You've Lost .2 Pounds

This may sound sexist, but I think women always have weight on their minds. You don't see a scale in the MEN'S WalMart bathroom. (I think it may even tell our future for an additional quarter.) And you don't see many guys asking if "this makes me look fat". If anything, guys are concerned they aren't big enough and buy that crazy weight gain powder. It's so strange. It's genetic.


I have a scale in my bathroom. It stores my info and tracks my weight loss (or currently, my weight gain). I probably get on it two or three times a day. I strip and weigh myself. I pee and weigh myself. I casually lean forward or backwards thinking the pounds will just disappear. The worst part about the scale is that it even has ounces. It can drive a woman crazy.


Then there are all those weird things you hear about weight loss that all seem to contradict themselves.
*Don't eat past 8 pm
*Eat a low fat snack right before bed
*Eat a big breakfast everyday
*Don't eat one big meal...eat 6 small meals throughout the day
*Drink 8 glasses of water
*Stay away from too much water. It bloats you.

I think the shittiest part about me and my body is that I weigh a lot more than you would think. I'm solid. And about 5 years ago, before I started eating better, I used to be 30 pounds heavier. But, now when I lose a few pounds, it's never where I'd really like to lose it. It's hard to lose Man Back. So the scale is really just bullshit.

"Take your shoes off, Brit. They always add a few ounces."

I say all this and eat alright but I don't exercise for shit, so as Anonymous would say, all we Erieites do is complain. Although I did buy a jogging stroller at the end of summer last year and I intend to use it...just as soon as it hits 40 degrees. So, late May.

Why Stuffed Bunnies Are Kinda Freaky

HAPPY EASTER!

Christmas Easter

What the hell was I thinking when I said yes to my father this morning? He called me up at 10 am when the temperature was a balmy 26 degrees outside (not even taking the wind into account) and asked me if I wanted to take Britain to an Easter egg hunt at Frontier park around 11:30. I look down at my sweatpants and sweatshirt and agreed to meet him there.

I dressed Brit up in the warmest outfit she had and even put gloves on her. I myself put on something half presentable (if you know me, you know I would NEVER walk out of the house with sweatpants on) and grabbed the camera. We trekked over right on time and waited in the freezing cold, the snow numbing our toes, just to collect some tiny plastic eggs. In all seriousness, it was really fun, Brit (ok, I) collected 43 eggs and inside 15 of them was a certificate for a free Dilly Bar from Dairy Queen. SWEET, literally! She was a complete sport about the whole thing and even yelled at Matt when he tried to put her in the car afterwards. "Dare! Dare!", she yelled pointing back to the park. And of course, she ended up on the news. (She knows some people.)

My parents, Britain, Matt and I finished the morning off with hot chocolate and homemade cookies at Romolo's across the street, which was absolutely FILLED with people coming in and out, buying chocolate bunnies and other goodies. While sipping my chai, I grabbed the paper for Matt and what was on the cover but an article on Global Warming. How fitting.

Drunken Ditherings Unedited

I feel a little guilty about this post because A) I've had four glasses of wine and I'm not seeing this screen very clearly and B) my cousins and I are about to play a mad game of Te4xas (tipsy) Hold Em and I feel a bit rushed. So here's what's been floating around in tmy head tonight.

After this weekend, going out two nights in a row, I started remembering back to when I used to go out all the time, evenduring the week. My old roommate Jeannette and I used to go out Thursdays to karakoke and weekends to the dance clubs (the only two in Erie) religiously. I can't beelieve how mahy times I woke up after only 2 hours of sleep and went ot work. Also, how often last night's mascara was the next day's eye liner and how I'd do it for weeks on end. We went out and bumped into the same group of people. We partied till three at The Rook and thenb ended up tat their house afterwoards. I still don't know how I kept up. it went on for about a year or so of constant partying.

Then I got a weird feeling about the whole thing. I called Jeannette one Wednesday befoer our three days of booze and boys and told her I thought we should cool it for awhiel. I ddnt know why. I didnt untderstand what had come over me. But I knew we really shouldn't be doing it anymore. She told me she had already made plans with a few of our on again/off again drinking buddies and she'd get me to come around the next weekend. But she didn't. And she continued to go out for about a month without me, partying it up, filling me in during the week while I pleaded for her to just take it easy.

About three weeks after that, her pregnancy test came back positive and we both were in every weekend, watching Cheaters on Saturday night. I don't regret going out. I was never one to get with guys or anything. But it was really nice to settle down at that time before things might have got even more out of hand. I wouldn't change a damn thing, but I'm glad I stopped when i did.

I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed she didn't listen to me, because afterall, she wouldn't have her son, Ryplee. And I would neot be half as close to Jeannette as I am now if we hadn't raised him together the first 4 years of his life.

But damnit if he isn't a hellion and if something ever happens to her I'm stuck with him!

Mrs. Trapini

One of the best teachers I ever had was my first grade teacher, Mrs. Trapini. I had mentioned my Grandma Haskell's death a few posts ago. The weekend after it happened, I went back to school confused and lonely and hadn't really spoken much since I was told. I got to school and my best friend at the time made some shitty remark about how crappy I looked (because I was sad, not because I was wearing my Garfield nightgown to school again) and I snapped. My pigtails flipping back and forth, "Shut up! I don't want to talk to you ever again!" Then I started crying in a corner.

She ran to our teacher. "Something's wrong with Tammy!" Fucking tattletale.

Mrs. Trapini came over to me immediately. She wasn't the smallest woman but I had never known her to raise her voice once. She always wore jumpers and flats and her dark hair was never longer than her ears. We had two first grade teachers and I remember how jealous the other students were that they didn't have her for a teacher. She did fun things such as when she'd turn out the lights and we'd shine flashlights while we played musical chairs. She'd bring in pets. She even took us outside on the lawn when it was nice out to do our math work. But that day that I came in and had my first (of many) mental breakdowns, she did the best thing she'd ever done.

I explained to her what had happened, how I didn't know if my Grandma Haskell was coming back and didn't understand why she hadn't said goodbye. She gave me the greatest hug, back when teachers could touch their students without question. Then, like a rock star, she called down to the library on the in-room phone for a book. She gathered the class in a circle and threw out the curriculum for that morning. When I went to sit down, she told me my seat was on her lap. A helper from the library came in and delivered a book to Mrs. Trapini. And she sat down, I perched on her lap like a princess, my classmates looking on in wonder and she started the story.

It was about a little boy that loved his puppy more than anything in the world. The little boy didn't think he'd ever be without his little dog. And then the dog was hit by a car (or something else had caused it's death) and how sad the boy felt and that it was okay. The story went on to explain how the little puppy would always be with the little boy, even if the puppy wasn't alive anymore.

I don't remember much about my childhood. But I remember that day like it just happened last week. It meant so much to me that she took the time out of our day to explain to me what death really meant when no one else would. I wasn't scared anymore. I didn't cry the rest of the day. And my friend and I played at recess.

And Moses Said...

So, I'm watching The Black Donnellys last night and a commercial comes on for the new horror/suspense/psychological thriller, The Reaping. It's looking alright, all the seven signs are showing up. THEN, she gets all hungry for breakfast and cracks open a YOLKLESS EGG, like the one I cracked open a few months ago.

We can conclude a few things:

*I will see this movie.
*I will not see Disturbia over this movie, even though Shai LaBeouf was conned into starring in it and the website is pretty fucking cool.
*Hilary Swank actually eats eggs?! (although only yolkless, which explains a lot)
*I am obviously a prophet.

Dreaming My Dreams With You

I've talked to Kristen about this on too many occasions. Why is it that when i dream something about someone that doesn't put them in the best light, I'm actually pissed off enough when I awake to the extent I'd call off a wedding that's only 130 days away? What scares me the most, I think, is just how vivid our dreams can be, to the point where I'm asking myself, "Did that actually happen?".

In many aspects, I hate that I dream. It's like a whole other side of myself that either doesn't exist but in my sleep or I just pretend it doesn't. I don't have control over my jealousy, insecurity, desire, hatred or fears. There are issues I wouldn't even realize I had if it weren't for my dreams.

I've cheated a few more than a few times. I've broken some one's neck. Britain's died. I've had twins, triplets, and even a spoon for a baby. I've been fired so many times, I'm still surprised it isn't reality. I've seen my Grandma Haskell in my dream, had an entire conversation with her actually, and she had died the day before which no one had explained to me because I was too young. I've actually smelled, tasted or felt in my dreams. And whether in black and white or in color, my house never looks like my actual house when I'm dreaming.

I'm pretty sure I've never had a reoccurring dream, except for when I was 9 and told my sister, Michelle I dreamt of horses every morning for about a month. I DO have reoccurring themes though. The most prominent theme I dream about is my old houses I grew up in. Sometimes I venture back and go through the house while the current occupants are gone (Goldilock's). Sometimes I'm back there again, hair in pigtails playing with my generic barbies and old friends. Usually, I'm there just floating through all the rooms I miss, all the memories I've lost. Most of the houses I grew up in have been torn down to make room for new subdivisions so I'm assuming it's just a way to stay attached to them the only way I can.

I have a book that claims it can interpret my dreams but I still haven't seen the money I was supposed to get after dreaming about happy babies and hair barrettes.

It seems to go in spurts. I'll go weeks, months even, without one dream. (I realize we ALWAYS dream at night, we just don't always remember we do.) And then I'll dream nonstop for a week or two at a time. When I dream, it seems to be related to when I'm getting a good night's sleep. I'm glad to be sleeping well again, but some of these dreams I'd trade in for bags under my eyes.

What's the weirdest dream you've ever had? What's a recent one you can't get out of your head? And do dream diaries actually work?

I Love Rack N Roll

It was another fun night at Rack N Roll. I am beginning to become a regular, if you call twice in one month "regular". Matt's friends made it out again for a second night and Kristen and Ray were coaxed out to join us. We started off nice and early.

Homoerotic, to say the least.

Josh is falling over. Ray's already had too much. Matt's asleep. Jeremy is hiding in the background. Jared is getting his water on. And Johnathan drove all the way up from Virgina and all he got was this lousy prep boy sandwich.

Ahh, karaoke.
Why is Jeremy always hiding?
This is Ray, probably singing some obscure Smiths song. At least he tips well.

It's almost as if we rented the place out.

Josh, representin'

Matt got out of work early!!


Classic Kristen.

Jared. I screwed up the song for him because I kept making him look away from the TV screen. Sorry!
Jeremy and Johnathon with Jeremy's proud Dad standing by. He's one of the coolest "grown ups" I know.




Kristy also brought her parent. What a Dove commercial.

So damn cute.
That leprechaun has a woody.




Thanks for the support.


Thanks to Kristen and Ray for putting up with Rack N Roll again. They are used to singing every 15 minutes back in Clevy. But I bet your bar tab for 5 hours doesn't ever compare to my measly 20 dollar one!

Old Sensation With New Wave Nation

Matt and I usually don't miss a New Wave Nation show when they come to Erie. One of the best ones was around this time last year. And I still think they are the reason Britain came three weeks early because we saw them at a block party the night before she arrived. I think their speakers shook her placenta free. But this time was still fun for the whole family.

Ken Harding. I think he looks like Tim Robbins.
From left: Jeremy, Christie, Matt, Josh, Johnathan, New Wave Nation lead singer Jay Secrest, Jess and Jared. For some reason they thought they should flip me off. Check out Matt's. I think Dane Cook would be proud.
Randy Horn.
Christie and Tam.




Jeremy. Everyone looks good when wearing those.

I bought these at Victoria's Secret.
Jay Secrest

Jeremy, Matt, Josh, Johnathan and Geoff.
So fine.
Christie and Jeremy with Josh in the background.

So THAT'S why Christie and I thought there were so many hot guys there!

No beer goggles needed!
Josh and Matt. When Matt told him we were getting married, he told us he was too, to a Katelyn. Then when he told Josh we had a baby, he asked if we kept her. HAHAHAHA! Just an example of Josh, I guess.

Geoff is one of my favorites!

This chick was getting married. Oh how I aspire to be a bachelorette at a New Wave Nation show! Maybe someday. I'm not sure about the elephant penis toothbrush though. Oh, what? That's a sippy cup? Um, still no thanks.