You knew it was coming.

Political and sociopolitical rants a la Amy:

  1. How can a WOMAN not be a feminist? Do you not understand what that means? If I hear one more woman say “I’m not for equal rights”, I’m gonna strap an apron around her waist and tell her to go ask her spouse or father for her list of approved activities for the day. What? Equal rights mean just that. Equal rights. Whether you choose to cater to your husband’s every whims or run a business like a boss, all feminism means is that it’s your prerogative to do whatever you believe is best for your own life.
  2. Why is Bill Clinton’s history relevant to this election? Last I heard he wasn’t running for President. But do you know who is? Trump, a man on his 3rd marriage who publicly cheated on both of his previous wives. (Per Wikipedia, his divorce from Ivana was granted on the grounds of ‘cruel and inhumane’ behavior.) Why is no one talking about this?
  3. How is a Presidential nominee saying that he ‘grabs women’s P******’ locker room talk? How are WOMEN condoning statements like this? It’s not funny. It’s not cute. It’s bragging about sexual assault! Look, I’m all for a dirty joke. But this wasn’t a joke where the punchline was funny. This was a joke where the punchline involved an old, entitled, orange dude forcefully hitting on and assaulting a young married woman, and then trying to have her fired for refusing his advances. I seriously don’t understand how this is even remotely acceptable to anyone, let alone women. If I hear one more woman try to explain away talk like this from someone who wants to be leader of the free world, I might have to slap a bitch.
  4. How can Mike Pence stand behind Trump? Pence is scary in his own right (check out his ULTRA conservative views- I mean the stuff my nightmares are made of), but he seems to be a bit of a better man than Trump. After this weekend’s ‘hot mic’ leak AND Trump fully re-buffing Pence’s foreign policy statements during last nights debate!!! (what!? You seriously don’t do that.), it will be interesting to see what happens next. I wouldn’t be surprised if Pence just walked away from Trump and from the election all together. (It would be the best thing he could do for his career.)
  5. This election has NOTHING to do with Republicans versus Democrats. I am a lifelong, passionate Democrat (duh.), but I can see the other side and have respected(ish) all of the past Republican Presidents and Presidential Nominees. Until now. I do not respect Donald Trump. There are philosophical differences between a R and D that keeps the line drawn in the sand. But Trump isn’t really a Republican and is certainly not a conservative. He ideals are all over the place and his policies are borderline incoherent. True Republicans are jumping ship all over the place. So before you decide to vote for Trump because you are a Republican and his ideals most align with yours, do yourself a favor and check out what he really stands for. (Assuming you can figure that out.)
  6. Watching the debate last night seriously almost gave me a heart attack. It was disgusting! Trump made a mockery of the office of the President of the United States, and by extension, Americans as a whole. I was truly embarrassed to be an American as I sat and (uncomfortably) watched. Our country is better than this and our people are better than this.  And I feel bad for Hillary Clinton. Like her or not, she is polished, professional and as prepared as they come to be President. Yet she is forced to deal with the shit storm that is Donald Trump. Where were the policy conversations? Where were the real answers? She’s got them, but she has to spend so much time wading through the knee-deep crap spewed by her offensive opponent that she has little time to really talk about what really matters.
  7. If Donald Trump was anyone else, he would be laughed off a debate stage. He says nothing of substance and is argumentative, bullish and crude. But somehow, because the expectations of him are so low, the country/media applauds when/if he makes a coherent statement. There is such a double standard here. Hillary is judged as the scholarly, knowledgable, public servant she is (and any mis-step is held against her), whereas Trump is given a free pass to be a giant ass at all times. I.just.don’

I can’t. I really just can’t take it. And I’m not completely sure I will make it to November 8th. This schizzy has me all sorts of in a tizzy. The good news is I have an absentee ballot ready to be sent in, and in the event of my untimely politics induced-death, Brad has strict instructions to mail it. At least my last action will be to make it very clear that


That’s a poop.

My bitch of a scale is in time out again. Seriously???! Can I ever win?

So ten of my family members are doing a Biggest Loser Challenge, and the Week 2 weigh in was this morning. (If you watch the Biggest Loser on TV, you know week 2 is always bad. …foreshadowing.) Well, it wasn’t going to be for me because I KILLED it this week. I was seriously the stuff Bob Harper’s dreams are made of- NO booze (even on the weekend), no grains, only naturally occuring sugars, totally within 1200 calories everyday AND I ran 4 times and went to 5 gym classes in the past 7 days. When I felt hungry, I ate an apple for God’s sake. I’m not sure I could have done more. (I was DJ Tanner on the treadmill and Jesse Spano with her caffeine pills. “I’m so excited”…) So I was pumped this morning. I had visions of 7 lb losses and Biggest Loser crowns.

Alas, I was down less than one measely pound. ONE F@!#@! POUND! WHHHHHHHHAT!? That’s a poop. Is this a damn cosmic joke? Oh the humanity…

There’s been times in my life that this would have totally derailed me. All that work, and nothing!? I would have totally given up. But you know what, fuck that. The scale is not the end all be all. (Although she is a raging bitch and I hate her.) It is just one form of measurement. I am sore as can be, so it’s clear I worked hard. My pants are a wee bit looser, so I got that going for me. And we still have 6 weeks to go. So instead of moping, I’m going to feel good. Good that I killed it at the gym, good that I ate healthy, and good that I didn’t hate every step of it. In fact, it all felt good. I’m on the right track and that’s just that. So booyah whore-scale.

(Sidenote: In trying to talk myself off a ledge this morning after the horrid weigh-in, I found this article. I may well be appeasing myself, but it could be true!? Only time will tell I guess.

Sore Muscles and Weight Gain

Can muscle soreness cause weight gain? I already mentioned that when muscles tissue breaks apart fluids enter the tissue to compensate and recover the muscle and that causes some slight weight gain on the scale.

This 2-5lbs change on the weight scale is a result of water retention when muscles are damaged. In 72h your weight will go back to normal and there is nothing to worry about.

Two skanky princesses, a witch and a football player.

We are having a kid-centric Halloween party in a couple weeks and I thought it’d be cute to come up with a family costume. (And by “cute”, I know it’s also pretty cheesy …It’s where I am- get over it.) Of course, the girls think everything I come up with is pretty.damn.lame. Which brings me to yet another kid revelation:

Children have their own damn opinions.

Who knew!?

Prior to these screaming beings popping out of my body, I did not fully appreciate the fact that they would have opinions of their own. Strong, strong opinions. I fantasized about their cute little outfits (my little blonde girls with pigtails, cute overalls and Chucks— haha, as if), their sweet, obliging temperaments (ummm) and their love for all things I love (hmm).

Alas, you know what this Halloween will be? (I’m calling it now.) We’ll discuss and discuss, and in the end, they’ll refuse everything, I’ll give up, and they’ll be princesses. (Ideally with inappropriate amounts of skank-like make-up and “high shoes”- aka high heels.) And Brad and I will be something random and thrown together (read: me with a witch hat on and Brad with a football jersey) because after fighting with the divas I will just not have the energy for anything else.

Because god forbid they concede to be the adorable Alice & Wonderland cast I envisioned. (Annie- Alice,  Violet- the White Rabbit, Me- Queen of Hearts, Brad- The Mad Hatter.) Seriously, wouldn’t that be adorable? In my hypothetical world of pretend children it would have totally happened, but not so much in the real world of actual strong willed, opinionated divalicious devil-children.

Elsa & Anna with damn light up faces!

The girls went shopping this weekend (not with me), and it happened. Disney.themed.light-up.sneakers. F@%! These ugly things represent all that is wrong with the world.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve turned over a new leaf. My kids don’t always have to be dressed to the nines*. (I’d still like them to be, but I’ve realized that what I want and what can peacefully happen in the span of a morning are two very different things.) For example, you should see the way Violet dresses herself for school! (I can’t. I just can’t.) I’ve basically given up and anything pretty much goes. But although her clothes may not match, at least each item has individual merit. I like to think that a discerning eye could see how, if the kid wasn’t such an opinionated pain in my rear, a very nice outfit could be made out of the pieces. Insert ugly light-up shoes and my whole theory goes out the window.

The girls could not be more ecstatic about these hideous sneakers. They think they are seriously the coolest thing that ever happened to them.  And I would clearly be the world’s meanest Mommy if I told them they couldn’t wear them. So, what’s a(n) (obviously much too controlling) Mom to do? What else can I do but suck up my detest for cartoon-themed, self-illuminating clothing and let them rock the ugly things. (Note: My pretend children in my hypothetical world would NEVER wear these damn shoes.)

*Sidebar: Ever wonder where the expression ‘to the nines’ came from? This is what trusty ol Wikipedia told me:

To the nines” is an English idiom meaning “to perfection” or “to the highest degree” or to dress “buoyantly and high class”. In modern English usage, the phrase most commonly appears as “dressed to the nines” or “dressed up to the nines”.[1][2]

The phrase is said to be Scots in origin.[2] The earliest written example of the phrase is from the 1719 Epistle to Ramsay by the Scottish poet William Hamilton:

The bonny Lines therein thou sent me,
How to the nines they did content me. also told me that:
Nine is the most troublesome number in etymology. There are several phrases of uncertain parentage that include the word. Examples are, cloud nine, nine days’ wonder and the infamous whole nine yards. We can add ‘dressed to the nines’ to that list.


Yaaaaas bitch.

My brain is scattered today. The kids are home. I’m “working”. (Thankfully still in the early ‘training’ phases. Not really all that much to do but keep the old computer looking active.) Violet is sitting at the table with me singing about Princess Poopy-Butt (I don’t know, it’s just what she does), and Annie is “cutting things” up in her room. Hmm. I am clearly not Mary Poppins today, but we’re mustering through.

(Speaking of Mary Poppins, this is my new favorite song and Randy Rainbow may be my new favorite person. See video. Song starts at 43 seconds.)

“Yaaaaas Bitch! …Excuse me. I mean Secretary Bitch.”

Side note: Trump!!!!?!!?! What the ever loving FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhQ!? (That’s all I have the energy for today. Don’t worry, the soapbox is coming soon.)


I’m rusty…

But I think I might be back to the bloggin!

New job + Back in front of the DAAAAAAAAMN computer = A girl needs a sanity outlet! (And nothing says ‘sanity’ like talking to yourself in the vein of sharing your life with a bunch of people that may or may not be reading what you say on the other end.)

It’s been almost a year and a half since I last posted. Ironically my last post was touting my Broad Street run and my physical fitness successes. I say ironic because although this last year has been kind to the soul, it has not been kind to the ol backside. There was a lot of hanging out with kids, eating PB&Js, snuggling, packing, moving, stressing (about packing and moving), chilling and playing. There was NOT a lot of eating well, exercising, food prepping, lifting, stretching, running or crunching.

Alas, today is a new day! We’ve got the family Biggest Loser Challenge in full swing (from now until Thanksgiving), I’ve got a new job which will hopefully afford the structure needed to get my butt back to the gym (or at least back to the road for a run), and the girls are both in school. (My grand aspirations about all the things I would do when I was at home with the kids are pretty laughable in retrospect… Homemade everything!? Please, I was lucky if I showered on a semi-regular basis.)

Anyway, I’m going to start documenting my life again. I can’t promise excitement, but I can promise decorating pics of the new house, kid stories, tales of my life as a Girl Scout leader (yes- I did that. why!?! why did I do that?), political rants, and lots of over-sharing. (Sadly, I haven’t pooped behind a dumpster lately, but when/if I do, you’ll be the first to know.) Stay tuned…