Album of the week: Taylor Swift's "Red"
Book of the week: The Homecoming of Samuel Lake -Jenny Wingfield
If you guys have any book suggestions for me, please leave it in the comments - I'm going to the library this week to stock up on books for my VAY-CAY-SHUN!
Holy HELL she's got another blog post up and its only been like, A WEEK SINCE THE LAST ONE. This is just... insanity.
First things first, I have to give a huge THANK YOU to Ashley for featuring me on her #fridayfitstagram post - this girl is my main bitch on Instagram, who comes to Charlotte ON THE REGULAR so we're getting together ASAP. She also has the same sassmouth/vulgar vocabulary as I do (actually I see this as a trend in our FitGirls group. This may be A Thing.), and, get this y'all - we're ROAD TRIPPIN' to Chicago November 1-3 for a huge-mongous Instagram SassMouth FitGirls Meetup. (I think I just made up the slogan for the tshirts that we OBVIOUSLY need to have made. In pink. And glitter.)
I have "met" so many great girls even in the span of the last week thanks to our planning this trip. We're all from all over the country (Wendy is such a peach and is coordinating this bonanza) and all seem to be of the same mindset - get fit, have fun, and make friends doing it. Everyone is SO supportive and quick to give suggestions if anyone asks for help - no Judgey McJudgersons up in heah!
I know people in my "real life" don't realllllly "get" it, this Instagram business. Or meeting people on the INTERWEBZ in general. But I am That Girl, and I always will be. I met Katrina online in 8th grade (AIM FTW) and have basically never stopped. 2/3 of the Serious Boyfriends I've had I met online, so this is old hat to me. "WHAT ABOUT STRANGER DANGER?" Buhhhh. Anyone been keeping up with my online dating chronicles? Public place, everyone knows where you're going and what time, and has the contact information for the person that you're meeting. THAT'S HOW YA DO IT. How else do you make friends as an adult? Pretty much everyone I work with is married with children, or on the verge of that ledge, and the gym is Shutty No Talky Zone for me. (plus. 5am? No. Nobody speak to me.)
I realize there's a lot of exclamations and CAPITALS going on in this post. Work with me people, I've been home alone all day and Bailey is not much of a conversationalist.
What next what next. Oh. Okay so Google Reader has been retired (RIP) so I've switched all my blogs over to Feedly. Which blows BlogLovin out of the WATER - the app is slick like Rick and you can filter different blogs into different groups. For example, I have Hilarity, News (hockey & football, mostly), and Workin' It. The newest additions to my Workin' It group are Darci at Strongly Feminine, Heather at Pretty Strong Medicine and Miss MAHCY at The Mustache Diaries (I MEAN. the MUSTACHE diaries. we were destined to be friends, because we all know how much I love a good mustache. Plus this bish loves Brussels sprouts abouttttt as much as I do I think.)
So clearly we're all in this for the motivation and support we all get from one another, right? The friendships are just a (sweet-ass) bonus. But something I wanted to talk about is people who say to me "You've got to MAKE me go to the gym!" or "You've got to MAKE me eat better!" Listen here, and I'm not repeating myself: I cannot MAKE you do anything, just as I cannot make Bailey stop sleeping with her Fart Cannon pointed at my face every night. I will help guide you and make suggestions (as best I can, since I'm learning as I go here - I am NOT a personal trainer, clearly, nor am I a nutritionist but I will share what works for me). This decision has to be all on your own, for whatever reason that might be - whatever makes you decide "I'm getting off my ass and I'm not going to eat absolute shit anymore." I am going to be straight with you guys and fully admit that the reason I even started this journey was for a GUY (because I was living in full-blown Delusion Land and wanted to be hot-ass shit the next time I saw him - that delusion has since been smashed, thanks to a little thing I like to call Facebook Stalking - very useful, try it sometime) but a few months ago I made the decision to exit that Emotional Rollercoaster, thanks much for the ride but you can keep it. So now this journey is MINE and it is about ME and how I feel and making myself the best I can be - not for anyone else.
I'm geeking out a
Can we just talk about something disgusting for a second? I fully admit that I am all about The Gross - give me a good zit with a whitehead on it and I'm your girl, I'll take care of it for you. A good talk about poop with your best friends? Bring it on. But is there ANYTHING more disgusting than snaking the shower drain? I cannot. I admit I let it get bad - when I'm in an inch and a half of standing water during my shower I know it's time. I do have a hair trap, but some of those refugee hairs (and hair pins! What fresh hell is this? Why is a rogue hair pin getting through my hair trap?!) escape. I snaked it today and legit dry-heaved. Husband requirement numero uno: Must Snake Shower Drain.
Speaking of The Men Species, I'm not going to get too gushy and detaily here but I've had some great dates with a guy recently (dates. that would be PLURAL DATES, over MULTIPLE WEEKS. Close your mouth, I'm shocked too) including Bonefish Grille (hieee you win already sir), the WhiteWater Center (any date that I get to wear workout clothes to and no makeup is an automatic thumbs up from me), and a dirt-track race (me. At a dirt track. And a race. At the same time. And I didn't want to die until the very end when it was 1am and we were still there. AND I WAS COVERED IN DIRT AND DIDN'T HATE IT.) So if all of you could cross all your digits and/or pray to Buddha or baby Jesus in a tuxedo tshirt, or whatever it is that you do, I'd really appreciate it. Love you, mean it!
I leave for MAINEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!111111 on Friday and get to spend a whole 8 days with My People, so there will probably not be another post in HelenTheFabulous Land until I get back. Because really the fact that I posted twice in 2 weeks is a miracle in itself. Peace out betches!!