Just because I'm wearing a flannel shirt and moccasins don't make me a grandpa, yo!

Just because I'm wearing a flannel shirt and moccasins don't make me a grandpa, yo!  ..But the fact that every time I try to get off the couch, I end up moaning and taking several minutes to come to a full stand does. My trainer is kicking my ass, and as I sit here watching Ellen, the only thing I have that keeps me going is the fact that Rhianna got voted sexiest woman alive, and she is not sexy. In fact, maybe a little *dare I say it* - slutty.  She reminds me of that girl in high school that slept with EVERYONE, but no one ever found out because the girl who gave blow jobs to EVERYONE didn't hesitate to make sure everyone knew of her oral talents. Hence, the real concubine escaped those 4 years unscathed of reputation. But I digress. This trainer is really earning her buck through my misery.  Kudos to the world's first personal trainer for such an intelligent business idea.

The Native Americans knew what was up when they created the "moccasin."  Last Christmas, I received the greatest gift. No, not life, but moccasins.... Let's rewind.  I am 4 years old playing in my room or our toy room? (Let's get real they were one and the same until I was 5). Grandma and Grandpa, like a lot of our Native American/Mexican themed gifts we received,  had sent a little pair of moccasins from Arizona. [For a short time growing up, I thought we were part Native American or Mexican and G&G were passing the culture down. No...just two retired Ukrainians/French people moved to Arizona and just kept sending up southwestern presents.]   I LOVED those moccasins and remember wearing them until they were so tight I couldn't fit my foot in them anymore.  I remember being very sad, obviously having no understanding that I would not stay the same size for all eternity.

 Okay Fast Forward. I remember the day that I remembered those moccasins I had tossed aside and forgot about like Rugby in "The Christmas Toy".  I was walking around my apartment next to the bar thinking about how they don't make slippers like they used to. BOOM! MOCCASINS!!  I immediately phoned my parents and actually put something on a Christmas List instead of the usual "I don't know".  (They must have been excited for an easy-thinking gift to give me. My mom told me later they literally went to any and all leather stores between home and kingdom come and finally found the right kind at a place in New Hampshire, conveniently located next to the State Liquor Store I'm sure..). And here I am almost a year later, hobbling around on Heaven's glory as amazing as the day I first put them on. (For reason of hobbling, please see above.) Whoever said "Money can't buy you happiness" clearly never knew how to spend that money.

LONG LIVE THE MOCCASIN. (These are my exact ones!!!) EEEE!!!!

Sometimes you feel like a nut, and sometimes you feel like you got hit by a Mack truck...

Sometimes you feel like a nut, and sometimes you feel like you got hit by a Mack truck.  Yes, that right, this dumbass over here decided to coincide her personal training sessions with the opening of a highly buzzed restaurant she works at. (She's so dumb she will now refer to herself in the third person in efforts to disguise the stupidity).  Needless to say, full body muscle aches, eyes going cross-eyed and feet burning are the highlights of this weekend. Oh and that dumbass football player who accidentally shot himself while trying to be a badass with a gun was in tonight. Don't be jealous, for she will be free to enjoy the next two Pats games with a beer in her hand, and Thanksgiving with her family.

Ah, yes,that looks like the truck.... but less fruit juicy.

If your body was made of Jello, you'd feel like me....

Yes, if your body was made of jello, you'd feel like me.  For real.  After much debate in my head over the past year, I have decided to invest in a personal trainer.  I mean, why kick your own ass when you can have someone else kick it for you? ( In all reality, I'm so lazy I can hardly keep track of one set of reps, let alone many.)  Today was my first session, and to quote myself when my trainer asked how I was doing, I replied " I feel like one of those kids on MTV's 'I Used To Be Fat'". Will I be able to walk tomorrow? Will I be able to sit? How will I pee? OMG. The Grand Opening of the restaurant is tomorrow!!!  How will this go?  Only time will tell.

This leads into another one of my milestone goals.  Two years ago I decided to put down the endless bottle of beer, get off my lazy ass and run a half marathon to raise funds for Dana Farber Cancer Research Institute. The entire experience from learning that I could hardly run a half mile without death lurking over me to race day and the overwhelming flood of emotions through 13.1 miles as I watched fellow DF runners with "Survivor" inscribed on the team pinny was both humbling and the first kick in ass I needed!

I continued on with running through the winter with the help and motivation (peer pressure and downright bullying) of my good friend Brit. A few weeks after the BAA Half, I ran a 10k relay, and a 5k Turkey Trot and later in the end of winter, another 5k and another Half marathon and a 5k for the 4th of July. And then I retired to packing, saving money to move, and distractions and business at work. And then, I moved.

They say " You don't know what you've got till its gone."  So True. Running through the hills of Berkshire County, one has a constant thought- "where is the flat land?"  Well, I have found the flat lands of Virginia.  And I hate it!  I've never thought a day in my life I would long for the challenge of the hills. Now, a normal person would take this as a challenge in itself fighting the everyday fight against boredom - boredom of running flat lands, mental boredom from not having to repeat the mantra "you're almost to the top", and boredom of the muscles that persevere when the hills get steep, but not me, I say F that! (This should be made clear - Life =  totally not boring down here, quite the opposite, but running, running = whaaaaa?)

So here I am at the brink of backtracking. Time to pull out the big guns.  My big guns that is.  Where do these big guns come from?  My trainer, who has informed me not to buy clothes, not to ask for clothes for Christmas, and notify everyone else not to get me clothes, because week to week, and month by month, I will not fit into them. But, I will not only get into shape, but she will also get me into MARATHON RUNNING SHAPE!  Hooray!! This being my next milestone goal.  26 miles in 26 years. And I will expect nothing less than that from myself.

I can't believe I started a Blog...wtf

So, I've started a blog. Why?  I don't know. I figure I'd take the technological route to having a "diary." And don't try picking the lock...there isn't one! HA! ( Typing is way faster and cramps your hand less anyways)

I turned 26 years old two months ago. With that milestone there was also many goals I had set forth in my life that I realized had irrelevantly taken the backseat. The main goal being to enjoy and experience life instead of going through the motions like most of America who wake up one day absolutely miserable.  I want to have the life for myself that I can wake up as a 65 year old and not worry about a "bucket list" because I would have done all that I wanted to do thus far. So I moved 500 miles away form the sanctity of Cooper Parkway to Virginia Beach.  In perfect timing I might add, missing out on two feet of snow to celebrate All Hallow's Eve back home.

So here I am just about totally settled down, less my own apartment yet, thanks to a very amazing friend who I am allowed to stay with. I've started a job with a super awesome restaurant that doubles as an amazing company that embodies everything I would make my own, if I had my own. Now, onto the living part....