It happened in Sun Valley

No, it actually happened in Greenville; I'm sure no one cares. I did not cringe yesterday when I had my coffee with just cream. Seriously. I drank it ALL and didn't make the face you'd make after you swallow vomit burps (not even once). I don't want to jinx myself, but I feel good and I am pretty sure my taste buds are changing for the better.
The "sweet" part of my diet has consisted of fruit...fruit...and, yes, fruit. Sometimes, I get bored with my dates and grapes sometimes, so I will do this:

Yeah, making smiley faces out of fruit while I should be working seems about right. But I digress. All of this fiber is making my bowels more regular than usual (I could care less if this is information about me you didn't want to know) and I never have to worry about my sweet snack being wrapped up in the goodness/harmfulness of gluten.
I can share that sad times have come between my scale and me: I haven't lost any more weight. Honestly, I wasn't going forward with this 40-days of no sugar shit for weight loss, but I was sad to see the number hadn't moved in a week. 
There is some good (and impressive) news though: I'm pleased to report that I have not slipped up at all...not even once. I take desserts home and freeze them, I've been saying "no" to cookies (which is SOOOOOO hard), and I have even gone as far as to bring something sweet with me when I travel for work so I am not tempted while I aimlessly drive around the country. Do you want to pat me on the back yet? No? Well, I'm sorry...but that's all I've got for now.
Soon, I will face the greatest challenge of Lent to date. In a week, my office is hosting a wonderful dinner for some counseling friends from around the country. I arranged the menu. The dinner is going to be delicious and semi-healthy (as healthy as you can get from campus catering services). Then there's the desserts: fully loaded cheesecake bar AND a self-serve coffee station, complete with 10 different flavored syrups, rock sugar sticks, flavored creams, and whipped cream. Holy shit...I am going to be in serious trouble!!! I'm planning on taking some of the cheesecake home in Tupperware containers (umm, yes, I am TOTALLY that person. Face it, they will only throw it out anyway so I may as well take it home and eat the crap out of it on Easter Sunday). The coffee? Ugh. I don't know! THIS. BLOWS.
Well, one of 2 things will happen after Lent is over: I will either 1) taste sugar again and say, "EEWWW! Sugar is gross!" and vow to eat it only in very limited quantities or 2) taste sugar again, remember how delicious it is, shut myself in my house for 30 years consuming every sugary morsel I can get my grubby little hands on, look in the mirror one day, realize I have turned into the mama on "What's Eating Gilbert Grape", go into a diabetic sugar coma, and die knowing full well that Randy had to burn down our house (with me inside of it) because I was too chubby for him to get me out.
How have your Lenten promises been going? Is your quarter jar full yet? That is why I didn't give up swearing again this year. Last year I did, and I was broke 2 weeks in!

Lenten woes

You know, I still semi want to kill myself. This no sugar business was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be! The bad news? I'm still really mean (a change from the norm, you ask? No, not really). I seem to have replaced my sugar cravings for salt and my blood pressure is going up some. I have wicked horrible gas (could be from other things, but I am blaming it on my body undergoing detox). The positive news? I lost 4.2 pounds (now I'm a whopping 156.8). Might have been more (I KNEW I should have pooped before jumping on that scale this morning) but I will take what I can get at this point. I actually do feel a little healthier. My headaches have, for the most part, subsided; I am sleeping a little better. I am not craving Hershey kisses or Dove squares, or Pixie Sticks. Oh, GAWD, that's such a lie. All I can think about is sugar, and how amazing it would be to rub my face in some frosting, or devour a heaping spoonful of raspberry jam, or roll around in some pancake syrup and spend the rest of the afternoon licking myself clean like a cat. <<sigh>> I love a good "top 10" list, so here goes:

Top 10 sugary foods I miss most: 
literally in order of importance to me

1. Dunkin Donuts french vanilla decaf: light and sweet (and thanks for rubbing it in about the sugar...the giant NO is awesome)
2. Jam/ Preserves (a scoop in some plain Greek yogurt: YUM!)
3. Hard candy: Lifesavers, Peppermints, etc.
4.  KozyShack rice pudding (shout out to my dad...this is our favorite snack!)
5. Bolthouse Farm protein shakes
6. Grandma Spez's cheesecake tarts (God bless that little lady...92 years old and still baking for us)
7. Sugar cubes (don't judge)
8. Udi's gluten-free chocolate chip cookies
9. Cocoa Pebbles (really, don't judge)
10. Pancake syrup (the shitty stuff)

Perhaps after Lent is over, I will continue to stay away from the white stuff. As it stands right now, I would consider selling my soul to the Devil for one of my coffee creations (which I guess is the purpose of Lent...not the selling your soul part, but the temptation part). Can I live without my light and sweet coffee at Dunkin Donuts? Yeah, probably. Will I live without it? Mmmmm, probably not.

I will be back next week to share my updates. Until then, I will continue to eat more fruit and crap my guts out. Have fun with the now burned-into-your-mind image of me covered in syrup, licking myself clean. Hope that gross thought stays with you all week!

No sugar tonight in my coffee...

...no sugar tonight in my tea (or anything else for that matter). Lent is upon us. As Catholics, we are supposed to give up something that is a vice (just for 40 days...not forever, though I believe it should ultimately turn into "forever"). Typically, I try to give up swearing but let's be real: I fail within 40 minutes every year after I step in dog crap, or I lock myself out of the house, or I burn my ear on the curling iron. I recently read an article that suggests sugar is more addicting than heroin. While I've never tried  that drug, I am no stranger to the sweet, delicious taste of sugar. Here's the article link if you'd like to read it, too. This is why I've decided to give up refined sugar for Lent. My commitment to myself is to not cheat for 40 days. I believe I have bitten off more than I can chew.

Yesterday was the first day of no sugar. I sadly drove by Dunkin Donuts on my way to work and really missed drinking my large french vanilla (light and sweet, of course). The plain hot tea from home just wasn't cutting it. I had no brown sugar in my oatmeal, I avoided eating the tasty Milky Way bars that are in my desk drawer, and I even turned down a gluten free cookie at my friend's house (I know...big deal).

So, what is my point? Well, I'm starting these 40 dark days at 161 pounds and in decent health, but with terrible eating habits. I'm hoping that, by eliminating "the white stuff" from my diet, I will lose some weight, kill some of my addictive, sugar-monster behavior, and realize that I don't need to consume 4-5 CUPS of sugar every day (seriously, this is according to my doctor...how the hell am I not diabetic yet????). I'm still allowing myself fruit because I'll need something sweet to go in my belly. And because the sugar in fruit is natural. And because I would most likely strangle someone if I went 100% sugar free. I plan to weigh myself once a week on Wednesdays so I can document my progress.

How am I feeling? Great question. This morning, I semi wanted to kill myself. I woke up with a huge, super-giant, horrendous headache. All I could think about was drinking my scrumptious coffee and eating some yogurt with jam. Instead, I tried (for the first time in my life) coffee with JUST cream - total puke-fest - my usual egg whites with cheese and bacon, and plain oatmeal with raisins and walnuts (not as bad as I thought it would be, honestly). Lunch will be split pea soup with an apple and some cheese. Dinner is still up in the air. Snacks will be air-popped popcorn, cottage cheese, grapes, and Pixie Sticks (just kidding).

I will keep you posted.

Your humble servant,
Sara

Get on the WHAT?!

I figured it was time I updated you all on what was going on in my life. It's been pretty hectic lately! We just concluded our 2013 fall travel season (thank you precious baby Jesus), I'm just recovering from a 2 week cold, we bought a Pottery Barn sectional, Pip has decided to start eating the crotches out of underpants again, and I am happy to report that my Black Friday shopping is done (yes, I went on Friday and NOT on Thanksgiving). This morning is off to a great start considering I spilled an omelet on my dress (now I smell like eggs or farts, take your pick) and I forgot to pack a regular bra in my gym bag this morning (currently using band aids as nipple protection).  But I digress.
I would like to share the greatest travel story of my season with you and, believe it or not, it does not have anything to do with students or their insane essays (example: "I may look good on paper, but I look WAY better in person!!") or goofy things they ask at college fairs (example: "Don't you have any girls at your school? All I see are bachelor degrees...don't you offer bachelorette degrees?"). I had just finished a very good, very productive week of travel in southwestern New Jersey. I even got to see some good travel buddies!! The morning I was due to fly out of Philadelphia (a Friday), my father and youngest brother decided to meet me for breakfast. It was such a treat (a very early treat...but a treat nonetheless)! I'd say that little punky was excited, too:

I mean, seriously, look at that grin. While we were eating, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number (a bill collector, perhaps???) and ignored it. We finished eating, said our good byes and I headed to the airport. Two hours of driving later, I decide to check my messages. That phone call I missed? Yeah. It was USAir calling to tell me my flight had been canceled due to weather (it was sunny with a tiny breeze). I found a rest stop and called back, trying to get my flight rescheduled. They currently had me scheduled to leave at 3pm on Saturday which, in any normal life would have worked, but 1) I was out of money 2) I had to teach a dance class at 10am on Saturday and 3) I had to zoom to Clemson so I could work at a tailgating event after dance. Nope. Gotta be home on Friday. Let's try another airport. The people working at USAir's customer service were really nice. The lady told me that she could get me out of Newark today! YES! I said, book it - and I hurried to New Jersey.

I was at the Enterprise counter about to turn in my keys when the phone rang. Guess who? "USAir...your flight has been canceled." SHIT. "Hey, just kidding...I will need that car back." OK. Let's reschedule now for the third time. "How about Kennedy? There's a 5pm out tonight." Sweet God. OK! Let's go!!! Off to Kennedy I went. Got to the Enterprise counter. So far, so good. Turned my keys in god my print out of charges. RING RING. USAir again. Now I am mad, hungry, tired and super crabby. This makes for a lousy combination. "There is an 8pm flight leaving LaGuardia at 8pm." I figure, what the hell? I've come this far - why not just drive to Queens?! And I did. 

It is now about 4:30pm. I make it to LGA. Return my rental car (and pay another outrageous fee - and don't forget, I am broke, so it hurt), get on the shuttle, check in for my flight, find the gate and can now FINALLY relax because it seriously appears I am getting home tonight! I called my friend, Christine, to say hello (because now I have time and I finally stopped panting long enough to hold a conversation). We were mid-chat when I heard the voice over the loudspeaker say that my flight was canceled. @%&*!!! I hang up with Christine and call USAir back. Again, they were really nice. Now, however, the only flight they can put me on will be Sunday. Fine. Book it. Looks like I am going to spend the weekend at my dad's house. 

I call and tell him the scoop. "I'll come get you, Skip." 5pm. Rush hour. Friday night. Queens. Dad won't make it here until 8. "No, that's ok, Dad. I will take the train back home." **First stupid move.

How am I going to get my broke self (literally broke in every way: money, spirit, hope) to Grand Central? A bus for $13?? Hook me up!

I'm not hard to miss when I travel. My Vera Bradley obsession has hit an all time high and I've got at least 5 pieces (different patterns) that I travel with at all times. Not to mention the various pocketbooks, wallets, notebooks, lunch sacks, etc. that are also used on a daily basis. The woman helping passengers to board the correct bus saw that I was in disarray. I asked her when the next bus to Grand Central was due to arrive. She says in about 45 minutes. Great! I told her I was going to run inside for a second to use the restroom and that I would be right back. I went inside, peed, came out and was told that I missed the bus. What? It's OK; I will just wait for the next one. While I am waiting, my dad called. I couldn't hear him, so I went inside for 3 minutes. When I came out, I was told I missed the bus again. Now I am extra mad. "I looked all over for you...". Really? No you didn't. This time I stayed put and finally - an hour later - got on a bus. Because of the missed buses, I also missed the last peak train, which meant I had to wait another hour+ before the next one was ready to leave. Eh, I'll go grab a snack. That's how I ended up in Midtown.

Water? Check! Snack? Check! Now I'm feeling better. I make it back to the train station and realize people are dressed for a Halloween party (it was a few weeks before after all). So I ate my snack and stared for a good 20 minutes (oh, and took pictures).

I boarded the train. 70 minutes and I will be back on Chestnut Street. Thank God. I met a chatty little brat on the train who laid all over me, messed with my pants and loudly talked the entire ride. Let's add insult to injury. Honestly, she didn't shut up. I told her to talk to her mom. "Mommy headphones on. I talk to you." Hmm. Mommy's sick of listening to you, I see.

After texting the whole train ride, my phone is now dead. SAD! Finally, the train makes the stop in South Norwalk where I am going to switch and get on the train to Dad's. I go inside to check which platform I need to be on... "BUS". Bus? No, no. This must be a misprint. I follow the herd outside where, believe it or not, there was a bus waiting for us.

Can this night get any more insane!? Yes! There were 2 buses: one that made a few stops and ended in Bethel, and another that made a several stops and ended in Danbury. I got on the Bethel bus along with about 10 others. We were about to pull away from the station when 2 women and their 8 kids started chasing the bus. The bus stopped and let them on. Mistake #1. The kids shouted loudly on the bus about how they liked apples and what kind of socks was everyone on the bus wearing (SHUT UP!!!). We were 2 stops in when one of the women makes her way to the front of the bus. "We are on the wrong bus." Are you kidding me right now? Nope. They needed to go to Danbury. The bus driver tries to tell her that's too bad. She wasn't having it. So we stop in Branchville and idle for a good 30 minutes so the Danbury bus can catch up to us. Now, I don't really know if it was the snack I had in Manhattan or the bumpy bus ride or what, but when we stopped, I felt really sick to my stomach. I got off the bus to "get some air" and puked my guts out. How embarrassing. The Danbury bus finally arrives. We unload the ladies who can't seem to see a difference in two 3'x4' signs that say DANBURY and BETHEL and their kids who can't seem to live without knowing which Disney princess is everyone's favorite. And we were off...again.

I know what you're asking yourself: can this night get any worse? Yes. It sure can! The bus starts to skip a little. And I think we maybe hit something. Nope. Out of gas. The bus ran out of gas. Let me repeat this: THE BUS RAN OUT OF GAS. When the bus driver asked if anyone had a AAA card, I almost fell over. 

Someone came to our rescue, we gassed up, and headed to Bethel. Officially the worst/weirdest day/night ever.

I didn't think I was going to ever make it to my dad's house, but I did. At 11pm that night. I could have driven back to South Carolina in less time than it took me to zip around the tri-state. I also learned to pack extra snacks (maybe astronaut food), not drink so much coffee, and to bring a refillable water bottle at all times, not just when it will fit into my suitcase. Glad I got to see this little face for 2 extra days though:

And that, kids, ends my seemingly tall, but very true, tale.

Stu, the Segway riding rent-a-cop

Tonight was, well, blog-worthy. Really, bitch-worthy, but I'll settle for online griping. I love to walk. In fact, it is nothing for me to walk 10, 12, 14 miles. I used to run, but plantar fasciitis got me at the beach a few years ago and, since then, I have turned my attention to the thrill of the walk.

I like to hunt for trails and walking paths while I am "on the road" for work but I haven't been lucky on this trip. There are lots of nice neighborhoods to walk in though. And this is how my tale begins.

I wanted to walk somewhere where I could clock my mileage, not get run over, and have things to look at while I cruised. I figured out my path on my iPad and drove to the spot. I parked in a school parking lot, crossed the street, and began my 9 mile jaunt. 

How pleasant! Homes were beautiful, the yards were perfectly maintained, people were out walking their dogs or running; it was nice. I was about 6 miles in, feeling good, and sweating up a storm (it was about 100 degrees today). Then I heard a lawnmower? No... A leaf blower? No... Oh dear god, a Segway. I thought, who the hell walks the neighborhood on a Segway?! Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Then it happened. He wasn't walking...he was patrolling. 

"Can I help you?" I said, "not unless you would like to walk for me." He chuckled this smart ass chuckle and said, "oh, I wasn't being serious. What is your business in our neighborhood?" 

Is this guy for real???? He was honestly waiting for a response. Oh, Jesus, he IS serious!! "I'm just out for a walk. Is that alright?" "No, actually, it isn't. You are trespassing!" 

Isn't a neighborhood (that isn't gated) a public place? I thought streets were public. Perhaps I was wrong. Clearly, in the eyes of Stu the dweeb on the Segway, I was wrong. 

He actually wrote me a trespassing note!!! Then he followed it up with some nonsense about how I was not allowed back in the neighborhood unless I purchased a home. Um, whaaaaaat??!! I don't like you, Stu. You need a major life. When your Friday night consists of cruising the 'hood on a Segway looking for people who don't live there, that's just weird. So I was all pout faced, took my handwritten note of trespassing, and went back to my car. Oh, I was mad. 

I couldn't wait to floor it out of the school. I did a small stretch prior to getting in the car, hopped in the driver's seat, and tucked my left leg under my butt. What the hell stinks so bad? Is this a bruise? Oh no. No bruise. Dog crap. Sometime in between walking around a nice neighborhood and getting scolded by rent-a-cop Stu, I stepped in fresh dog crap, and then smeared it all over my leg, shorts, sock, and car seat. It was a lousy ride home to begin with and it also reeked of doggie poop. Super. Juuuuuust super. 

I would have posted a picture of the trespass note, but guess what I used to clean said dog shit from my messy self? Hey, I didn't have any napkins...

Family Vacations and Weight Watchers

Weight Watchers is killing me. Perhaps this is how people lose weight...they slowly die from the inside out. I am not sure, but I can tell you, if I have to consume one more cucumber, carrot, grape or apple, I believe I will spontaneously combust (or just die from embarrassment when the gigantic fart that's been building inside of me for days finally hhits). I am making progress, however. I have been going for 2 weeks and I am down a solid 3 pounds. For this Cheeto-loving, chocolate chip-eating, extra sweet coffee drinker, that's pretty good. My friend, Sandy, has been a real inspiration with the WW thing - she's almost 100 pounds down! HOW FREAKING AWESOME IS THAT!? 

I will admit, I was a bad girl at the beach as evidenced here:

Me and party-sized bag of "yum"

Party sized Cheetos? Seriously? Yes. Party of one: me. So sad. But so delicious. I believe this what English buffs refer to as a "catch 22". Side note: polka dots are your BFF when it comes to hiding a kangaroo pouch like the one I have hidden behind the Cheetos.

But I digress. My goal: to lose 25 pounds by Christmas. It will happen. I am sure I will be a miserable wretch but I am going to do it. OK. Enough of that. I just needed to whine.

In case you're wondering where I have been, the answer is simple: my sweet family came down to SC to visit me! What a great time we had! We hung around Greenville, ate barbeque, went to Charleston, saw a baseball game, played mini-golf, went on a Charleston harbor cruise, did some boogie boarding at the beach and managed to survive the 100+ degree weather! It was extra fun - we usually don't get visitors, so it's always nice when your favorite people come out of hiding to play. Here's a pic of my brothers and another of the three of us. Cuties, are we not?

Super, awesome little brothers

the three amigos

 I managed to get stung by a jellyfish. That sucker got me on both legs, my neck and my wrist. Jeez, did that hurt. I didn't think I was capable of running out of the water as fast as I did (seriously, I had to quit water aerobics because it was "too hard").  But out I ran. As I made it to land, I was swearing to myself (shit, shit, shit, shit!!), located my wallet, and scraped those skin-tearing barbs out of my legs with a credit card (they may have no available space for purchases, but they were good for something!). Off to the lifeguard station for a spray of vinegar and viola! Back in the water I went. 

While the sting was still, eh, stinging, Peter and I did manage to pass the time appropriately:

We rounded out our trip to Charleston with a harbor cruise - very neat! We cruised around Fort Sumter, looked at old naval vessels, saw dolphins and a bunch of other neat sights. Here is a view from under the Ravenel Bridge:

When we were back in Greenville, Andrew made wishes in a downtown fountain. I hope they come true!

I think everyone had a great time. I know I did. And you may be asking yourself about my sweet, adorable husband. Where was he on this vacation? Well, when you are a teacher (as several of my friends know), there is no rest for you. He was at home prepping lectures, writing notes, preparing the almighty syllabi and enjoying some quiet. He was definitely missed!

Sayōnara

I am known for 2 things in my neighborhood: 1) being the crazy woman whose man-eating dogs are always getting loose and 2) for having really pretty flowers. Milly and Pip do get out sometimes, and I do have really nice flowers, so I guess you can say both things are true. Usually, my roses are stunning: bright red, plentiful, and always nicely overgrown. This year, however, I am at war with my least favorite of all insects: the Japanese beetle.

I can remember being a little tot and my grandmother would outfit my brother and me with some old-fashioned equipment to go "beetle hunting" to "teach those dishere beetles a lesson". If you knew my gram or if she was your gram, too, then you distinctly remember her famous phrase, "dishere". She was pretty cool. Every summer, our job was to spend a few minutes a few times a day beetle-slaying. I loved this job. We would rid her roses, pussy willows, fruit trees and grapevines of these little beasts. Today, I am going to teach you how to do it. You need 3 things:

1: An empty can of vegetables, fruit cocktail or pork n' beans (or whatever)
2: Some gasoline
3: A keen eye for killing

Directions:
Carefully open can, leaving enough metal around the rim so the top doesn't completely come off. Eat contents of can (lest we be wasteful), rinse and let it dry.

Next, go to the garage (or wherever you keep your gasoline) and fill the can about 1/2 way.

Then, go to the nearest bush, tree, or vine, look for beetles and gently tap those hungry little bastards in the gasoline. They will attempt to swim, then curl into a little ball and croak...the way nature intended. Want to eat my roses down to the stem?! CHOKE ON THIS!

VICTORY IS MINE!

 (beetle on top and "too ambitious of a push into the can dead rosebud" on bottom)

You will find that within a few weeks, your flowers will start to look beautiful again. I still have a LONG way to go (Randy originally suggested getting a Japanese beetle trap...um, no) but they look better each day.

Reclaim your flowers, vegetables, grapes and other fruit!!! Kill those beetles Grandma T. style!!!

zzzzzzzzz...

Man, isn't this the truth? I've got this magnet on my fridge and I have to admit, it's one of my favorites. I feel like, as a society, we spend every minute of every day rushing to the finish line, only to sleep, wake up and do it all over again.
That's at least how I spend my days. And WOW, do I get tired by Friday night. How does my day play out? I'm so glad you asked. Let's start at the beginning:
4:45am: wake up and slam alarm to snooze one time
4:52am: slam alarm again...final time, I SWEAR!
5:00am: drag myself out of bed, telling myself that if I pee in my bed, I will have a wet, grumpy husband and a big mess to clean up.
5:01am: morning pee (ah...hey, you asked)
5:02am: get dressed for the gym
5:10am: grab clothes for the day and go downstairs
5:20am: make a speedy breakfast (eggs and oatmeal), get crap to car, fill water bottle, grab delicious breakfast, sneak the dogs a few cookies before I depart
5:25am: leave for the gym
5:45am: teach fitness class
6:30am: shower and get dressed for the day
7:10am: leave the gym and hit Dunkin Donuts, then drive 45 minutes to work
8:00am-3:30pm: work a full day...through lunch...so I can leave and be on time for my third job
3:30pm: drive an hour to the dance studio
4:30pm-6:45 or 7:30pm: teach dance classes
8:00pm (I am usually home, give or take 30 minutes)
8:05pm: complain to Randy how tired I am, crab all around the house and eat something; walk Milly and Pip
8:30pm: shower
8:45pm: get on matching pajamas and brush teeth, remove contacts and brush hair
9:00pm: lay out clothes for the NEXT day, pack a lunch, crab a little more, play with Milly and Pip
9:30pm: go downstairs and watch tv until promptly passing out on the couch
10:45pm-2:00am (somewhere in this time frame): migrate upstairs, crab about having a stiff neck from being ill-positioned on the couch, sleep until the alarm goes off

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Granted, every day isn't so "timely" but it's extremely close. I mean, you start your day off late and BAM! Screws your schedule up in a big kind of way.

Then comes Saturday. The day I magically morph into a college kid again...sleeping until noon, wallowing around in my pajamas until 2pm. Not the case for my ambitious and awesome husband, however. By noon, he has already walked Milly and Pip (twice), gone for a bike ride to the gym and back, made a dump run, cleaned the kitchen and probably graded papers or wrote a lecture (he is a professor or MATH). Then I feel bad because I am slack-tastic, and before I know it, it's Saturday night.

I am not really sure why I beat myself up like this...all I know is that I am grateful for a husband who is responsible for our furry babies so I can do all of these things. I am not bragging or complaining - just simply stating a fact. I am unsure how people with children do all these things. I would no doubt lose my mind or cry all the time or take an 18 year break at a nice nuthouse or something.

I guess I do it because I love it. I love my friends at the gym. They are great! We have such a character collection there, it makes it worth getting up in the morning. It's also nice to know that, when you drive almost 3 hours a day, you've already gotten your fitness on. Work-work is fine. I have good coworkers who work hard and are fun to be around. The population we serve is mostly great, but there are a few wild cards in the bunch. Every day is different and that is very important to me, someone who hates repetition (although, by looking at my day, you would call me a liar). Dance is my fun job. LOVE LOVE LOVE those little people!!!

And, after reading my schedule again to myself, I can only say that I wish I had a bed under my desk like George Costanza. But, since I don't, it is back to work for me.

The not-so-charmin bears

Are my friend, Christine, and I the only people in the world who think these bears are creepy and disgusting? Who has bits of tp all over their butts after they wipe? GROSS! I mean, I have seen some hairy butts in my day, but hairy enough to leave cottonball sized paper pieces? I think not.
I also hate the commercials they put out. "The Inspection Station" and "Mom using a pan and brush to scrape the toilet paper off the kid's butt"...ugh. Those are the worst! If you don't know what I am talking about, check it out here.
These bears are like people: they play sports, they read stories, they share laughs...why do they poop in groups? I feel as if they have gotten very worldly in a very short amount of time. Seriously, evolution takes millions of years, not a few rounds of horrible tv commercials. We go from pooping in the woods, to using toilets and driving cars? Not in my world...

Do these woodland creatures bother anyone else? What is your take on them? I would love to hear your thoughts!



Source:
Youtube (link to video in post)