...so I don't think it's anthrax and report it to the authorities...

If you'll recall, I recently wrote a letter to crest to which I surprisingly received a prompt response as seen below.



Okay, so I realize that the picture kinda sucks and for some reason it won't go any bigger for me, so FYI, it says: (NOTE: her typos have been left in for authenticity)

While it's great to hear you're pleased with Crest and find your mouth minty and fresh after each use, I'm sorry to learn some of the product got in your while brushing. We appreciate your bringing this to our attention and I'm sharing your report with our Health and Safety Division.

Many of our decisions to change or improve packages are based on feedback from concerned consumers like you. Please be assured I’m sharing your recommendations for with the rest of our Crest Team letting them know you'd like to see additional information added to the warning statement on the package.

Since the amount of help I can offer via email is limited, I'd like to follow up with you by postal mail. Please respond with your complete name and mailing address. Once we have that, you can expect to hear from us within the next 2-3 weeks. Meanwhile, please hold on to the package and any remaining product for two weeks in the event our Health and Safety Division needs to retrieve them.

For answers to medical questions, we recommend you speak with your doctor who will be able to give you the best advice.

Thanks again for getting in touch.

Amy
Crest Team

As I noted on the image of the e-mail response, they engaged in a bit of repetition. Let's review, shall we?

My original e-mail to them: "I love your toothpaste and find it leaves my mouth feeling minty and fresh after each use..."

Note their starting response: "...and find your mouth minty and fresh after each use..."

Ryan informed me that the whole repetition thing is a tactic used in sales. It is also used in hostage negotiations to calm and reassure terrorists. Thanks for making me sound like a terrorist Amy.

Also noted was the discussion on the Health and Safety Department retrieving my toothpaste. I immediately envision them showing up in bomb squad attire, or at the very least some hazmat outfits to take away my oral care products.

Finally, when they say "...we recommend you speak with your doctor...", I'm pretty sure what they're saying is "Seek psychiatric help. Immediately."|

So naturally I had to respond. My response to Amy and the rest of the Crest team is below, complete with images.

To: pg_naconsumerrelations@mailnj.custhelp.com
Subject: RE: Thank you for contacting Crest. [ ref:00D7JViV.5007Br5BE:ref ]
Date: Tue, 27 Apr 2010 00:50:43 +0000

Hi Amy,

Thanks for such a prompt response and for enacting so quickly on my concerns. I am pleased to see that Crest not only values consumers' feedback, but their eyesight as well. It's a very redeeming quality in a company as large as P&G.
For the benefit of yourself, your Health and Safety Division and the rest of the Crest Team, I have taken the liberty of attaching product photos. As you can see in the first photo, I was unable to adhere to your request to hold onto any remaining product as this photo is of an empty tube. Since I am from Canada (and not another Country known for having people with bad teeth...I think we all know who I'm talking about), boycotting any or all oral hygiene practices is not an option.
The second photo shows our new favourite Crest product (picture #2) - and the packaging of this product shows that it too advises, nay, dictates that the user must not swallow the contents, but fails to provide instruction should the paste make it into the eye.

Since we're talking about potentially changing product packaging, another time when I was brushing my teeth in a sleepy daze, I inadvertently got some residual toothpaste on my chin. Since I was half asleep at the time, I failed to notice this and went to bed. When I awoke in the morning I discovered that the zit that had laid claim to the better half of my chin had dramatically decreased in size (and redness) over night. How could this be? The toothpaste had effectively dried it out! Because of this, I'm suggesting that you include a statement about it's acne fighting powers on the packaging (see picture) - and/or re-package and re-market this product under the skin care departments of all suppliers. I may have just generated millions of dollars for P&G with this idea. You're welcome.

Also, as per your request, I have included my name and address below, however if you could provide some insight as to what sort of mail I can expect to receive from you, I'll be less likely to think it's anthrax and call the authorities. I don't want to go through that mess again.


Thanks for your continued interest in my concerns. Looking forward to your response.

Picture 1a

Picture 1b


Picture 2

I'm curious as to what they'll be sending along in the mail. I figured it's a 50/50 chance that it's either coupons/free stuff OR a restraining order. We'll soon find out.

This may make you vomit - and then you'd have to eat it.

I don’t quite know what it is, but I’m often spurred on to start weird conversations with Ryan in the mornings while I get ready for work. That’s not to say that weird conversations don’t take place all throughout my day…maybe they’re just prolonged in the morning? Maybe Ryan plays into the conversation more? Or maybe mornings are when I’m at my peak. Whatever the reason, rarely does a day go by when a conversation doesn’t take place that I’m sure makes Ryan beg the question “Why did I marry her?”
A prime example of this type of conversation took place a few days ago. To give you a little back story, we were both getting ready for work and Ryan had left a bun out on the counter and just sort of walked away from it. When I asked him about it, he said he was going to use it for his lunch, to which I advised maybe he shouldn’t bring a lunch that day since it was his last day at work and maybe his boss (who’s was actually a friend before he became a boss) would take him out to lunch as a “Thanks for doing a bang-up job!”. (Ryan was leaving on pretty amicable terms as he’s going back to school, so they don’t hate him). Anyways, the following conversation ensued…

Me: Maybe you shouldn’t bring a sandwich today. Because if you bring one, and then Sean takes you out for lunch, the sandwich is going to go bad.

Ryan: Okay?? (as in, what’s your point?)

Me: Well the thing is, when you chose to buy the 20 friggin’ pounds of lunch meat you promised that you were going to eat it all. And I know you keep your promises – so if you were to bring a sandwich today and don’t eat it because Sean takes you out for lunch and then the sandwich goes bad from being in a warm car for several hours out of the day and you eat it, it would probably make you sick and you’d throw up right away.

Ryan: Yeah, I probably would throw up if I ate a rotten sandwich. But I wouldn’t eat a rotten sandwich.

Me: BUT, if you bring the sandwich and it goes bad you’d have to eat it because otherwise you’d be breaking your promise. And then, when you throw it back up almost instantly you’d have to eat the vomit.

Ryan: ???

Me: Well, you promised to eat the meat, and it doesn’t count if you eat it and then throw it back up right away. I promised to love and to keep you forever, but if I throw you* up I’m not just going to leave you on the floor/in the toilet/in the trash recepticle/on the side of the road/in the back of the cab, etc etc.

Ryan: What’s happening here? I would not eat a rotten sandwich and I certainly would not eat my own vomit.

Me: Well, to be fair, you’d only have to eat the part of the vomit that contained the meat. You didn’t make any promises about eating the bun. But okay, what if you were stranded on an island that had nothing on it…no food to eat, no animals to catch and no resources you could use to build a trap to catch some water animals** ,but some weird virus invaded your body and you started throwing up. If your vomit was the only thing to eat to keep you alive the extra day it would take for rescue to come and get you, wouldn’t you eat the vomit?

Ryan: I’m not stranded on an island, so I don’t need to answer that.

Me: YOU WOULDN”T EAT THE VOMIT!? So basically what you’re saying is that you would rather DIE because you wouldn’t eat your own vomit than ever see ME your WIFE ever again?

Ryan: ….

Me: Maybe it’s better if you don’t answer that.

*this is a metaphor, people!
** also known as fish

Today’s entry has several valuable lessons:
1. Don’t buy the meat if you aren’t prepared to eat it. (even if it means eating the vomit-version of it)
2. Never make a promise to me unless you’re prepared to take it to an extreme (or rather, have me take it to an extreme on your behalf and then expect you to know what the hell I’m talking about)
3. Avoid me in the mornings. At all costs.

WIHBH: Why I Haven't Been Here

No, don't worry - I wasn't killed by an elevator. Although oddly enough, on a regular basis as I approach the elevators in my building one just opens up for me, completely unprompted. When I'd tell Ryan about this, I think that he just employed the "nod and smile" technique in an effort to shut me up, but today he witnessed it actually happen not once, but twice. He seems to continue being alarmed when I talk about how I think the elevators are plotting to lull me into a false sense of security so that I'll start trusting them, and then BAM!! That's when they'll drop me like a prostitute's panties. I think the most alarming part of this for him is my tendency to attach thoughts/feelings to inanimate objects - something I've been doing since child hood when I convinced my best friend one day when she pissed me off that the Gummi Bears were going to come off my wallpaper and attack her if she didn't cut it out.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yes - I disappeared for over a month, and it certainly wasn't due to death. Truth be told, there are two legitimate reasons (and a handful of half-assed & insulting reasons) why I haven't been around. The first is because I can't stop sleeping. Sounds like bullshit, right? But it's not. No joke y'all, I'd come home from work around 4:30 and manage to stay awake for about an hour before I'd fall asleep for an hour/hour and a half, then I'd wake up and it'd be time to make/eat dinner, followed by or in combination with the prime-time show of the evening. By the time this was all done, it'd be approaching 9:30-10pm, at which point I would fall asleep again until 7am the next morning. What can you take from this? Sleeping, eating, and watching tv rank higher on the priority list than entertaining you. I realize the error of my ways now.
"But Loony - there's a one-hour gap between your arrival home from work, and the start of your evening nap. Why couldn't you blog then?"
The answer to this question is one you're not going to like. My limited hours of consciousness have been spent here:


Note the topic highlighted in the top right corner, and my acronym highlighted in the center. Yes, this is where I've been spending my time. Please try to withhold judgment.


So you're probably wondering what this is exactly. Years ago I got sucked into this game called "Acrophobia" - where a topic is chosen and some random letters are put on the screen. Each player must come up with a sentence to suit the letters on-screen - otherwise known as an acronym. When the timer runs out, all player's answers are posted on the screen and each player votes for their favourite. The acronym with the most votes wins. This "Acrophobia" game was cancelled or something years ago, but I have recently discovered this cheaper-looking version called "AcroChallenge". I am confident that after learning that this is what I've been doing with my time, my level of awesomeness weirdness has increased exponentially in your eyes. (In hindsight, using math-related words like 'exponential' isn't exactly helping my cause). So, onto less losery things (I hope)...

Some recent letters written by yours-truly:

Dear Crest,
I love your toothpaste and find my mouth always feels minty and fresh after each use, however, I have a suggestion for your customer service and marketing departments. I would like to advise that on the packaging you include emergency response instructions should a consumer inadvertently get your product in her eye. Some of us seem to enjoy your product so much we get a little over-zealous with the act of brushing and the toothbrush gets away from us and shoots up to the eye like something out of a pornographic film. I have to say my concern intensified as I read on your product label that this toothpaste (which is designed to go IN MY MOUTH) is not meant to be swallowed, so I can only speculate as to the type of damage it could do in the eye. Now, MY initial instinct was to flush it out with water, but only AFTER I completed brushing my teeth. I figured, why flush it out now if it's just going to happen again, right? HOWEVER, if you included some statement regarding this scenario on your packaging, I may have felt the need to flush out with water IMMEDIATELY after, as consumers are often advised on other product labels. You may be thinking to yourself that this was a one-time occurrence, but I assure you, it was not. This has happened to me several times prior, fortunately however they took place late in the toothbrushing process when only a residual amount of toothpaste was present.
Please revise packaging ASAP.

Sincerely Yours,
Loony

*Note: Crest hasn't responded yet, but I'm hopeful that they'll send a draft copy of emergency response instructions my way before they send it out to market.)


A week or two ago on the way home from work, I was approaching a stop-sign right by my building. A guy coming from my right was also approaching the stop-sign, however he didn't feel the need to stop. In fact, he understood the stop sign to read "Hit the gas and peel around the corner like a maniac" - and so he did. Thinking to myself "What a douche-canoe", I continued on my way, not expecting to have much more to do with this individual. That was until I saw him turn into my building's drive-way (with no signal!). The driveway from the road to the back parking lot of my building is snake-like - several bends are involved in an up-slope which ends at a blind-corner into the actual parking lot. This guy in his ugly maroon pick-up with the "Back Off" bumper sticker and the skull & crossbone stickers on the back window just ripped through this driveway, wheels squealing at every bend. Having not had a good look at the guy, and judging by his stupid truck, I assumed it was some punk teenager who was trying to show-off. For a mere second I thought that maybe I should give the person the benefit of the doubt and that maybe, just maybe he was heading home so recklessly because there was some emergency or something.
When I got into the parking lot I was partially surprised to see a gino-looking guy in his early 30's wearing his sweatpants like he thinks he's LL Cool J, taking a slow saunter to the door of the building. The point? He was driving like an asshat for nothing. The next day when we arrived to his vehicle, he found the following:

Good Morning Jackass,
You need to slow yourself down when pulling into this parking lot and when driving on the residential streets in this area. No one is impressed by your squealing tires or your douchey bumper stickers, and honestly? You look like an idiot. I'm sure you weren't cool the first time you were 17, why you want to try again and fail so miserably, I'm not too sure. Rest assured however that if I see you driving like that again I won't hesitate to give your plate number and car model to some cop buddies of mine so they can keep an eye out for you.

Sincerely Yours,
Concerned Neighbour

**As an update to this letter, he has no idea who I am or who left the letter, but I'm kinda hoping he never finds out since today I discovered a pair of HANDCUFFS attached to his front dashboard. Since I'm pretty sure he's not a cop, I'm starting to wonder if he's an abductor who handcuffs his victims - and let's face it. A letter like that might make me a target for his vengeful side. So if I disappear again for another month or longer - you'll know where I've gone.

Why do 75% of my dreams involve attempted (or successful) murder?

A few weeks ago during the lunch break, one of the ladies mentioned that she had had the 'weirdest' dream the night before. It took almost everything in me to stifle the laugh as I thought to myself "Lady, you don't know from weird". I provided them with the following example of a recent dream of mine:

Earth was being invaded by some foreign species. Their primary method of attack? Altering the water so that anytime a human touched it, they turned into an octopus. Ultimately, the species ended up dying off because we couldn't drink water, and we couldn't water crops or use any water in any food or beverage products. Score one for the aliens. Also? Score one for me since the looks on their faces provided all the evidence I needed to tell me that I "won" the 'who's the biggest nutjob' contest.

Last night I had a dream that a religious old man was chasing my friend K's friend J and her four kids. We were in a densely populated area - there were lots of people around celebrating, and J kept trying to lose the old man in the large crowds, but nothing would work. So I kept trying to help her out by blocking the old man or trying to distract him, etc...and that's when he started getting violent and aggressive. This is also around the time one of the characters from "Ghost Whisperer" arrived, and her ultimate role apparently was to help...BY CUTTING UP THE OLD MAN WITH A CHAINSAW (which she did successfully I might add).

Other dreams worth mentioning:

I was standing in a residential bathroom with some people (which residence I don't know, and which people I don't know....but don't worry, no one was peeing). To my left in the dream was the bathtub which was partially full, and in walks my cat Bella. She walks right over to the tub, hops up on the ledge, and makes her way into the water. In reality, my cat loves to play with streams of water, but only on her terms, and never a tub of water...only the dribble that comes out of the faucet. So anyways, in my dream, she goes completely under the water and just sits there looking up at me, all calm. She's got a heavy blink going, and that's when I realize her eyes are more human than cat - you can see the whites around her irises. She seems to be almost in a trance, when I notice the whites in her eyes are turning a little pinkish, and suddenly from the top down they start turning blood-red. I freak out and pull her out of the water, and suddenly her eyes are back to her normal feline eyes. When I'm assured that she's okay, I set her back down on the bathroom floor, and she resumes her spot back in the tub, under the water, looking at me with sleepy round human eyes. The same thing happens again with the blood red colouring, and this time when I scream and pull her out Ryan comes running into the bathroom to ask what's wrong. I explained what had happened to which he replied
"Uh, I hate when she does that."
Me: You've seen her do this before?
Ryan: Yeah, she climbs in the water and tunes into radio stations. Her eyes do the red thing when she tunes into BX93.



As a child I had a recurring dream where I was in the pipes leading to the furnace...but I was greatly misinformed about what a furnace actually was, and in my dream it was just a controlled fire in the pipes. Anyways, I was on one side of this fire, and my mom was on the other and we were shouting back and forth to each other when suddenly her eyes and the patch of skin running between and to each side of her eyes just came floating through the fire. Thinking back, it totally freaks my freak.

Another recurring childhood dream I can envision vividly, the dining room chairs and the toilet came alive and were trying to eat me.

I think this is accurate:

Validation for the Crazy

You know how people are supposed to be like snowflakes - no two are ever the same (except for identical twins)? And how within one person's genetic and aesthetic make-up, symmetry is a scarcity among the physical attributes? I'm concerned that I'm one of those people who maybe take that to the next level. I am starting to notice some things about myself that are making me feel a little uneasy. For example, I have this pair of shoes I wear around the office that include a velcro strap (yes, apparently I am a 5 year old). The strap on my left foot consistantly comes undone, while the strap on my right foot stays securely in place. What do I deduce from this? Instead of a rational thought like maybe the velcro straps were uneven, I assume that my left foot is fatter than my right and the shoe just can't contain it. (Incidentally, I need to be very aware of who I share this theory with because I happened to mention it to a coworker when she pointed out the loose strap, and she seemed to not know what to do or say in response. Oops).
I've also noticed that the bottom of my my right pantleg only gets all salty from the snow salt. Instead of chalking that up to the probability that it's due to driving and resting my right foot on the back of its heel and thus transferring the salt from the bottom of my shoe to the pantleg, I assume that it's all because my right leg is shorter than my left. I am also of the belief that the weight of my boobs is going to result in the development of a hunchback (because surely a hunchback won't develop from my piss-poor posture), and so when combined with the gait of having one leg shorter than the other and one foot fatter than the other (of which the eventual weight of said foot might cause one to drag it), I'm going to end up looking like this:



Ryan? Eat your heart out.


Remember when I talked about my bathroom phobias and you all thought I was crazy? This week, my 'crazy' was validated when a coworker was telling a group of us over the lunch hour about her husband's coworker who was recently 'encouraged' to retire after it had been discovered he had a camera set up in his bathroom, where business clients and coworkers were known to be when they paid a visit to his home office. How was this discovered? When a neighbour down the street picked up the feed of the home video on the camera in his truck that's supposed to show the area outside of the vehicle. I can't say for certain, but where do you think he hid that camera? I'm guessing the ceiling fan was a probability. Let me hear you say it; "Loony - you were right."
The unfortunate thing, is that once one crazy is validated, it progresses to the next level. When it comes to my bathroom conspiracy, I am no longer just worried about the living watching me pee...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mfIJLW_orM

No shit you guys - I mean, how are you supposed to hide from that? A stall without an overhead grate or built-in floor drain won't protect me from supernatural perverts wanting to catch glimpses of my cha cha. We are all totally screwed.

Intruder Alert

In keeping up with my promise to continue going to the gym, I've decided to start taking advantage of some of the classes that are available...even the ones I thought to be a little hokey. First, there was the Zumba class - a dancey kind of class with latin inspiration that left me feeling like I was in one of Shakira's music video's with a room full of women in their 40's and 50's. It was a hectic day leading up to that class and after having stayed late at work I had little time to effectively prepare for the class and even arrived 2 minutes into it. When participating in a class of the fitness variety, I refuse to be up at the front because something about people behind me makes me nervous. Fortunately, I scored a spot at the far right side of the room, in a poorly lit area (bonus!). I realized almost instantaneously that I had donned the wrong underwear for this particular activity as I could feel it riding with each swivel of my hips. Knowing full well that I had a VPL issue, I was thankful to have secured a spot in the room where this would not be noticed aside from the individual directly behind me. This being my first Zumba class however I was not aware of the fact that the instructor not only makes everyone rotate angles so that each of the three people around me (one beside, one infront and one behind) got a view of the VPL, but the instructor herself also moves around the room. This means that for a period of time I was technically at the front of the room with my VPL for all to see with emphasis on that particular location thanks to the hip-swinging activities I was forced into. I had to make a difficult decision - to allow my fellow Zumbanian's to see the dreaded VPL or to have them see me 'fix it' by subtly removing the underwear from between my cheeks. VPL - you win.

The next class was a yoga/tai chi infusion which I've been quite honestly fearful of trying due to the degree of bare-footedness that takes place. I decided to buck up and give it a shot, with the promise to myself that I would keep my socks on and do my best to focus on my discomfort with the physical activity as opposed to the discomfort with all the naked feet in my surroundings. Just as class is about to begin, one of my favourite teachers from my high school days comes walking up to me (as I'm all disheveled and grubby) looking fantastic in her yoga garb. We spend a few minutes catching up before the class begins, where naturally, she's at the front of the room and I'm hiding out in the back corner. Things get started and I notice that my balance is well...not existent, while she's doing all the advanced moves. You may be thinking that she was at the front of the room, so it's no big deal - she wouldn't know how bad I sucked, right? Well, the mirrors all over the frickin' room ensured she got to see even the most embarrassing moments, such as when I was trying to do something like this:



Only imagine doing that and leaning forward so your chest is on your thigh. Now take the arm opposite to the leg you're laying on, and put the elbow of that arm on the ground infront of your chin with your fist up by your face. Then take your opposite arm, raise that elbow up to the ceiling and use that hand to cup the fist of your other hand (then sing the alphabet backwards while simultaneously finding a cure for cancer and coming up with the most complex mathematical question known to man). I was just getting into this pose when the instructor said to try and look up towards the ceiling once in position....this resulted in one fluid movement that caused me to not only reach the optimal position, but to keep on rolling until I was right on my back. Of course this was also a time/position when my former music teacher/yoga guru from up front happened to be facing my direction and I'm confident I heard her (among others) stifle a laugh, since no one else seemed to have the troubles I did. (I bet ten million to one that you all will go home tonight or leave your computer right now to try this position...and those of you who have the same problem as me will sympathize, and those of you who master it will judge us. Jerks.)
Incidentally, I left the class uncomfortably sweaty and woke up the next morning feeling like I had been kicked in the ribs. I'll be going back next week.


* * * * *

This week Ryan and I are watching the house, kids and pets (2 of the three dogs and one cat) belonging to my Aunt and Uncle while they're off on vacation. We really kicked it off with a bang so to speak. Saturday afternoon we assumed custody of all that my Aunt and Uncle hold dear out in an isolated little town. The afternoon was pretty standard for a Saturday, and we weren't having any problems - until about 2:30am when Ryan and I awoke to the dogs going insane. He and I both run downstairs to see what they're going so crazy about, when I realize two things:
1. The dog is barking viciously - and aiming his aggression at the door from the garage into the house.
2. This is when I realized that while on the way downstairs I heard a door close after hearing a guys voice saying the dogs name, obviously trying to calm it down (Unfortunately, I was the only one to hear this). I assumed it was the 16 year old sneaking out (or back in), or one of his buddies sneaking out.
As I hear the garage door closing, Ryan sees a figure out on the street infront of the house and he opens up the door and calls out the name of the 16 year old, but the guy says "It's Shane. I closed the door." (FYI - the 16 year old's name is not Shane). Content that it wasn't our guy sneaking out he shuts the door. I watched the guy walk down the street and felt unsure about what to do with the situation since the guy could've been a friend of one of the boys, but both boys slept through the whole incident.
The next morning we ask some questions, and find out that the guy who was IN THE HOUSE at 2:30 in the morning was one of the drunk neighbours, and that the 16 year old had left the garage door open when he went out for a smoke after Ryan and I had gone to bed. Apparently in this subdivision, an open garage means "Please, walk into my house.". I ask you, what does it say about a guy who will walk into a house at 2:30am when the vehicles of the people who live there are not there, and this is barking viciously at you:



Although maybe the guy got off easy. I'm finding that sometimes it's hard to tell what's worse - the threat of a dog (that's mostly Bull Mastiff) wanting to rip out your throat, or the wrath of a 16 year old who's feeling a "little" defensive because you told him to do his homework. I think the teenager will soon find out that the real danger is a PMS'ing woman with little tolerance for academic slacking.

A Disturbing State of Affairs

Having only started my job a month ago, I've been intentionally a little 'restrained' so as not to scare my coworkers with my perverse unique personality. Basically, my plan was to wait until after my probation period was up so that they would be stuck with me before knowing what they got themselves into. My fears were put at ease however when my coworkers showed me this on Friday morning:



The health unit has taken a more unique approach to sex education, using such characters as (from right to left):

Captain Condom - a scientist devoted to creating the perfect condom, but was caught in a horrible lab explosion and is now spending his days as half man, half condom. His special power? Being able to stretch to any size - and when used correctly is 98% effective.

Power Pap - Our first heroine who had a close call with an STI and now advocates pap smears for one and all! Her x-ray vision allows her to spot your crabs and gonorrhea from a mile away!

Willy the Kid - who reminds us that size doesn't matter as long as you are have rock hard strength.

Finally:
Wonder Vag - who promotes abstinence and can readily spot the skeevy horndogs with her lie-detecting abilities.

Together they combat: The Sperminator




Seriously, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. You can fight penis-hands Sperminator here, but lord help you if you answer incorrectly as you'll get hit in the face with a wad of STI-loaded sperm.

And for your viewing pleasure: (not appropriate for viewing on your work computer...under most circumstances)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uqt3Zb7BItA&feature=player_embedded

My in-laws always joke that my sister-in-law is really the product of an afternoon with her mom and the milkman. That joke will forever make me think of this video - at which point I will realize I don't need to know that much about my mother-in-law.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BMXKlproVQ&feature=player_embedded

And finally, because you never know....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhbns7j6bpU&feature=player_embedded



On a regular basis I'd say I'm pretty oblivious to things in my environment unless I am intentionally focused on them. Despite what you may or may not think, I chalk it up to the fact that I've got too much going on mentally to allow myself to be sidetracked with trivial things that might get picked up in my peripheral vision. Occassionally however, something will break through my concentration barrier. Sometimes these things are real, and sometimes they are not. For example, this is real:



But instead of seeing it for what it was, I saw it as what I wanted it to be, which was this:



Everyday for the past month I have been driving past this sign fantasizing about what this Crap Mask could possibly look like. Let's note shall we, that not once did I question whether or not a "Crap Mask" was a real thing or question what it would be used for (by sane individuals), but I suspect it would be something like this:

Remember in school when you learned that in the days of war when chemical bombs would be utilized, soldiers were encouraged to pee on a rag and put it up to their face to protect themselves from gas? This is the next level.



No word of a lie, this was what I envisioned every day, until the one time I was driving past this sign in the car with Ryan. When I excitedly pointed out this sign I had told him so much about, my crap-mask dreams were shattered when I realized it wasn't referring to poop at all. I suppose it would be hard to keep the poop in a cohesive coil against your face for it to be effective as a mask. *Sigh* I guess the urine will have to do. Or, you know...maybe a gas mask that doesn't involve use of excretory waste?



Ultimately it was my decision to join the gym, and when Ryan and I had a conversation one day about his role in my fitness endeavours he was ready to take on the task. Ryan's job is to encourage me to continue actually going to the gym. I don't think he knew what he was up against.

My Top 25 Reasons for NOT Going to the Gym (note, some are reasonable, and the rest? Well...)

1. It's too hot.
2. It's too cold.
3. It's the perfect temperature - why waste my time in the gym when I could be* outdoors?
(* could be, but probably won't be)
4. I just washed my hair - I don't want to get it sweaty.
5. I didn't drink enough water today OR I drank too much water today and thus will have to leave my machine every 10 minutes to pee.
6. I ate really well today and thus don't feel the need to work out.
7. I ate like crap today, and thus will feel nautious if I exert myself too hard.
8. There's too many people at the gym.
9. There's not enough people at the gym, and thus people are likely to watch me more since their alternatives for people-watching are limited.
10. I left early because the guy beside me smelled like B.O. I mean really bad.
11. I had chili for lunch today and I might smell really bad.
12. I went to the gym yesterday, and thus don't need to go today.
13. I went to the gym yesterday, and thus I can't move today.
14. It's Saturday.
15. It's Sunday.
16. It's a holiday.
17. Well, I want to do a spin class but it doesn't start until 5:30 and I'm not going to work out for an hour before spin class and then do the class, but once I come home I'm not going to head back out to spin class later.
18. I feel too fat for the gym today.
19. I forgot socks, shoes, the "right" bra, shirt, pants, deodorant, ipod, headphones, entire gym bag, sweat towel, water bottle, etc
20. I have no way to put my hair up.
21. I'm having too good a hair day today to ruin it at the gym.
22. I'm cramping.
23. I've got my period.
24. I just finished my period.
AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST...
25. I just don't feel like going, and I don't care if you're disappointed. (often my mindset when reason #23 is a factor.)

All I can say is I feel sorry for the poor guy having to go up against that, because really? You just can't win. I do love him for trying though.