Quest for the Holy Grail

Did you know that they melted down the Holy Grail and made it into a bike? I know this because I went on a personal quest for it today.

(Holding coconuts) Clop, clop, clop.*

About a month ago, my BF went to a sports store in Seattle that is going out of business and was having a huge sale. His mission: a new bike. While I was at this sports store, I found a girls bike leaning in the corner, and I sat on it to ride it around the store. Mostly out of boredom. I’ve had a trusty mountain bike that I got for Christmas in 10th grade, and I never felt the need to upgrade since I’m not an avid rider. Except I fell in love with this bike during the two loops that I made around the store. It had handle bars that perfectly curved back for women’s smaller arms. The seat was on a suspension system that would gently sit back every time you moved or went over a bump. (Which I later found is patented to K2). AND, it was cute and girly with flowers on the frame. I wanted it bad. The price tag, however, wasn’t something I was prepared for. So, I sadly left the bike at the store.

In the next month, all I could think about was the bike. I told everyone I knew about it. I pictured how DIFFERENT my life would be – “If I had this bike, I’d ride it everywhere, and I’d get totally skinny and HOT,” I’d say inside my head. “I’ll start riding my bike to work! I won’t eat Taco Bell at 2 a.m. or make Belgium waffles so I can dip them in cream cheese frosting anymore!” (Someone please throw out the tub of frosting that is still sitting in my fridge from my BF’s birthday cake. Please). I went to the Web site and drooled at it – I read reviews and decided that I MUST have this bike.

Yesterday I found it on Amazon.com for nearly half the price. I decided it was going to be mine. But when went to make the purchase today, I realized the only size they had was meant for girls 5’9’’ and above. Let me tell you, that’s not me. I do not originate from The Amazon. My heart sank. I startled Googling for the bike, but I couldn’t find the size and model I needed anywhere for sale in ALL of the Internet universe. WTF?

K2 listed REI as their only retail provider, but REI’s site didn’t have the bikes. I was getting a little nervous. I decided to call all the REIs in the state of Washington, desperate for one last in-store model. Store 1, none. Store 2, none. Store 3, not the model I wanted. Store 4, not the model I wanted. Store 5 was all too kind to tell me that K2 is discontinuing their bikes, and pretty much “you don’t have a chance in hell in finding it.”

I started to panic. Finally, one store searched their inventory lists and told me they had one in the size I needed in Oregon, one in New Jersey and one a size larger at a local store.

I started to feel a bit jittery and nervous as I dialed the number to the local store. I’d make the size a little bit larger work! I’d where platform sandals every time I rode it! I HAD.TO.HAVE this bike!

“Ohhhh. I think we just sold that this morning,” the guy in the local REI’s bike department told me.

F*&#!

I had most definitely fallen in love with the Holy Grail of bicycles.

I made the one last phone call to the REI in Oregon for the bike. This was my only chance at true bike love. Otherwise, I was destined to be bitter and trip all the girls I ever see who were lucky enough to buy this bike before it turned into the Holy Grail. The store in Oregon hadn’t sold theirs yet AND it was the color I wanted (something I was going to budge on, but I wanted the pink one over the red, obvs.)

VICTORY! VICTORY!

This sweet little number is going to be on her way to me this week:

I can’t wait! I better go finish the tub of frosting before she gets here…

*If you got that reference. You rock. If you didn’t, you must go watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail immediately.

Currently Feeling: Stressed out about this project I have to launch next Wednesday at work. I can’t seem to focus, and it’s not done. Grr.
Currently Anticipating: Happy hour and a night out tonight, hanging out with a long lost girl friend tomorrow night and the Seattle Cheese Festival on Sunday at Pike Place Market!
Currently Loving: That it’s going to be in the 70s this weekend! Hello sunshine! I think I’m in love with you.

The Tale of Two Non-Virgins Who Can’t Perform at the Pool

Last night I took a trip to the public pool. Or la piscine (piss-seen), as one would say in French, which I think is much more fitting than “swimming pool.” After all, a public pool is probably very a la piscine from all the kids. Cause really, as a kid, we all know we were warned and reprimanded 100x about peeing in the pool, but we did it anyway, holding our breath to see if the water really would change another color from the “special chemical.” And it didn’t. This therefore just warranted a cycle of peeing in the pool very discreetly instead of getting out of the water, freezing cold, for a trip to the bathroom. (I might or might not have just admitted that I used to pee in the pool).

This is what I think about now that I’m an adult and swim in common areas with children, such as lakes, docks and pools.

But, it still didn’t stop me from brushing those thoughts aside for a Monday-night trip to the pool and community center in my neighborhood. A little pee never hurt anyone! (Gross. I can’t believe I just typed that).

Baby Daddy and I threw the good ole suits on and paid our $4 fee, entering our respective locker rooms. I haven’t been to a community pool since I believe I was in 5th grade. As a child who took swim lessons and attended a number of pool dates with the neighbor kids, it was all very familiar to me – the lockers with keys that you pin to your suit, inevitably leaving a hole in your swimsuit; the cold cement floors with clumps of other people’s hair; the freezing cold shower you’re supposed to take before jumping in the pool; the sting as the smell of chlorine hits your nostrils; the scratchy pool lining that snags the bottom of your suit; the echo of little kids shouting and run-walking down the sides of the pool to the diving board; and the dum, dum thump of the diving board as one swimmer jumps off before the next one walks to the end.

I was hoping for a hot tub, but no such luck. There was a sauna that we spent 15 minutes in before I felt like my face was going to melt off while I simultaneously hyperventilated. (Am I the only one who things these are bearable, at best, and totally uncomfortable to sit in with other people?) So then we jumped into the pool for a bit, and I grabbed a noodle to float on. I figured I’d do a little kicking, doggy paddling and seeing how long I could stand on my hands under water, and count it as my work out for the day. Except just as we got in, a very official pool man started putting up signs that dictated speeds and others began rolling out the plastic floating lines. Dammit – lap swim.

Baby Daddy and I got out and sat on the bleachers and watched the swimmers crowd their chosen lanes.

Me: Well, crap. Do you want to do lap swim?
Him: I don’t care. Whatever you want; I’d be just okay with leaving.
Me: But, we’ve only been here for 20 minutes. I’d be a little embarrassed to walk out passed the lady we paid $4 to at the front desk. We could just get in a kick around a little bit.
Him: Yeah.
Me: I mean, look at that dude, he’s got a kickboard. We couldn’t look any stupider than that.
Him: I wouldn’t use a kickboard. No way. Look at that guy, he’d probably go somewhere a lot quicker if he weren’t slapping the water with every stroke.
Me: He’s old. Cut ‘em some slack. Besides, we don’t know that we’d look too much better. That’s the problem – I have no idea what I look like when I swim.
Him: Me either.
Me: Everyone’s got a cap on. I don’t want to wear a cap.
Him: And goggles.
Me: Crap. We’re total public-pool amateurs.
Him: Yeah. And now it’s probably too late to get in. We’ve sat here too long, staring at everyone.
Me: I can’t believe we just paid $4 to sit in a sauna for 15 minutes and watch people swim for 20.
Him: I’d be down if it weren’t lap swim – there’s too much pressure to perform.
Me: Yeah, we’re pool shy.*

Ba boom, CCHHHINGG.**

*I was referring to definition #2.
** That’s supposed to be my drum and symbol sound they always make after jokes.

Currently Feeling: In need of some serious workouts this week – the last three-week push until Mexico!
Currently Anticipating: Home sweet home. This daylight savings time transition is rough.
Currently Loving: Chocolate protein shakes with milk, NOT water.

I did it, I said FART on my blog

I’ve recently been attending a yoga class at my gym on Monday nights. I’ve always wanted to do yoga, but have never found the time or money for it. This week I finally unwrapped the pink yoga mat I purchased approximately eight months ago that’s been in my car, if that tells you anything. I think the increase in stress and anxiety in my life led me searching for someway to relieve it – and I’ve always heard yoga does the trick. So I signed myself up.

So far, it’s been really great. I love the special yoga room at my gym that has equipment to borrow, like blocks and straps, so I don’t have to buy them, and the giant windows gently let downtown Seattle twilight the room. I love that the yoga teacher plays relaxing music – but not just “ding, ding, ding” and babbling brooks – a couple weeks ago she busted out “Us and Them” by Pink Floyd. (A personal favorite).

But really, I have a dilemma with this whole yoga thing. I seriously only concentrate on not-farting the whole time I’m there. Yes, I know it. I just said FART on my blog. Gross. But, “girls give off just as much methane gas from farting as men” or something, which is what my boyfriend told me once to ease my embarrassment about farting myself awake while lying asleep in his lap on the couch. (Yes. He was awake; so mortifying). The problem with the girls farting vs. guys farting thing – even if we’re on level playing fields there – is that guys get away with it. They don’t care; they don’t give excuses, and they certainly don’t get embarrassed. But us girls, oh no – we’d rather die a slow and terrible death – or kill someone – than fart out loud in public or, for most of us, around a boyfriend. (I will never be okay with opening doing this with a boyfriend, and for those of you who think it’s a part of being comfortable with someone, I will argue you to the death).

So the whole 75 minute class, I’m thinking about how freaking.embarrassing it’d be to fart. But yoga forces you to bend and contort your body, often times holding and squeezing muscles with your butt high in the air. There’s times when it’s all I can do to prevent a slip. It’s stressing me out! I tell yeah, I join yoga to ease my mind from the stresses of life, and I spend the whole time stressing about farting. I need a stress-reliever from yoga. Or from farting.

Namaste.

Currently Feeling: Super relieved to have Mexico figured out.
Currently Anticipating: A crock pot dinner tonight with Bestie Amanda.
Currently Loving: Soy crisps with Laughing Cow cheese.

Two Tickets to the Butt Show

Last night I went to the buttlet. I mean ballet.

A friend of mine called because she had two tickets to George Balanchine’s “Jewels” at McCaw Hall and wanted to invite me last minute. “Why not?” I thought. I’d never been to a ballet before (outside of The Nutcracker, which is more of a play with a lot of child dancers), and figured it be good to check it off my list. We hit up happy hour on Queen Anne, downed a couple glasses of wine and walked down to McCaw Hall, where we took our seats, only 16 rows back from the stage, right before the curtain rose. I quickly flipped through the program. “Jewels” is apparently a classic ballet and George Balanchine a famous composer, which I didn’t know. All I could focus on was that it was plotless (just dancing to classical music without a storyline) for nearly three hours. Uh, oh. What did I get myself into?

As the ballerinas tinkled out of the side curtains – so did the ballemen. Is that what they’re called? Well, either way – I was NOT prepared. No way, no how. Those guys are seriously not wearing more than what looks like white paint on their legs, buttocks and package. Imagine if I left the house this morning with nothing on but a top and sheer pantyhose. It is SO distracting. You can see every muscle and dimple in their butts, which are like Jenny from the Block size, as they turn and twist and prance across the stage. I’d compare it to soft porn.

Here’s my night at the ballet in a nutshell:

Pretty green ballerinas dance out, following by ballemen in white pants and poofy sleeves. Oh look at how they sway their butts arms. Tinkle, tinkle. Sway, sway. LOOK AT HIS ASS. Tip-toe, twirl. HOLY SHIT; IT’S HUGE. Curtain.

Intermission: We guzzle a glass of white wine.

Ooh. Red and gold. Out come the ballemen again in white pants and puffy sleeves. Sassy jazz music. I like this butt dance better. OH MY GOD HE JUST BENT OVER. Tip-toe, arabesque, dance, swish-sway, big smile. Wow. The primo ballerina is amazing. I SAW A DIMPLE! I SAW A DIMPLE! Curtain.

Intermission: We guzzle a glass of white wine.

Sparkles bedazzled everywhere and pretty tulle tutus – and here they come again in white pants and puffy sleeves. Oh, five ballemen at once. I don’t know what to do with myself. FIVE BUTTS, FIVE BUTTS, CENSORY OVERLOAD. Ooh they’re so strong and big. Yeah baby. LOOK AT THEIR EYES, LOOK AT THEIR EYES. Butt. Curtain.

All in all, baby got back. Er, I mean I’d definitely go back.

Currently Feeling: So sleepy. I want to take a nap like right meow.
Currently Anticipating: Seeing my BF tomorrow when he flies home from Montucky!
Currently Loving: SparkPeople.com

In which I relent on hating hippies, just a bit

Last night I finally tried out this Nia fitness class at my gym. I recently grabbed a calendar of classes, scowering for a few fun ones I could hit after the 5 o’clock chime rang at work. The description for the class read,

“Bring total well-being to your lifestyle through Nia, a unique workout that empowers physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health by blending dance, martial and healing arts to creatively move “your body’s way.”

So, I Googled it to wrap my head around the concept a little more, and found a Web site that explained that Nia is a combination of martial arts (T’ai Chi, Tae Kwon Do, Aikido), dance (Jazz, Modern and Duncan) and healing arts (Yoga, Feldenkrais method and Alexander technique), and Nia stands for neuromuscular integrative action.

It all sounded very hippie to me… I was reminded of the Sex and the City episode when Carrie and Miranda take the fitness class with scarves…and although I’ve previously stated that I dislike hippies, I decided to give it a try.

True to my preconceived ideas, the class was Earth-loving, good thoughts, auras and chakras. But it was also totally awesome. The music was upbeat and modern, and we were supposed to wave our arms, stretch or reach to the side in the “movement right for your body.” It was a lot of freeform, dancing around the floor, “reaching to the sky and pounding the Earth,” mixed in with some true martial arts kicks, punches and loud grunts. It was totally hilarious, and I tried to ignore the people, walking by the glass walls of the classroom. I don’t know if I would have been able to truly let go and follow along with the class if I’d been with someone I knew. But I gave it my all. I grunted, and flung my arms, and twirled around like a butterfly, and kicked and punched the air (while picturing my frustrations).

Afterward, when the lights were out, and we were sending out our good thoughts into the World, loving the whooollle human race and pushing all the bad thoughts out of our head, I thought, “I’m totally coming next week.”

Currently Feeling: Restless for the weekend.
Currently Anticipating: Staying in tonight with my BF, a bottle of wine and some cheesecake.
Currently Excited For: Larisa and Dave, who finally set a date!

Swimming, It Does a Body Good

Last night I went for a quick dip after work at Madison Park–my favorite swimming destination in all of Seattle.

There is something so summer about swimming in the twilight hours; it’s a feeling I crave all year long.

The pebbles and sand between your toes…sucking in your breath as the lake water inches up your thighs toward your tummy…shade from the trees casting shadows over the water as you frantically try to paddle toward the patches of warm, evening summer sun that you dry yourself in later…goosebumps breaking out over your arms and legs as you wrap a towel tightly around your shoulders…and the sleep that envelops your tired body after a night in the water.

I wish I could grasp onto the simple satisfaction of it for all my days.

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Currently Feeling: Super stoked for kickball tonight, my three day weekend, the wedding tomorrow and Ocean Shores for the rest of the weekend!
Currently Anticipating: Getting dolled up tomorrow–gettin’ my hair did!
Currently Loving: Feeling stronger by the minute!

Five, four, three, two….

Today marks the one-month-to-go post for Memorial Day weekend.
Not gonna lie, I’m sweating balls.
I’ve been super strict with my eating habits—no fast food, no white carbs, no sugar!
AND, I’ve been running three times a week. (Yes, you heard it here first, I’m still running. I haven’t given up. I’m bound and determined to make it! I’m in the midst of the fourth week of my nine-week training to run a 5K. Pebbles for some of you, but a boulder for me.)

All I can think about is the warm sun on my buns, coconut-scented sweat beaded between by breatestes and sand between my toes (and in my crack). Oh man.

SO, now that we’re one-month away, let me ask—do you feel bathing suit ready?!

(I just added that photo cause he’s mother-freakin hot!)

Currently Feeling: A little nervous to be writing for a site that gets ~2,000 hits a day. I’m SO shy about people reading my writing!
Currently Anticipating: Getting out of the house tonight for a drink with Amanda and out of the city tomorrow for a cabin-bound bachelorette party.
Currently Loving: Tanning. Must. Go. Again. Must. Get. Darker. Must. Feel. That. Glow.

Your Guide for Sunday Fun Days

Last week, I researched all-day Sunday Happy Hours for a friend who was taking a major test to become a dental hygienist. She wanted to celebrate after her test with a Sunday Fun Day, so I started to look up places in the city that offered a cheap, all-day drinking option. I thought I’d share the information with my fellow lushes:

Man Ray: The gay “video” bar on Capitol Hill has $1.50 beers and a free buffet for it’s Sunday patrons.

Lava Lounge: One of my favorite bars in Seattle, it’s located on 2nd Avenue, next to The Viceroy. The bar is so kitschy and eclectic, Amanda and I used to play I Spy while sitting at the bar. You could stare at shit for hours and still never see the same thing twice. Other games available—shuffleboard and Miss Pacman. (Patio.)

Contour: Yeah, so it’s a dance club. But, the Pioneer Square bar (next to Fado’s) has a super, super cheap Happy Hour from 2 to 8 p.m. on Sundays. They offer a $1.95 food menu, $2 Dos Equis and Tecate, and $3.50 well drinks. The menu is cheap, and extensive—chicken wings, hot wings, a cheeseburger, hummus and chicken skewers are just a few of the selections.

The Luau: Another close and personal favorite of mine. What is it with me and Tiki bars? Located in Tangletown, the bar’s Happy Hour is from 12 to 6 p.m. on Sunday. Click here for a menu. (Patio.)

Solo: A new bar on lower Queen Anne, I’ve yet to venture through its front doors. I’ve heard good things, but it hasn’t seemed to pick-up popularity, which is a plus for some of you. Happy Hour includes $2 beers and $2.50 well drinks.

Amber: Probably my least favorite on the list. The only time I’ve been there was for the opening night, and it was super pretentious, and the bar layout wasn’t patron friendly. I haven’t been back since, but the all-day Happy Hour might convince me once the weather gets nice. The $5 food menu looks fantastic. Click here to view. (Patio.)

Currently Feeling: Unproductive as all hell.
Currently Anticipating: My little sister spending the night tonight.
Currently Wanting: Nike iPod running shoes.

Self-Af-FIRM-ation

Is it just me, or are some of you starting to feel the bathing-suit-season-is-upon-us itch!? Recently, the sun has come out and it’s even starting to warm up a bit. Daylight-Savings has allowed for the sunlight to linger longer into the evening, and I’ve started having Memorial Day weekend conversations and plan-making with a few of my friends. All of which include a boat, bathing suits and drinking in the eastern Washington sun.

So now I’m starting to feel a little panicky. It won’t be long before we have to say goodbye to jeans, sweaters, jackets, and boots. I’ve already started pulling a Capri or two out of the closet and sprang for that tanning package last week. Inevitably, I’ve started checking myself out a little more in the mirror after showering…blech. Winter allows for us all to become a little soft. And I’m dreading try to firm myself back up again. Why can’t I just be one of the naturally lithe women? Damnit!

Ok, ok. Today marks the approximate two-month mark till Memorial Day. Hardly enough time to see the results I want, which means I need to start working out again, like yesterday.

I guess I’ll start this evening by pumping-up my ab ball and trying to do some sit-ups in front of America’s Next Top Model. I mean, that’s a start right?

Currently Feeling: Squishy but excited for the sun again!
Currently Anticipating: Being less squishy and seeing the sun again!
Currently Listening To: LCD Soundsystem and Fujiya & Miyagi—the two CDs I bought yesterday. SO good!

Here We Go Again…

Lucky Strikes: Season Three…

Wish us luck!