Cuddie.

I made a friend this morning. Her name was Cuddie. We met by fate, as I almost ran her over with my car. =)

So I’m pulling into the parking lot of the rec, when I see this huge Golden Lab running out in front of my car. I carefully pull into a parking spot, get out of the car, and take a look around for her. To my dismay, I don’t see her, and go about gathering my water bottle and going in for my workout. A second later, I hear this bat out of hell come running towards me…I look to my left, and see this giant dog jump past me, into my car!

Ok…?

So, being the softy that I am, I get back into the car, turn it on, not wanting my guest to be cold. (It was about 15 degrees this morning). I take a look at her tags, and they tell me her name is Cuddie.

“Cuddie, sit still, I need the phone# off of your tags so I can call your Mom.” I plead with her.

Yeah, she knew what I was saying. This dog sat still while I called her “Mom.”

Mom: (very frantically, I might add) “Hello?”

Me: “Hi…I have your dog. We’re sitting in my car right now at the rec center on Finley.”

Mom: ”You do? Oh thank God. What kind of color is your car? Are you parked in front or back?”

Me: “It’s black…and I’m in the front lot. We’re just sitting here chilling, listening to Eric and Kathy.” (It’s a morning talk-show here in Chi-Town.)

Mom: ”Thank you so much…we’ll be right over.”

So, Miss Cuddie and I sat in the car and chatted for a few minutes. To be honest, she wasn’t much of a talker. She seemed to be having more fun jumping from the front seat to the back seat, and back again. She was a pretty cool chick though…in fact, we even had the same color hair.

A few minutes later, Cuddie’s Dad and pajama clad big sister came to pick her up. They were extremely appreciative of my actions…and thanked me numerous times. Cuddie flew out of my car when she saw them arrive, and jumped right into her own. In seconds, they were gone.

A little bit of kindness goes a long way. Miss Cuddie put smile a on my face for the day, as I’m sure I did for that family. It’s definitely the little things in life that make the most difference.

Thanks Cuddie.

I just don't get it.

Alright...I knew it was going to be a cold one this morning...so I was out of bed right at 6am, allowing myself a few extra mins to get my numerous layers put on, as well as clean the snow off of the car. I dressed, started up the ice-mobile, and was on my merry little way to the rec. I was so proud of myself...I left the house 3 minutes earlier, assuring a good treadmill. There's no way any of the old folks could possibly have arrived yet.

Wrong.

I pull into the parking lot (It's like a 5 min drive from my house to the rec) and huddled in front of the door were 4 of them.

Ok...please tell me this: If you were retired...had no job to go to, and other than the occasional early bird special, had generally nothing else going on with your day...would you ever, EVER go work out at 6 fucking thirty am? WHEN IT'S 10 DEGREES OUTSIDE?

I just don't understand these people. I mean, don't get me wrong...I totally admire their drive and determination...but please. Sleep in. Be crazy. Stay in bed till 7. I mean, what's the hurry? Really? Leave the good treadmills for those of us who really only have 30 mins or so to play around with, and who do still have to go to work.

I just don't get it.

And for the record, I DIDN'T get a good treadmill. I mean, I could have run ahead of them and beat them to the room..because I guarantee you, that's one group of people I could beat in a race. But, I have some tact (some)...and decided to be graceful about it.

Hmph. Old people. They're funny creatures.

Call me lazy copy and paste girl.

This is from a post I made yesterday (1.20) on BuddySlim. I guess it was quite a hit, so I figured I'd share the wealth with all of you. (To my knowledge, there is only one person that reads my blogs. I'll pretend I've got a real audience out there. Someday, perhaps. Anyhoo, without further ado. Is that how you spell that?)


Alright all of you non-believers, I dragged my ass out shopping Friday night (Lane Bryant and Target all in one night Kelly? You wild woman you. )…and I bought some Kool-Aid. (And not the cheap stuff, mind you. I bought the real thing.) I brought it home, and in anxious anticipation, made up a batch before I even put the rest of my groceries away.

Kool-Aid + Stevia = heavenly goodness.

Yup, it really does taste good…try it, you won’t be disappointed. As for the measurements, I just kept dumping it in until it tasted good…roughly 1/3c or so. Who knows…it always tastes different when you’re tasting it off of the wooden mixing spoon, ya know?
Now, back to my other visit from Friday….Lane Bryant.

Ok, I had a $50.00 gift card from Christmas…and had received a flyer advertising some great clearance sales, so I decided to make a visit after work.

Sigh.

Where do I begin with what’s wrong with this store?

Let me start with describing mine. The one I visit is in Oak Brook, IL. Oak Brook is a VERY rich town…full of old money…oh yeah, and home to one of America’s favorites: McDonalds Corporation is headquartered in Oak Brook, IL. (Right down the block from Lane Bryant. Coincidence? Hmmm…) So, my LB is filled with rich, fat women. (And me…I come from the other side of the tracks…sometimes they let my kind in there. Kidding.)

Alright folks, what the fuck is wrong with this store? I walked around that place for a good 25 minutes before I found something even REMOTELY attractive. I mean, seriously. Some of these hideous patterns and designs…it looks like somebod paid Omar the Tentmaker to design for the store. Ugh. I just don’t know where they get off thinking plus sized women would want to be seen in public in some of this crap. Now, I’m no fashionista, believe me. I’m currently sitting in a green t-shirt that says “Take me for a Ride,” and a red pair of sweatpants that have my old college logo on the butt. (It’s Sunday…I’m in my PJ’s…you all understand.) But I know better than to walk around with giant freaking Cargo pants, wedge shoes..and a paisley, houdstooth tie-dyed halter top that in all reality looks like somebody vomited on it. Please. Give me a t-shirt and jeans any day.

But the worst…

The worst of the worst…

THE UNDERWEAR BINS!!

Oh don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Those ever familiar tall, clear plastic octagon shaped bins filled with the leftover excrement of underwear that nobody in their right mind would ever dare pay full price for.

Those.

Being the cheap ass that I am, I dug through them…in hopes of finding something halfway decent and comfortable.

Ha, what in the name of Pete was I thinking?

I found this one black lacy number that had strings…hooks…buttons. I wasn’t sure if it was underwear, or some kind of medieval torture device.

And then…my favorite…

The red panties (lace…semi-cute) had a string and two giant ping-pong sized cotton balls hanging off the back. Now let me ask you this; where do you put said cotton balls if you actually decide to wear these under a pair of jeans, or something? Do you let them hang out the back, as if you had a tail? Or do you tuck them..you know…down yonder, and pray that the cotton doesn’t get in the way of anything important?

Maybe I come from a more simple time (I’m 26, I don’t.)…maybe I’m old fashioned or something…but I guess I’ll just never understand some of the things you’ll find in the underwear bins at LB. Or half of their inventory, to boot.

So what did I walk out of their with, you ask?

A plain black bra…a blue long sleeved t-shirt….a black tank top..

And 5 pairs of NORMAL underwear from the bin.

Nothing with a tail for me, thanks.

Zero.

As you can see, it's a whopping zero out today. Yeah, zero degrees. God I love winter. And Chicago. And, I'm the queen of Cynicism. =)

But alas, I found myself eating cookies at 2am. With milk. At least it was skim! (Ha....way to rationalize Kelly.) 2 more days and this non-smoking this will be a habit...and perhaps my insatiable appetite will take a much needed hiatus for a while. We shall see.

So, I'm off to the gym. Oh believe me, I was much more content laying on the couch watching television...but I was inspired. I was watchign that new show on Lifetime, "How to look good naked," and for whatever reason, the girl on there made me want to get up and go workout. I guess I figured it like this...even if I tried to accept my body as is, I'm NOWHERE even remotely close to looking like the "average" American woman...at 160lbs, and a size 14. Nowhere. If I could get there....I'd flaunt it. But as of today, I was a whopping 267.6....yikes, I know....and feeling snug in my 18/20's. So, off to the gym I go. And I'm wearing 2 shirts, a hoodie, my coat, and 2 pairs of pants.

Did I mention that I love Chicago in the Winter?

My first Post

I'm angry that Tahoma isn't one of the font choices listed. Damn.

Great way to start off my first post, isn't it? Anyhoo, here I am, no a totally new site. I've always wanted to have a blog that allows me to post pics...but not pay for it. One of my BuddySlim gals posted her link today, and I totally fell in love with the site, so here I am. I will miss my beloved days with LiveJournal...but alas, we've moved on to bigger and better things.

No pun intended. =)

Why the picture of the orange peel on the plate, you ask? Well, that was my afternoon snack...and I wanted to test and see how well these pictures worked on this site. I approve. (I took that pic with my phone...it's not the best quality, but hey, I don't generally keep a great deal of equipment with me at work, ya know?) And yes, I cut my oranges with a knife. I loathe "orange peel under the nails" syndrome, and try to avoid it at all costs.

So, I've had the weird headache for the past 3 days...it's worse in the morning, and seems to get a little better throughout the course of the day. It's odd though...it feels like a tingly sensation through the top of my skull...and it seems to travel through my forehead, and the back of my head.

It's a brain tumor, I'm convinced.

I'm not kidding, either. However, I'm tired of going to the doc for every little thing. People must think I'm the WORLDS biggest hypochondriac. But I'm not...really. I don't know if it's my mind making me feel like shit all the time, but something is. Rarely does a day go by that I don't feel like major crap.

It's ridiculous.

But, I'll wait this one out.

Unless you know of anybody giving out free MRI's?