Have I told you yet that my husband is taking me on a secret birthday trip?  Well he is.  This is all I know so far;
We are going to San Francisco.

I am supposed to wear jeans and a cute shirt.

THAT IS IT!

I know we are doing on thing today.  And a couple things tomorrow (I think)

So.  Make your best guess.  What exactly do you think my husband plans to do with me?????

I can’t wait to see your ideas, and I can’t wait to ell you what really happened.

My smart ass cousin Lisa thought it would be funny to put this in my bag of birthday presents.

ASSHOLE!

Today’s CVS savings

Todays savings

2 liter diet coke $1.99
2 liter diet coke $1.99
Bounty 6 pack select a size $10.99
Headphones $19.99
Quilted Northern 12 pack double roll $10.99
Sprite Zero 1.39
Total $47.34

Coupon for free 2 liter diet coke X 2 coupons
Total 44.75

CVS extra care bucks $3.50
Total $41.25

$10.00 of purchase of $20.00 or more x 3 coupons
total $10.55

Purchase prescription and get $25.00 gift card.
Total out of pocket ZERO

Not to mention I have $14.00 remaining on gift card

 

Then I got home and found a coupon for a free product of my choice from the Bath and Body signature line up to $12.00.  I heart this week
 

So. About the last gym visit. I met with the trainer for my first actual training session. I kind of expected to go over the equipment and get a simple routine. I showed up and immediately we began going over strength exercises. I was taking my time listening and learning what he said. He had me try each thing a few times. Next thing I know he says, “come on, hurry up we’ve got a lot to learn here.” Nine exercises later he tells me, “Okay I’m going to time you, I want to see how fast you can do fifteen reps of all of the things I showed you, one after another GO”

Go! Wait what, shit, seriously. I started off strong. I had this shit. Body row, shit no problem. Dead lifts, I got this. Pull up machine, psssh doesn’t it get any harder. Then he had me do some kinda thing where I held on to a bench facing away and lowered my self to the ground and back up, kinda a backwards inside out push up. Okay, starting to get a little winded here. He is laughing, getting down on his hands and knees staring at my ass making sure it was touching the ground each and every time. JERK! I finish all of the arm stuff when he shouts LUNGES LUNGES. Suddenly he is chasing me making sure my knees where “kissing the ground” on each lunge. I am pretty sure I started dying at that point. I felt like I was lunging towards “the light.” Then he demanded squats and I think my ass cheeks fell off. But it was the squat thrusts that ultimately did me in. I could barely move. I was begging for a drink of water. My mouth was so dry I was worried I would swallow my tongue. By this point I was barely moving. My squat thrusts turned into squat barely functioning someone pull me off the ground thrusts. 8 minutes and 36 seconds later I was done. Welcome to the world of circuit training.

I looked Karl my trainer right in the eye and said, “I think I am going to puke.” His response, THAT’S GOOD!

So not good. He had me walk a lap around the track to cool down and finally gave me the sweet relief of water. Y’all I think I could run a marathon and not feel as worked out and dead as I did in those eight minutes. I was covered in sweat, not only boob sweat, but ass sweat, and I think thigh sweat, and my face was pouring sweat and I could feel drops of water dangling off of my mustache that until now was not visible to the public.

I limped down to the locker room. I don’t care if it was only eight minutes I was DONE. I opened my locker and I wanted to die right there. I had worn my four inch CFM boots to the gym that day. What the shit was I thinking? I shook trying to sit down and still wanted to puke. I strapped on my boots and proceeded to teeter totter out of there. FOUR INCH BOOTS NEVER AGAIN.

The next day was worse. I could barely walk down my stairs. My husband got a good chuckle watching me hold the railing and step down sideways like a two year old, wincing the entire way down. The following day I still couldn’t walk. My husband repeatedly assured me that when I went back to the gym that day, the pain would go away as I stretched out and worked out some more.

LIAR LIAR LIAR. I did my arms and set about to do lunges. I lunged down, letting my right knee KISS the ground and then…

I WAS STUCK.

I shit you not, I could not get up. My leg was frozen. I had to push myself up off the ground. I tried again and again STUCK. I shot my husband a nasty look to which he replied, “keep going babe it gets better.” Let me tell you a story. It did not get better, it continued hurting and for seven more days after that I hurt. I discovered I had pulled something in my quad and pretty much lunges and squat thrusts were in time out for about two weeks.

I think I might try it again Wednesday but I make no promises. Fucking circuit training.

Lets see. What else is going on? My birthday is Thrusday and my husband is taking me out of town on some kind of secret mission this weekend. Secret missions are not my best because I NEED TO KNOW NOW NOW NOW! I’ve done very good at not begging him to tell me, and the other day when he even offered to tell me because he felt it was important I told him not to. It is fucking killing me not knowing. How do you pack for a secret trip to San Francisco? What kind of shoes do I need? The suspense is killing me dead. The weekend after that my girl friends are taking me to the Chocolate Bar open the menu if you dare. I already have an appetizer picked out, plus two deserts (one counts as an entrée right?) and 3 drinks. White chocolate raspberry milkshake alcohol drink YES PLEASE.

I went to pick up my prescriptions today and the pharmacy was closed. Wait. Let me rephrase. The front door was closed. The second door was open and the store was pitch black. I called them and was told, they had no electricity and couldn’t open. Huh. Maybe post a note on the door assholes. So I trekked off to a second CVS to transfer the prescription. Only they couldn’t transfer it since the other CVS computers were down. I left with zero prescriptions filled, and heartburn that would kill someone. I’m currently puking up burning hot acid from my acid reflux and I’ve eaten enough Rolaids Soft Chews to fill up a small country. Five hours later my meds are ready. To bad I’ve already spent the day with my bile burning a hole in my throat.

I returned to CVS later to find out that Safeway never called for my refill so CVS could not transfer the refill. The lady felt so bad she allowed the CVS to CVS transfer to count and gave me the coupon anyway. Here is what happened next:
Ice Age 3 $29.99
Loofa $2.99
Kids toothpaste
$5.49 Large
Gatoraid $1.99
Hersheys bar $.89
fruit stripes gum $1.19
Tic tacs $1.39
welchs juice 1.69
Total $42.92
Transfered a prescription so I got a $25.00 gift card new total $17.92
swiped cvs in coupon printer $5.00 off purchase of $30.00 or more New total $12.92 Swiped CVS card at register took $8.00 off movie
FINAL TOTAL 4.92
(can you tell I was shopping with Codi)

On top of it, I’ve been on a mission to find this new Pitbull song. I’ve heard it on the radio twice and I love it. It is none of the songs you are going to suggest, not the hotel one, nor the Krazy one no no no. It does not exist on iTunes, it does not exist on Google. IT DOES NOT EXIST. I’m beginning to think it is my imagination. Do you know how frustrating it is to find the perfect work out/get work done song and not be able to find it. The fucking song is just teasing me.

That is about all that is new. Brandon is doing a Trike A Thon this week to benefit St. Judes Childrens Hospital. I opened a Pay Pal account for people to donate since Rob has family in Japan and other far away places. I am a fucking genius. It worked so good. I have one day left for donations, I’m hoping to earn enough for Brandon to win the big prize. He gets to bring his monster trike to school on Thursday too. The little flyer they sent home said all kids could bring their bikes on Thursday. I asked the front desk at school today who replied “oh we are just using the school trikes.” My thinking is you should read the flyers you hand out a little better so parents don’t go promising their four year old something only to spend the rest of the morning figuring out how to tell him that no he can’t bring his monster trike to school. The front desk lady ended up saying it would be fine, and she felt really bad for not reading the form well enough. My problem is, I don’t want to bring his and have the other kids get mad because they were told no. Sigh. School is a pain in my ass man!

My parents took the boys on a super mission around California last weekend.  It ended with some fishing.  Brandon and Codi managed to catch four fish.  Three of them were caught on their tiny little cars fishing pole.  They fucking loved it.  The downside.  Now I have to cook nasty ass fish which involves TOUCHING nasty ass fish and then having fish smell in my house.  I guess since it makes Brandon super mega happy I will suffer through touching fish scales.  They did a lot more stuff, I’m going to upload pictures tomorrow of their trip and their 14" fish!

Okay, I guess I am finally ready to call it a night.  Peace out fools!

 

First! You all fail.  You were just supposed to know better then to say ketchup on meatloaf.  We are blogger friends I thought we had some kind of telekinetic bond where you could just read my mind.  The reason for the question.  Every time I make meatloaf it just makes sense to me that you would put gravy on it.  To my husband it makes sense to put ketchup on it.  Which, okay if you want your meatloaf to taste like a hamburger FINE.  My problem isn’t with the ketchup it is with the 500 cups of ketchup he douses it in.  After going back and fourth for a while he told me to ask you.  AND YOU ALL TOOK HIS SIDE YOU BIG JERKS.  You didn’t just say ketchup, but there were tons of you saying SLATHERED, DRENCHED, SOAKED.  Rubbish!  So, now my husband is walking around all puffed up being like "hahahah I told you so, even your blogger buddies can’t protect you."  And I’m all "Watch it buddy I will so punch you in your nose."

Moving on.  I’ve come across a few things lately that totally  make me nuts.

The first one?  When you go into a bathroom stall and there is no where to put your stuff down.  The bathroom at the gym has nothing.  Some bathrooms have a toilet paper holder deep enough to set something on.  NOT THIS ONE.  So, in order for me to pee, I have to cram my iPod down my sports bra, shove my headphones in there too, hold my sports bottle between my teeth and then try and pee.  Then I have to do it all again to pull my pants up.  So now I’m trying to lean over a little, not drop my bottle and OMFG why isn’t there a goddamn shelf in womens bathrooms?

It drives me nuts that in order find a sports bra that actually holds your D cups in, that means it has to be so tight that you have to wiggle and jiggle around like a hot dog to force the thing over your head.  Then you have to shimmy around and look like a fool to try and convince the thing to pull down over your boobs.  That isn’t the worst.  The worst is then trying to get it off.  So now it’s drenched in sweat and it’s sort of like pulling jeans on when you are covered in lotion only it’s worse because this thing is kind of like trying to skin an eel.  So you grab on from the bottom of it pull up, your arms are struggling above your head, your legs inevitably start jumping back and forth to try and bounce the thing off.  You become totally aware that everyone in the gym is now staring at you, because obviously their tiny little B cups have never had this problem with their industrial strength sports bra.  At this point, your arms are tangled over your head, your bra has moved an inch and you are sweating worse then you just did during your work out.  Finally the thing comes off, but some how it rolls up over your arms so now they are locked up in the bra and can’t move.  After some ninja moves you finally pry the fucker off.  It shoots across the locker room like a rubber band and you find yourself slumped over on the bench, your boobs dangling down to your ankles wondering why WHY GOD, do woman need sports bras?

I swear just once, I would like to see my husband not only put on, but take off a sports bra without complaining.

Moving on.  I know we are all supposed to be buddy buddy women, but, that doesn’t mean I enjoy turning around to get an eye full of 50 year old vag.  The worst is when it’s unavoidable.  You turn around and there is a lady with one leg up on the stool proudly lotioning herself, chest up proud, and pubic hair blazing like the American flag.  I hate that.  They don’t even give you a chance to cover your eyes, you just turn around and WHAM right in your face!

I didn’t eat for a few hours after that.

Moving right along.  I am so bent that I am starting to like that stupid new fucking Miley Cyrus song.  OMFG could it be any more of a lame teeny bopper bullshit song.  What is worse then liking it is going to sleep three nights in a row with that fucker in your head.  Imagine trying to drift off to the sound of,

I’m noddin’ my head like "Yeah!"
Movin’ my hips like "Yeah!"

Somebody shoot me!

On the subject of music, I am ashamed to say I also found myself liking the new Rhianna song and I’m beginning to wonder if the entire music industry isn’t on a mission to totally fuck with my head.

And to conclude this little rant, there is nothing better then running out side in the morning in the freezing ass cold, barefoot to grab your sons lunchbox out of your car because you forgot it, only to step on your husbands frozen slippery early morning loogie in the drive way!

Fuck me!

You are eating a big plate of meatloaf, what do you put on top of it?

Turns out the other day wasn’t my assessment.  It was an orientation, my official assessment is Monday.  My husband had his today and was sure to tell me what it included.  First, I will need to do push ups until my arms give up, okay mark me down for two of those bad boys.  Then I need to do sit ups until I can’t anymore.  I’ll tell him I will sit up if he puts a donut in front of me.  Of course they are going to pinch all of my skin which just sounds awesome right?

Anyway I got all gungho tonight after riding 8.67 miles on the bike in 30 minutes and decided to push my luck.  I went over to the free weight section and began doing all of those curls and rowing and pull down thingies that are supposed to make my arms look like I am 15 again.  Midway through my arms started calling me names.  You know you are working hard when your arms are screaming "stop it you crazy bitch, we only do this much lifting if it involves cartons of ice cream."  I finally finished and headed down to the locker room.  I noticed an obscene amount of boob sweat.  Do you know what that means? Means I was working out y’all.  I rate my work out intensity solely on the quantity of boob sweat I have and today I would say 6" x 2" meant I did a pretty rocking work out.

I finished up in the locker room and went to get Codi, to which I discovered he had pooped.  I grab my massive bag and trudge out to my car with him.  He was plunked down in the trunk of my car as I went to work wiping and scraping and…it was one of those poops that resembles peanut butter.  Suddenly the little shit (he he, shit get it) moved just right and jammed three of my fingers right in his shit.  I finished up and went about wiping my hands with about 40 wipes.  Put him in his seat, got in, started the car and not even thirty seconds later I went to pick my  nose WITH SHIT ON MY FINGERS.  Apparently 40 wipes was not enough and there was still poo under my nails. So now, I’m driving around, with arms like jelly shit on my hands and every time I breath it smells like crap.

If that wasn’t bad enough I missed my turn and found myself lost.  You know, lost in the town I have lived in for 27 fucking years.  At this point my arms are getting belligerent, and being lost was not helping the situation.  I tried to turn down a road, which turned out to be a one way road, and by road I mean not a road at all more like a tiny fucking toy car sized street.  So I’m cruising down when HOOOONK.  Fuck.  I just ran a stop sign.  But dude, I’ve never been here before how in the fuck was I supposed to know there would be a stop sign in the middle of fucking no where.  Finally after a good eight minutes I maneuver myself out of that area and onto the freeway.  My arms are now seizing up and shaking so bad I’m driving like some kind of drunk mother fucker with their kid in their car.  Awesome.

When I finally got home and went to put my car in park that was it, that was to much.  My arms just gave.  I wanted to cry right then and there.  Again I guess that means I had a good workout right? Or it means I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and I broke my muscles trying to be a big shot on the pully down machine thing.

So lets recap.  I came home covered in sweat, stinking like…body odor, mixed with sweat, mixed with WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SMELL.  I have shit on my hands, my arms don’t work, I have shit in my nose and my hair was frizzing out like someone rubbed a balloon on my head to create static cling.

I believe the score is, Shannon 0 Gym 2

I don’t know how my husband even kissed me when I got home, I was exactly the opposite of a sexy bitch.

Fucking gym!

I am so guilty. I am…AN UNSHOPPER! Dun dun dun. Do you do this? You know what I mean. You get to the store, try really hard to stick to your list but of course a few treats or other things you “need” slip in the cart. Then, by the end of the trip you find yourself digging around in your cart pulling stuff out you can’t afford. I am notorious for this. I once with shopping to Sams Club with some friends for my husbands birthday party . I picked up a big bag of cups, then 15 feet away I found a better deal on cups so I put them in my cart, pulled the other bag out and stuffed it in the spot I was. One of the people I was with gave me a look of total and utter disgust. She picked up the cups and ran back placing them exactly where they belonged, neatly stacked with the rest. The remainder of the trip was spent with me putting stuff in the cart, going two isles over and finding something that was a better price, or tastier, and removing what was in my cart only to have this girl pick it up, run five isles over and put it right back in it’s spot.

I do this at the grocery store all the time and it makes my husband crazy. Usually when I’m grocery shopping at the end of the trip about ten feet from the check out I will go through my cart and figure out what I don’t want and hide it all in a pile on a shelf. The worst I ever did was have the butcher give me a London Broil and then have Rob text that he doesn’t like that. I walked five isles over and shoved it on a shelf and went on my merry shopping way.

I went shopping with my friend Alli one day and I began unpacking and hiding my stuff. She asked me if I was “unshopping?” I was sooo excited to hear her say that. I WAS NOT ALONE. I was not the only person on the planet who did this. And since she did it too that totally made it okay. I loved shopping with her because we could unshop together. My husband did not appreciate my unshopping as much. I have even been known to shove a shirt or two behind some cereal boxes.

So. Yesterday at Walmart I made a big effort to unshop in the right area. I put my juice back in the cold area. I put my pork rub in the bbq sauce isle because that is the same, right” I had to put the coffee back in the right spot because someone was looking at me. I stuck the can soup near the chicken broth isle because broth and soup are basically the same. Towards the end I had a few more refrigerated things, so to be the good Samaritan that I am I walked to the front of the store where they have the cold cases of weird condiments etc and nicely put it all there. I was so proud of myself knowing that stuff wouldn’t be ruined.

So tell me do you unshop? Am I horrible person for unshopping? Do you have any naughty shopping secrets? Are you that person who steals a few grapes just to make sure they are safe (I am also guilty)?

In other news I was driving down the road listening to the radio when this song came on,

It is by Trey Songz – LOL

I love fisherprice.

804 335 0051,
LOL smiley face, LOL smiley face
(Soulja Boy Tell em)
804 335 0051,
LOL smiley face, LOL smiley face
(Gucci)

(Chrous)
Shorty just text me, says she want to sex me
LOL smiley face, LOL smiley face
Shorty sent a twitpic saying come and get this,
LOL smiley face, LOL smiley face

she message me on myspace told me she loved me, she txting my phone 4.30 in da morning
 

That is the chorus.  Umm.  Have we hit a new low in music when there is a song with LOL and Twitpic in the lyrics? It doesn’t even have a good beat so I can’t even rock out to the bullshit lyrics.

Then we brought this toy in for Codi this morning

This is Tumble Time Tigger.  He does cartwheels and hip shakes and head stands, while singing "Can’t Touch This."  Codi changed the lyrics to "Won’t Touch This."  Y’all he is terrified of this fucking doll.  He ran away jumped in my lap and yelled at it to STOP and go way. My mom and I were cracking up.  Of course we also turned it on about six more times because it was so funny.  What kind of kid is afraid of Tigger?

I have my meeting with the trainer dude today.  To do the evaluation.  Do you think I can wear spanx to the meeting?  He would probably know when he takes that little pincher thing to pinch my large amount of belly fat and tell me what a fatty mcfat I am.  But, maybe if I bought the skin color one he wouldn’t know.  However, I would have to buy them for my thighs too, because I don’t even want to know the circumference of my thighs, or arms, or waist.  I have tiny ankles do you think he will measure my ankles?  Everyone, say a prayer that he measures my ankles K, that way I don’t look like I’m made of 100% jello shoved in a balloon.  A very stretched out balloon..with C-section scars and cottage cheese legs.

 

Dear parking garage.  I drive a big huge SUV which I happen to love.  Do you think it would possible to make your parking spots and fucking smaller so I have to drive all the way to the top of the garage until I find an actual space that doesn’t look like it was made for a bicycle.  Do you know what kind of anxiety I get when I try and pull into a parking spot and worry that I’m going take out someone’s entire car?

 

Hey lady on the machine next to me, please stop looking at me.  Do I have a booger on my nose or something? Are my granny panties giving me a visible wedgie?  WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?  Oh, I know, its because you are transfixed with how my ass jiggles on the elliptical.

To the tiny little small trainer lady, how in the fuck is your body bending like that? 

To the scary ab machine in the corner, what exactly do you do?  And more importantly HOW DO YOU FUCKING WORK?  I’ve read all of your instructions, bent all the ways you said and NOTHING.  I don’t get it.  Machines like this need to come with tiny little people who sit next to them and tell you what exactly you need to do.

Seriously HOW DO YOU WORK?

Note to thigh machine.  I hope you die and rot in hell and get sent to a junk yard where they melt you down and turn you into a spoon that I can use to eat ice cream with.

To the perky lady at the front desk. Obviously you are so perky because you did not just spend the last hour arguing with thigh and ab machines.  And seriously, telling me to have a nice day?  Really?  I’m pretty sure that going home to ice your ass doesn’t count as a NICE DAY.

By the way. When did asses get muscles in them, because fuck my ass muscles hurt.

I have been to the gym four times and my arms still jiggle when I wave.  Awesome!

I meet with my trainer next week for my fitness evaluation, and to have my measurements done.  I am just going to tell him to mark me down as "giant wuss" who is 500% body fat.

To the lady in the elevator who said my hair was cute, you totally made my day.   What did not make my day was seeing a 70 year old lady go to the machine I was just on and add 60 pounds to what I was just lifting.  Paging captain wussy, paging captain wussy.  What’s that is someone calling me?

Oh hey, you know what helps at the gym?  Remembering to bring your water.  Ooh, grabbing a towel is good too.  There is nothing sexier then a fat chick on an elliptical with boob sweat and ass sweat and enough sweat on her face to slick her bangs back like a rocker girl from the 80’s.

The only good part of my work out today was the part where I left and went to Walmart and bought some Double chocolate fudge slow churned ice cream. Oh yeah, that baby is calling my name as soon as the kids go to sleep (because yes I am that mom who doesn’t share her ice cream).

And finally, am I the only one who always seems to have to fart right when I start working out?  And then you spend the next twenty minutes seeing just how tight you can clench your ass muscles together.

(Side note: Of course I don’t fart, I was speaking hypothetically about other people)

(Side side note: Husband please forget you ever read that last paragraph)

Dear Shannon,

I just wonder how many times in one day you can lose your fucking pen. It is a pen, it can’t go far. Maybe, before ripping your entire desk apart you should consider looking right in front of your face.

Also can you please tell me how one two year old can make a massive mess of your entire work place in 1 hour?

If you need to write an appointment in the book with pencil it would be a great idea to have lead in your pencil. It would be an even better idea to not let your two year old run off with your lead and hide it from you. Also please inform said two year old that my expensive pencil erasers are NOT gum.

Plan on having at least two cups of coffee to get through the day. If you don’t you are dumb and deserve the mid day caffeine crash.

Make sure your iTunes are filled with good music. Enya is just not going to cut it for these overly busy days.

You bought cute little folders for work USE THEM DUMBASS.

Try to remember to bring your cups and lunch items back home. It is pretty hard to bring a cup of coffee to work if every coffee cup you own is locked in your office at work.

Take the time to go pee. Holding it in for an hour so you can get more work done is not beneficial you will get a lot more work done if you aren’t busy worrying about how much your bladder hurts.

Hide your candy stash better. Once it is found, consider it gone!