Okay, first of all, it snowed twice this week.  I thought I lived in Texas, but apparently, we’ve switched places with Minnesota.  Snow in March in Texas?  Unheard of.  Luckily it melts by early morning so nobody has to deal with us being bigger idiots on the road than usual.  I swear, they should make it illegal to drive here unless the skies are cloud free.  We are bad drivers.  It was even worse when I lived in Houston.  It rains all the time there, and yet, whenever it rains, nobody will touch the accelerator.  It’s like they’re all stopping to gawk at the raindrop.  Like they didn’t see eleventy billion of them the day before.

Monday night, M-F and I had dinner from this Italian place close to where I live.  It was snowing, so we had it delivered.  I think it’s ironic that people order in when the weather is bad – it’s like, I don’t want to die, but I’ll let the delivery guy risk life and limb on the little one lane each way, winding, potholey blacktop farm road.  I ordered Chicken Marsala.  There’s no milk or cream sauce or anything in it that should make my lactose-intolerant self sick.  The chicken was definitely cooked through and hot when I ate it.  And yet … a little while after I ate it, I started feeling sick.  Then my forehead got all clammy.  Then I got super-quiet which only happens if I’m afraid I’ll open my mouth and instead of words, puke will come out.  Then I knew for sure I was going to puke, and I ran for the bathroom downstairs.  Oh no!  M-F was in there!!!  Shit!  So I ran up the stairs, dog following, and started throwing up in my mouth about halfway up.  I got to the guest bathroom and barely made it to the toilet to unleash the vom.  Meanwhile, Magnus was hanging his head into the toilet just checking out what I had created.  I’m like, “Magnus, no!  Don’t eat that!” and then another wave of barf would come.  A word to the wise:  Unless your mouth is full of throw-up and you cannot speak, tell your dog to wait outside the bathroom.  They just don’t need to be in there.  Anyway, when I was done, I felt freaking awesome, like better than normal.  It was the weirdest thing.  My sister randomly barfs, not me.  So once again, we have to start the non-pukeage streak over.  I swear I don’t normally throw up three times in one year.

That’s pretty much all the non-drama for the week.  Oh, we never made it to the aquarium on Tuesday.  We stayed in bed for too long and then ate at the Waffle House which is totally gross but so yummy.  I insist on calling it “Der Waffle Haus” like in “Dead Like Me”.  I miss that show, but dude, whenever they ate, it made me so hungry and I wanted their food.  When I die, I’d like to be a reaper so I can have their metabolism.  Check that – assuming that the show is right about how it works, then I’d like to be a reaper.  Otherwise, forget it.  Anyway, their coffee was surprisingly good.  It kind of makes you rethink the $4 latte.


So I was at the liquor store today buying alcohol for my coaches, and I almost rear-ended someone while I was backing out of my spot.  In my defense, they came totally out of nowhere and were going really fast (Hello, Fuckers!  It’s a parking lot!).  All I could think was just how bad that would look to have a wreck in a liquor store parking lot with a trunk full of booze.  Sure, Occifir, it’s all unopened.  I haven’t been drinking at all today.  Yet.  Egads!  Just kidding about the “yet” – I’m still on restriction for my recent excesses.

D leaves on Saturday, which leaves me coachless for three weeks.  I need to call J and see if he’ll fill in.  The point is, I have to get D’s presents all ready tonight so I can give them to him tomorrow.  He’s getting Grey Goose vodka, Tanqueray gin, cookies, and a couple of silly little things like these mints that we go through like crack whores during practice.  Well, you’re right in each other’s faces.  It’s like people in Hollywood with their Altoids.  I did all the baking earlier, so now my kitchen looks like a bakery exploded in it.  Damn, and it was clean this morning!  Oh well, he likes my cookies, so there you go.  He also likes alcohol, and if my gifties are any clue, I clearly want to get my coach fat and very drunk.  Nice!

My man-friend had to cancel tonight.  He’s sick.  I’m a little bummed, but I’ve been a raving hormonal bitch all day, so it’s probably best this way.  He doesn’t need to see ALL the crazy.

I was insane for three reasons – one is obviously hormones.  I fucking hate Seasonale.  You’re fine for two months, but then the third, right before you’re supposed to start, you end up spotting for like ten days beforehand.  It sucks ass like a mofo. 

Secondly, my mom pissed me off.  She asked me to go to this craft fair today, and I was way too freaking busy (so busy that I didn’t even get to skate today), but she got all offended.  She does that.  Then she tries to guilt you.  I was like, “Uh-uh, no way are you going to make me feel guilty, lady.  You gave me an emotionally fucked childhood with a void where my mother was supposed to be.  You aren’t allowed to make me feel bad.”  I didn’t say that, of course.  The repercussions would not have been worth it at all.  Not even a little bit. 

Third, my sister got pissed at me because when I was on the phone with her, I mentioned my pants were falling off.  It was an accident – I bent down, and when I got back up, my jeans failed to come with me.  She was like, “I wish my worst problem was that my pants were too big!”  Uh, okay … not sure what to do with that.  I mean, I make a choice to try and stay as small as I can without giving up my candy (don’t even think about asking me to give up candy and, no, I do not share candy even with my kid), plus with the skating, I have to try to stay thin.  So really, it’s not my fault.  I just now know not to ever say anything to do with my weight around her.  Oops, my bad.  Plus, is that really my worst problem?  Oh, not by a long shot.  That said, she’s got some bad ones, but it’s not a competition!

The last thing that really fucked with my day was that the Starbucks people were out of soy milk.  I’m lactose intolerant, but went with a non-fat anyway.  Oh, bad mistake.  Poor bathroom, it’ll never be the same.  So gross!  My stomach is still making grumbly sounds.  I call it “Built-in Bulimia” when I eat ice cream.  It’s all just coming right back out, but it’s really unpleasant.

Yesterday I felt so crappy at the rink that JoAnne said, “Sometimes you just have to give in and admit you’re sick and take the day off.”  Fine, so here I am, at home, in my bathrobe, drinking shitty homemade coffee.  I want my Starbucks.

She’s right though.  I would’ve either accomplished nothing other than proving I can show up, and everyone already knows I can do that, or I would’ve hurt myself.  I kept getting dizzy yesterday, and let me tell you, skating plus dizzy equals oh fuck.  That’s not a good situation.

So what is making me sick?  I don’t know.  In general, I just feel cruddy.  My nose is pretty snotty, but that’s not unusual considering my year-round allergies.  My head has kind-of hurt for three days.  It’s not bad, it’s just there.  Mostly I just feel lethargic and foggy, more like I’m trying to fight something from getting to me than like I actually have something.

Okay, enough complaining.  I’ve figured out my dog’s tricks.  He rings the bell if he really has to go to the bathroom.  He cries at the door if he wants to go play in the mud.  Haha sucka, you’ve been found out!  No more will I respond to the plea for mud-play.

Here’s a question for the universe.  If there are yellow Labs and black Labs, why are there not brown Labs?  Why are they called Chocolate Labs instead?

This weekend, I have to go to a branch meeting for Longaberger consultants.  It’s at my aunt’s house, so I feel like I have to go.  They’ll have food though, and I think we’re all aware that if there’s food, I’m there.  This one guy that I worked with in college used to marvel at my eating skills.  He used to say that we should just line me up under a conveyor belt with my mouth wide open (and I do have a big mouth) and just let the food fall right in.  I think I said something like, “Sweeeeeet.”  Now I marvel at my former eating skills.  I used to eat a lot!  I can’t eat quite as much anymore.  Sad!  I especially can’t eat so much if I ever want to weigh next to nothing like real ice dancers.

On Sunday, Munchkin and I are going to brunch and then to the Trains at North Park.  I tried to find some good pictures to show, but there aren’t any that really do it justice.  It’s amazing.  They have all these miniature Lionel trains set up with the most elaborate scenery.  I just love it.  So we’ll do that and then go on walkabout through the mall.  My other favorite place at North Park is the Mermaid Cafe in Neiman Marcus.  It’s yum and surprisingly reasonably priced.  They don’t have brunch though, so we’ll probably go to Le Peep.  The only problem with Le Peep is that it’s on the opposite side of town from North Park.  Maybe we’ll go to La Madeleine instead.  It’s actually in the mall.  I’ll have to check with the Munchkin though.  He’s obsessed with all things French, but considering he won’t eat anything remotely adventurous, he may not want to try it.

Ooo, the dog just cried at the door.  I’m not falling for it!

So D is leaving town for Thanksgiving on Saturday, leaving me coachless for the two days available for skating next week.  I’ve got J lined up for Monday, but he has school on Tuesday.  I’m thinking of trying to get Brent for Tuesday.  He was on our softball team too, but came late in the season.  He had to retire from skating because he kept breaking his ankle.  Well, sort of.  That’s like half the story.  He thought he was going to go back, but while he was out with his broken ankle, his former partner went out and found a new partner, a Russian guy who will also remain unnamed.  She didn’t even talk to Brent about it.  Bitch.  That’s just fucking wrong.  Anyway, she ran off with the Russian, and the next thing you know, he’s dumping her.  Ah, karma.  They were together for so short of a time that you can’t even google them and get a site with them together.  You get a bunch with her and Brent though.  And this is why we call it “The Days of our Rink”.  Stupid, yes.  But true. 

No, not a sado-masochist, just a garden-variety self-abuser.  I woke up at four in the morning with a horrible stomach ache.  I mean, I thought I might throw up, and I never barf.  Never!  I went back to sleep about an hour later, managing not to puke, yay, and finally rolled my old bones out of bed at 9:30 which is like soooooo late for me.  My stomach still hurts, but I’m watching the Food Network.  What is wrong with me?  Nigella is making something which involves white chocolate and whipped cream which are two of the things I ate yesterday, and two of the main culprits I hold responsible for my tummy ache.  I went to a baby shower that my mom was hosting, so I kind of had to eat the food.  She would’ve taken it personally if I hadn’t because that’s just the way she is.  Everything was delicious, but it was all creamy and rich and … ouch.

Well now Nigella’s got something going on with salmon topped pancakes (uh, yuck).  What happened to the chocolate and cream?  Where’d that go?  Apparently you have to pay attention to these shows.  They move fast.  Giada de Laurentis’s show is next.  I like that one, but I love Italian food, so there’s no surprise.  I heard she’s pregnant.  I think I was watching TMZ or something when I heard that.  There’s a show that’ll make you feel dirty.

I kind of feel sorry for celebrities sometimes.  I’d hate to be subjected to the level of scrutiny that they are.  Honestly, how they make it through an ordinary day with people following them around snapping photos, I don’t know.  I think I’d have to hire people to go shopping for me, or else I’d do it all on the internet.  I’m too shy to be a celebrity anyway.

Ah, I found the chocolate – it went into a white chocolate peppermint dessert thingee for Nigella’s party.  It had nothing to do with those weird salmon pancakes.  Sorry, that was random.

I finally gave in and ordered Christmas stockings on Friday.  I was going to make them – I have one that’s about 70% finished, but it’s impossible to work on it with the dog.  It was mostly made (like 69% finished) before I got the dog because he gets all up in the middle of everything I do.  For instance, right now, he’s standing on the couch with his face down in front of my monitor.  When I’m trying to needlepoint, in addition to having his face slobbering all over my project, he tries to eat the thread.  I think he’s part cat.  I wonder if he’ll ever outgrow this need to be involved in everything I do?  It drives me batshit loco.  He even follows me into the bathroom.  Eeewww!

Now I’m hungry.  Urgh!  I wish I had the stuff to make the salad that Giada’s making.  That looks good.  And there’s no lettuce in it, so it’s awesome!  It was cherry tomatoes, cucumber, cornbread, basil, lemon zest, olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.  Oh, and Fontina cheese.  Easy enough.  Even I could make that, and I don’t eat food that doesn’t come straight out of a package.

One last thing and then I’m going to shut up and eat some oatmeal – I went to Starbucks yesterday, and I tried the sugar-free syrup Gingerbread Latte (also it was soy, no whip).  Gross.  I added two Splendas to it, and it was still nasty.  Never again!  I don’t know if it would be good with sugar syrup.  I’m going to make coffee at home today.  I have no intention of leaving this house until tomorrow!

Or perhaps I just became a Longaberger home consultant.  Yep, either way, I drank the Kool-Aid.  God help me.  I’m also an Arbonne consultant, and I imagine that the Longaberger thing will work the same way – my customers will be me, my mom, and my sister.  Why branch out and actually try to make any money?  Personally, I like to come in last in all sales, goals, etc.  That way, some woman who really does give a shit but who sucks ass at sales can come in second to last.  That’ll make her day.  See what I do for people?  Surely this will get me into heaven (assuming I’m forgiven for conspicuous consumption of baskets and eye cream).

We had our Fakesgiving this weekend (lots of people thought I was Canadian when I told them about our early Thanksgiving, but no, I am not – theirs was a week earlier).  It was actually lots of fun.  The food was beyond awesome. 

Besides stuffing myself silly, I got to go to two parties.  One was Friday night, and was at my sister’s house.  It was Game Night with Jason’s friends.  I played this game on the PS3 which involved being an amoeba and eating stuff.  It was very relaxing.  The second party was the Halloween party which we dressed up as geishas for.  I have pictures but haven’t put them on the computer yet.  Actually, I haven’t loaded the software on the computer, and I can’t do it on my laptop because it doesn’t have a disk reader thingee.  So I’ll have to do it on the upstairs computer, and that’ll take motivation.  I have none at the moment, so eh, maybe tomorrow.

The people who had the Halloween party (I’ll call them Jim and Andrea) were really into Halloween.  There wasn’t a surface in their house untouched by a decoration.  They also made a haunted house in their garage.  After many arguments, I finally got Kim to agree to go in it with me.  Andrea told us, “You don’t control the flashlight.  It controls you.”  I had no idea what she meant until we got in there and our light would randomly shut off.  We’d keep walking, the light would turn back on, and we’d be surrounded by heads hanging from the ceiling (or arms or what looked like police batons.  I’m not sure what the fear factor is there, unless you happen to be like me and have an irrational fear of cops taking you to prison where you won’t have access to tweezers.  Unacceptable!)  We laughed and laughed through the whole thing.  Well, it was more like we’d scream, then laugh, then scream, then laugh again.  By the time we went through, we’d also met most of the people at the party so we knew who it was jumping out at us.  That kept the freaking out to a minimum.

Anyway, Andrea the hostess was really nice but also very odd.  She took me and Kim into her office and showed us all these pictures of herself when she was younger and 50 pounds lighter.  Kim said that Andrea always does this.  She gets drunk, and then it’s like “Glory Days”.  The pictures were beautiful though.  She could’ve been a pin-up girl in the forties.  She had that kind of face and figure.  I also saw a picture of Andrea’s mother who apparently was a Bond girl back in the day, but I can’t figure out who she was.  I only saw one picture of her and it was dark, but I gotta say, she was stunning.  Kim also said that Andrea doesn’t like going to other people’s houses.  She’ll have all the parties in the world at her own house, but if she has to go to someone else’s house, she won’t talk.  At all, which was shocking to me because she talked ninety to nothin’ at her own party.  She went up to the guest room at Kim’s house and slept during one of my sister’s parties.  I was like, “Why go then?”  I mean, if you don’t want to go, and you’re going to pull a dumbass stunt like that, then just don’t go.  I asked Kim if Andrea felt bad that night or something, and she was like, “No, that’s just what she does.  She’s weird.”

I managed not to gain any weight over the weekend.  I’m not sure how, but yay.  Today I discovered a new drink at Starbucks.  It’s just a regular ol’ Caffe Latte (soy, of course), but it saves me 80 calories of flavored syrup.  It’s not bad at all.  I put a couple of Splenda packets in it after I tried it, but I could’ve had it without.  I was just in the mood for something sweet.  What I’d really like is some candy corn, but that’s not gonna happen.  There’s not any in the house, and I’m not going out!

Okay, it’s laundry time.  Maybe I’ll install that software while I’m up there.  We’ll see!

See what happens when my real coach goes out of town?  I stay home under the guise of I have to clean my house as it is nearing uninhabitable.  I have actually been cleaning though.  Just taking a coffee break now.  The coffee is Gevalia’s breakfast blend with two Splenda packets and sugar-free caramel syrup from Target.  Yum, and zero calories!

While D is out of town, J is overtaking my coaching.  I was a little wary at first.  It’s weird dancing with a new person because of size and style differences.  Plus when you’ve been dancing with the same person the whole entire time you’ve been skating, I think you end up with a little bit of a trust issue.  Will J drop me on my head?  You know, that kind of thing.  It was a little rough yesterday.  When it starts out, “Hey, I haven’t partnered anyone in two years, and I can’t remember the Swing Dance,” you know you’re in trouble.  I ran him through it with him skating along behind me a couple of times, and then we went through the transitions.  Then we went for it.  After a few icky trials, we got it going towards the end of the session.  Nobody fell at least!  He has a lighter touch than D, meaning that D takes much more aggressive lines and edges.  I like the aggression, but USFS doesn’t expect that much at this level.  J’s way would get me through just fine.  D’s way will get me really nice notes on my test papers, plus it’ll help with later dances.

We didn’t run through ChaCha.  The last time I did the ChaCha with a different partner (Brandon saw me soloing it and came by to run through it with me – I love these guys, they’re just awesome!), I got this: “Shit!  D’s turning you into an East Coaster!”  It’s just a style difference, but I think J and Brandon do it the same way, which means I’m going to have to get J to do it D’s way so it’s not all fucked up when D gets home.

My dog has the runs today.  I gave him a rawhide stick last night when he got hold of a bag of treats (it was a trade, not a reward!).  Normally he gets one stick a week, and this was his first.  He doesn’t normally get the poos from them, but the vet said sometimes they do.  I feel sorry for him!  We went on a walk this morning, and he was fine during that, but as soon as we got home, it started.  The walk was pretty good – he barked at kids on the daycare playground, but just little barks.  He normally goes batshit loco at kids smaller than Munchkin.  He did his big boy bark at a couple of guys that were out and about.  One of them went, “I’m gonna go this way.  I like my arms and legs attached.”  I guess a 67 pound seven-month old Lab puppy with a deep bark is kind of intimidating.  I know that he’s really sweet, but I can see where other people might freak.  He had his hackles up, but it was the kind that go all the way down his back, which means he’s just on alert.  When their hackles are only up on their necks, it means they’re guarding or getting ready to get aggressive.  Watch out for that, yikes! 

This is what I wonder about half the time I go to Starbucks.  I’m lactose intolerant, so it’s really important that I don’t get normal milk.  The repercussions are just too ugly.  I’m pretty sure I paid the forty cents extra and got screwed today.  Poor tummy! 

I finally learned to twizzle today.  Oh, they are bad right now, and I’m only doing a right inside single twizzle.  It shouldn’t be that hard, but my ballet self goes, “Oh, we’re turning.  Better turn that leg out.”  No.  No, I should not do that.  You have to keep your knee out front like a jazz turn or else you pull yourself off your axis.  I did a few of them right, but then I freaked out and didn’t end the turn correctly.  That’s fine – I doubt anyone has ever learned to twizzle perfectly in one day.  We also worked on spirals and Ina Bauers.  It was a pretty decent first day back after I took a bit more time off.  The only thing that was bad was in ballet.  It was decided for me that I’m not allowed to jump yet.  That’s fine – it was hurting too much.

Our rink is closed next week because they’re redoing both sheets of ice.  Everyone is going to Frisco instead, but I’m not.  They only have one sheet of ice and no dance sessions.  It’s going to be extremely crowded because they’ll have all the Frisco people plus all of us.  So I said forget it.  My coach said that was good and to rest my ankle.  I’m about sick of resting it, but ballet today proved it’s not healed.  So I’ll behave.  Urgh!

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