At Least I Haven't Pigged Out That Much

I've been riding a pretty hard guilt train the last two weeks because although I've still gotten in my morning runs, I haven't been to the gym. It's not because I don't want to. It's simply because I have either had a meeting run into boot camp time, had an emergency editing session run over or had an event. I'm honestly still learning the details of my new position, establishing my systems and reacting to the most urgent stuff first. But despite what might seem like good excuses, they aren't. And whenever I'm not busting my butt hardcore at least twice a week, I feel like I can eat more because it doesn't feel like a sacrifice to ruin my calories over a 20 minute morning run.

Despite my gorging and lack of sustained exercise, I have not been tempted by the Burger King promotion with Microsoft in Japan. Yes, Microsoft. They launched the Windows 7 Whopper that has SEVEN meat patties. It was supposed to run for 7 days (naturally) but was such a success for Burger King in the Japanese market that they extended it. So if you're one of the first 30 people to order it, you get a steal at 777 yen (about $9). After that, it goes up to about $16. And it only costs you 2,120 calories plus a down payment for your future angioplasty.

There are many videos of people conquering the Windows 7 Whopper, but my favorite is this one from a guy who had the local Burger King make one because he couldn't afford to fly to Japan.

He had it his way and then his colon had its way with him.

An Open Letter to the NFL

Dear NFL (and all related broadcasters),
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I think you did some additional marketing research or something this year, but I choose to believe this was something done on purpose and not a random act.

I want to thank you because I am an Indianapolis Colts fan. However, I live in Nashville, TN. So, naturally there is a disconnect between what team is supposed to be on the TV and what team I wish would be on the TV. In years past, I've had to strategically plan trips to Indiana on weekends of big games that weren't big enough to be on ESPN or NBC telecasts. I've invested in Sirius radio because if I couldn't see the game, at least I could listen and watch my computer for live updates on the computer with graphics that look like an old football handheld video game my brother used to have as a kid.

However, this year I've gotten to see every Colts game so far this season. Today will be the 8th. I choose to believe that in an effort to support its very lucrative broadcasting and sponsorship contracts that the NFL did a little research on secondary markets. Seeing that each of its 32 teams have a primary media market that LOVES to see their team (and in the case of probably all but maybe Oakland it tends to be where the team calls home), there are also other pockets of geography that have a strong affinity for teams.

For example, Nashville has a very high level of Colts fans because of their allegiance to all things Tennessee Volunteer related and its favorite prodigal son, Peyton Manning. Couple that with being in the same division (AFC South) and it nearly guarantees that any game played by the Colts outside of the Tennessee Titans schedule will garner some great ratings. Really it's a win-win-win scenario.

I choose to believe in research, money and planning than the randomness of TV schedules. Because I want there to be a pattern and not to think that I'm just the luckiest non-Indiana living Colts fan. Either way, it's almost game time and I've got a front row seat.

Sincerely,
your satisfied fan

When Did I Become Old?

It's not that atypical that I go to bed at 9 p.m. on weekend nights. No, you totally read that right. I'm in bed early a lot. Mostly because Chef gets up at 4 a.m. for work and if we're going to spend time together, it just makes sense that we try and be on the same schedule. He's done it for me on the weekdays and by Friday, I'm only too happy to succumb to his early bird regiment.

But it really takes me by surprise that I've starting drifting off on the couch in the early evenings. What the hell made me so tired all of a sudden? Oh yeah, it's going non-stop from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. I always get so excited about new jobs and challenges that I completely forget how all-encompassing it is to figure out what your organization method is going to be, how to manage the new items and of course, when you're going to move your office. None of which are nearly as important as the looming deadline. . . and there's always a looming deadline for one thing or 20.

Okay, I should quit bitching about being tired because if you're an adult, you're tired for some reason or another. But that's the thing. When did I become an adult?

Maybe we're all sleepy in my household.

How to Clean Up Cat Vomit

This is something Chef and I became experts on as two of the little angels were heaving like Linda Blair in The Exorcist this weekend. Nothing to worry about, but definitely little pools of vomit joy to clean up.

This was the first time that I regreted having more than one animal. Mostly because as soon as one was making that nasal wretching noise (cat owners, you know what I'm talking about) and we ran to try and pick him up to place the feline on a hard surface, then the other one would start wretching too.

Chef got the brunt of the vomiting clean up duty. Genghis and Attila were the infected kitties. So, we kept the clean up to a science:

1. Wet down spot


2. Mop up excess vomit


3. Spray with Complete Stain & Odor remover


4. Comment on how Complete only works about 75% of what I need it to do, making it really 75% and not nearly COMPLETE


5. Towel up wet spot


6. Repeat in 6-8 hours


7. Be thankful that the other two cats aren't sick


8. Wonder if the full body cat vomit spasm has pulled any of their kitty muscles

We've been vomit-free for almost 24 hours. Keep your fingers crossed!

Beautiful Ladies As Far As the Eye Could See

Yesterday was another one of those days that I felt grateful to have my job. After a long hard year of raising funds in a crappy economy, poor morale for the country in general and having everything come down to the phrase "if it weren't for this economy. . . ", days were you feel grateful are as few as Peyton Manning sacks.

Yesterday I got to spend my day with about a dozen lovely ladies who help make Go Red For Women happen in Nashville. These ladies truly devote hours of their lives to helping spread the Go Red gospel, getting turned down by skinny ladies who wreak of cigarette smoke and feel they don't have anything heart-related to fear, doing grunt work, doing non-glamourous things and speaking in public. And yesterday with the help of some fantastic photographers, great stylists and friends, those ladies were able to have some fun, get their pictures taken and have some glamour in their lives.

You see, we picked out 10 or so ladies back in February at a casting call to be our local faces. Most are survivors of heart disease or stroke or close to someone who had heart disease or even saved someone's life. They are all inspiring wonderful women and when you spend nearly all day with women, but spend your time in the asexual world of business, it's nice to be reminded that a group of women can be fun. Not bitchy or competitive or single-minded or scared or fragile or emotional. Just fun. (By the way, that's not a reference to my co-workers, who are also fun, but to my general experiences with large groups of women. And another reason why I was never in a sorority. That and my fear of having to stand before a mirror with a Sharpie circling my "trouble areas").

If you'd like to come meet my friendly, beautiful, fun ladies, you can. Go Red For Women is throwing a Girls' Night Goes Red event on November 5th from 7 to 8:30 or so at The Belcourt. It's free. It's fun. And did I mention that the Belcourt sells drinks?

As I said, yesterday was a day I was grateful for.

Sick and Tired of being Sick and Tired

I haven't full blown caught the heat of the germs and I'm very thankful for that. However, I am super tired, sniffling, aching (although that could be boot camp), and in desperate need of some extended time off. I get Sunday and this afternoon, so I'm excited about that. I have to work my last weekend engagement for a while tomorrow, but it's a photo shoot (meaning I don't really have anything to do) and I love the lovely ladies that will be there.

So I've been operating at about 70 percent for the last 24 hours and know that my head will be perpetually hot and my hands and feet always cold. It's a fun state to be in. Plus I'm crazy busy right now with an event coming up and my new things piling on to the old things. Luckily, I have next friday blocked off for some planning so I can get a system in place other than post-it notes and a million pieces of handwritten stuff everywhere. The lack of organization in my office and my life right now is infuriating me. I'm ready to dump it all in a trash bin and start again. If only, I could find my trash can. . .

On another note, I laughed my booty off when I saw Jeff Fisher sporting a Peyton Manning jersey this week while introducing Tony Dungy at an event here in town for Rocketown. He famously said "I just wanted to know what it was like to be a winner." You see the Titans are winless so far, and that was just funny. Of course, people here got their panties in a wad over it. Of course there's a web site up for his demise.

I have to say that I like the guy. He united the city with a beautiful eulogy after a local legend quarterback was found notoriously murdered by --not his wife. He handled the situation with grace and gave the city a chance to mourn without the constant salaciousness one would expect. He does a lot for the community and when he's worked with kids in the AHA's Play 60 program, he was phenomenal. A through and through class act. And not to mention a good coach. Despite the bad season.

God Hates Women. Men Love Boobs.

Yesterday I did what I usually don't dread so much: I went shopping. It wasn't the shopping itself, it was the item that caused me pain: bras. Normally I'm able to whip into a Cacique shop, have the lady there fit me and grab a great fitting, nicely priced bra. However, there's one drawback to losing weight. I'm officially too small for the Cacique store any more and therefore have to shop like mortals in department stores and the like.

Here's what I don't get. How can I three women who are supposed to be bra fitting specialists measure me at three completely different sizes? Also, to the lady who measured me with my top on, come one. I know we're in a time of being politically correct and body sensitive, but I'm fairly certain the large origami-style tufts that were placed across my boobs on the t-shirt I was wearing probably threw the measurement off a little. It's a bra. I'm more than happy to strip down and let you measure the girls properly.

So after three places, three rounds of leaving in tears of sorrow and frustration, I had a moment that I missed my mom. Odd since it was her boobs that ended up turning on her in the end, but growing up, bra shopping was never a horrible life-altering experience. My mom always made me get measured, she pulled style after style of bra off the shelf and shielded me from horrible saleswomen. While shopping for a bra was a pain as a 13 year old D cup, it was never tear-provoking, embarrassing or frustrating. Mom, I didn't give you nearly enough credit.

For now I am in a bra that fits better but not perfect and was way too expensive for what I got. However, I've come to the conclusion that I'm not going back until I have hours of time and loads of patience. It's either this or I gain weight until I can fit back into a cacique bra.