiny ears, beady little eyes, and a stubby tale. Info I found made the Mountain Beaver seem as elusive as Bigfoot. Not too many people have actually seen one. I guess my neighbor is one of the few. Mountain Beavers tunnel underground like moles, usually under trees and bushes. The article I read also said they eat their own poop, similar to rabbits. OK, make that three things I learned this week. I did not know rabbits eat their own poop. I will never look at Thumper or the Easter Bunny the same way again.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

All Messed Up

I recently started physical therapy for a painful left shoulder. At first my therapist thought I might have a frozen shoulder. Now he thinks I’m just all messed up (my words, not his). Good news, I guess. I’ve had my two shoulders compared to each other, and my arms tested for strength. I believe the verdict is that I would probably lose in a fist fight with a squirrel (again, my words). I have no upper body strength and apparently don’t use my shoulders correctly. It seems I use my neck muscles for just about everything. This leaves my scapulas inert, and lazy. If they could, I assume they would spend all day in the basement playing video games. I found out last night that I don’t even breathe properly. Instead of breathing from my diaphragm, I breathe using my neck muscles. Who knew? I thought my lungs were in charge of that task. While my left shoulder is the painful one, I was told that my right shoulder is unstable. Hmmmm... Should I be afraid of it sneaking up on me with a big knife??? During my physical therapy, I am constantly being told to concentrate on using my scapula muscles. It’s like ordering me to move a nose hair at will. My therapist, bless his heart, keeps asking me how it feels. And I keep saying “Uh... I don’t know”. It’s hard to tell how something feels that you can’t feel. Pretty frustrating, for me as well as him. I’m kind of like Luke Skywalker being taught by Yoda. I fear that I will NEVER raise my scapula out of the swamp. Tomorrow I start deep tissue massage. I have a feeling it won’t be fun. I had to buy a tank top for the occasion, and am dreading having my un-toned arms on display for the whole world to see. I am, however, determined to make this work. I am done with needles and surgery. So if I have to learn how to breathe all over again and levitate my scapulas, so be it. Maybe I’ll make Yoda... er, my therapist proud.