Sunday, September 30, 2012

How To NOT Run A Race

I think I've skipped more races than I've ran this year.

Mind you, I sign up for a lot of races, usually when they're cheap, always on a whim. 

And I had the most ridiculous first world meltdown every this year.

Reasons To Skip A Race:

-You're injured.  Not, like, sore for too many squats.  Use this as a reason, not an excuse.

-You're grossly undertrained AND incapable of pushing through.  This is will never apply to a 5k unless you have some physical issue that prevents you from walking 3 miles.  Otherwise it is impossible to be *grossly* undertrained for a 5k.  Undertrained, yes.  Grossly is when you haven't ran further than 5 miles for three months and you're still considering doing a half marathon.  Even then, there are people who can muscle through it. 

-Something more important came up.  "More important":  Baby shower, wedding, visiting sick relative, getting to pet kittens, shitting your pants.  Not "more important":  Sleeping in.

-You don't want to.

Okay, listen.  In my circle of friends I'm kind of a badass, because I can climb trees and I exercise.  Is there a non-religious phrase that accurately captures "it's my cross to bear"?  Because I'm not religious, so referencing Jesus seems weird.  Anyway, being labeled a badass is kind of cool, right?  I do stupid cool shit and brag about it on Facebook and everyone's like "Holy shit Rose you ran two miles you're amazing!"  It's worth noting that I still milk the "I ran around a track for (sort of) 24 hours!" thing.  But it's also worth noting that sometimes I do things that are way more bad ass (Cactus to Clouds), but there's not way to adequately brag about it, because you really had to be part of it to know how amazing it was.

Where was I?  Oh, yeah, I'm kind of a badass.  To some people.  People who are truly badass look at my accomplishments and shrug.  Whatever.  As long as someone is impressed.  And that someone is me.

Fuck, I got off track again.

So, part of (to me) my badassery is also my Achilles's Heel.  I run because I want to.  Which means (OH GOD THESE LAST THREE MONTHS) when I don't want to run, I don't.  In the last three months I've skipped four or five races because of "I don't wanna."

There's something to be said for showing up.  For some of those races, if I had shown up and started, I would have been fine.  I probably would have had a fucking great time.  But some of those races, no.  It would have made things worse.  It's almost impossible to know how it will turn out.

The hardest part is, for anyone else, when asking my advice, "I don't want to" is a shit poor excuse.  Fuck that.  Sometimes this shit is hard, and you need to nut the fuck up, lace up, and get out there.

But when I'm looking at myself (in the mirror in this fabricated scenario, I guess?), and I hear "I don't want to," that's okay.  You're doing this for fun!  If you don't want to, you don't have to.  You already paid.  It doesn't matter if you run or not.  Sunken cost fallacy!  Maybe.  If you stretch it.

It helps (or doesn't help) that I sign up for a stupid number of races, without any goals for any of them.  "Sure, I'll do four half marathons this fall, because they're all under $40 each!"

I've lost my train of thought again.


Yeah, it's gone. 

You tell me.  Is "I don't want to" a good excuse for skipping a race, ever?

What would make you skip a race?

Friday, September 28, 2012

In Which I Accidentally Do Crossfit

My trainer frequently makes me do circuits.  Sometimes he's making it up as he goes along.  Sometimes it's something we've done before (which is great, because I can see progress, if I'm paying attention, which I'm not).

Yesterday, the circuit had a name.  Which meant he pulled it from Crossfit.


For time: 100 Pull-ups 100 Push-ups 100 Sit-ups 100 Squats.

Parsed out any way I wanted to do it.

I have strong feelings about the CF atmosphere, and the pressure some of their gyms put on people.  I have issues with some of the workouts that are done for time, when the focus should be on form and 1RM.

But as far as I've seen, most of the workouts, when done smartly, are fine, if not excellent.

So when he told me the workout had a name, I kind of didn't give a shit.  I'm not competing against anyone.  It didn't mean anything to me.

Plus, I was going to have to modify the pull-ups anyway (band), so it's not like my time would be comparable to anyone actually doing it.


My original plan was to do five sets of 20 of everything.  20 push-ups (on my toes, because if I were still doing knee push-ups at this point in the game I'd be fucking ashamed) seemed like a reasonable amount.  Everything else would be easier.

But then I thought "if I can do 20, I could just add another 5, and knock off a whole round.  What's another 5, right?"

By using that logic, I ended up doing 3 sets of 33, 33, 34.  I had to pause a few times for the second two rounds of push-ups, but not for long.

Time:  ummmmmmm, either 13:14 or 13:40?  I wasn't really listening.  So let's say 14:00 just to be safe, because it matters soooooooooooooo much.

Then we did some shoulder work to make sure I'm not a hunchback in 10 years.  All of it was complicated, with tiny weights and lots of struggle.  My shoulders are ridiculously not flexible.  There's something supremely humbling about using 5lb weights and doing movements that require rest between each one.


Tuesday night I had a dream that involved seeing the above comic.  I woke up and drew it the best I could.

Yeah.  I don't know either.  But this post needed a picture, and the post-workout pictures I took last night all look like I'm trying too hard to be skinny, or were super blurry, neither way worthy of putting on the internet forever.  At least not today. 


The weather has calmed down a bit.  For now.  Which means it's no longer too hot to run.  And I still haven't been running.  I guess I'll have to come up with another excuse.  I'll get back to you on that one.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

In Which I Cure The Common Cold

When someone asks why you post pictures of your armpits, the answer is always "because I can."

Vegas was fine.

Sky's been working out with me, which is awesome, because his sweat glands are ridiculous.

And if you want some eye candy, this is what I pay to look at twice a week:


Where was I?

Oh, the workout:

10 (per side) reverse lunges while holding weird bowling pin looking weighs
10 (per side) KB single leg deadlifts
15 push ups

Parking lot length side squat walks with bands
Parking lot length farmers walks (two 35lb weights)

12 (per side) cable side rotation things
10 assisted pistol squats

I love having Sky in the gym with me.  Helping him do moves reinforces *me* doing them properly.  And he is constantly making me laugh.  Plus, he challenges me.

I gained 5lbs while in Vegas.  This is not a hyperbole.  My trainer weighed me Thursday, and again today.  Hilarious.  When I saw the scale today, I actually laughed.  I'm sure it's mostly water weight, but I did eat a lot of food in Vegas.  It happens.  It's nice to know that deep down, I don't really care.  I don't eat like that all the time.  It's not a big deal.

Over the same period Sky, who did not come to Vegas, lost four pounds.  I'm super happy for him.

Unrelated:  The Charmin commercials with the bears that don't properly wipe their asses REALLY bother me.  REALLY REALLY bother me.  Listen.  We all shit.  A bear shit in the woods.  Etc.  I DO NOT NEED TO SEE TOILET PAPER STUCK ON A BEAR'S ASS.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Why We Shouldn’t Accept “Fat Acceptance”

I'm on my way to Vegas today, so I'll leave you with this.  I didn't write it, but I definitely agree with it.


Why We Shouldn’t Accept “Fat Acceptance”

Some tidbits.  But the whole article, while long, is so very worth the read.

The very name of the “Fat Acceptance” movement is exemplary of what’s wrong with identity-politics rhetoric: it muddles dispassionate conceptual arguments with overtones of personal, emotional stuff.  In other words, if you say “I don’t support the Fat Acceptance movement,” and what you mean is “I believe obesity is not genetic and it’s possible for fat people to lose weight,” it’s going to be heard as “I think it’s okay to be mean to fat people.”  And this is by design: the aim of the movement’s rhetoric is to render scientific arguments culturally unstable, so that they instantly degenerate into arguments about personal prejudice.  As a general rule, you should stay away from movements that make a habit of this sort of thing.

 What more proof do you need that obesity isn’t wholly — or even predominantly — genetic than the fact that it’s happening in America?  America is, as you doubtless learned in elementary school, a “melting pot.”  People have been coming here from all over the world for as long as we’ve existed.  There’s no such thing as being genetically “American” — so how the hell could something genetic be happening in America and nowhere else?  And don’t tell me people in other countries are all malnourished.  I’m not comparing us to North Korea and sub-Saharan Africa here — I’m comparing us to Europe, where most Americans’ genes sailed over from within very recent history, and freaking Canada, which is right next door.  Why would people in Minnesota be genetically fat and people half an hour across the border not be?  If two-thirds of Americans of, say, Irish or French ancestry are “genetically” fat, then roughly the same proportions of people in Ireland or France should also be fat, but they’re not.  The only way wildly disproportionate obesity rates could be both genetic and uniquely American would be if aliens are altering our DNA by bombarding us with gamma rays or something — in which case, I should really not be writing this article, because I wouldn’t like two-thirds of Americans when they’re angry.

Yes, it is true that you need personal trainers and dietitians to look like Gwyneth Paltrow or the dude who plays Thor.  But you don’t need a personal trainer or a dietitian to look like a reasonably attractive regular person.  It’s not like there’s no middle ground between “celebrity” and “big fat pig.”  In fact, I’ll map out that middle ground right now.
    10:  A-List celebrity who is one of the most attractive people on the planet
      9:  Incredibly hot person whom most people would still give their right arm to date
      8:  Damn good-looking person who has no trouble getting dates or attention
      7:  Totally cute person anyone would marry assuming they are compatible in other ways
      6:  Marginally attractive person
      5:  Marginally unattractive person
      4:  Fat
      3:  So fat your coworkers make faces when they hear you eating
      2:  So fat you need one of those fat-person canes with the three prongs at the bottom
      1:  So fat there’s a reality show about how fat you are

If I let myself I'd sit here and quote the whole article, which does a disservice to the author, so just go read it, okay?

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

On Crappy Mile

Today I ran one crappy mile.

I'm probably being generous on calling it a mile.

Even listening to Adam Carolla couldn't save it.

My legs felt heavy.

I was hungry.

It was hot.

I wasn't feeling it.

So I ran one crappy mile and stopped.

Eh, you can't win them all.

I Have The Rear End Of A Teenage Boy

I feel like I dropped off the face of the earth again.

Let's start with yesterday.

Sky is still trying to lose his man boobs (as his sister I can say these things on the internet), so he came to work out with me.  As punish for having to put up with Sky, my trainer devised the following:

The Workout:

10 kb squat and curls
15 jumping rope slams (each one is three hops forward, three hops back, while slamming the rope)
20 wallballs

At one point I thought I couldn't breathe.  And by 'one point' I mean repeatedly.  It was a bam bam bam ass kicker.  Writing it out, it doesn't LOOK that difficult.  But, Sky and I were both dead at the end, so I wasn't just being a wuss.

I mean, I was.  I made terrible food decisions yesterday which left me underfed come workout time.  This was super stupid on my part.  I really should know better.  Lazy is not always my friend.


When last we met....

Friday:  I brought clothes to run in on Friday.  But it was stupid hot, and I was lazy, so I went home after work and watched TV.

Saturday:  I played football for 2 hours in 108F heat.  There was a slight wind, so it was okay.  I caught the ball a few times (including once with my face), so my skills appear to be improving.  I also supplied water to half the people there.  What kind of idiot goes to play football in the Valley and doesn't bring water?  Post-football I took this picture, and I don't know why. 

Saturday night I threw a going away party for my friend April, who is going to France to teach English.  I had a great time.  She knows wonderful people.  When she posted the pictures online the next day, my first thought was "who is that teenage boy in my fridge?"  It was me.  Time to do more squats.

Sunday:  There was a Stan Lee comic book convention in town, so of course I went.  I ran (and survived) a zombie obstacle course.  I may have threatened to double tap my husband and friend Anne if the zombie apocalypse does occur, because I don't want my survival hindered.  I'm kind of an asshole.  After the obstacle course we wandered around the floor looking at hot chicks in skimpy cosplay costumes.  Good times.

Monday:  I had an acupuncture appointment after work.  I'm still battling sleep issues, just not as bad as before.  My sleeping pills run out in 6 days, so I'm throwing noodles at the wall.  Maybe it will help.  Who knows.  I've never had a problem with needles, and didn't really feel them sliding in to my skin.  After they were removed the doctor adjusted my neck and back, which felt awesome.  I had regular chiropractor appointments in high school (tl;dr: soccer fucked up my back but I refused to quit playing so I got readjusted twice a week until the season was over and then fixed) and loved them.  Good times.  I have another appointment tomorrow.  I'm giving it time.  My insurance covers it, and the odds of it doing harm are low, so hey, whatever.

My husband's brothers are in town, and his youngest brother is an amazing artist.  He brought me a super late or super early birthday present:

That's stencils and spraypaint, folks.  Fuck yeah.

So, there you have it.  Thrilling shit, yo.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

I Am Not A Role Model

I ran again last night.  Someone throw me a goddamn parade!

Same trails.  I did the smaller loop (somewhere between 3 and 3.5 miles I think.  I have it written down somewhere, but I'm really trying not to focus on any numbers) because I was pressed for time.  I did it backwards, though, so I had one long awful stretch of uphill.

It was fucking awesome.  It was hard.  My legs burned.  My lungs wheezed.  It was great.  Nothing but the sound of the wind and my feet hitting the dirt and my wheezing.

The short loop is more traveled, so there were no interesting fauna this trip.  The flora was still fantastic to stare at while spacing out, so it doesn't really matter.

Does this mean my running mojo is back?

No.  I mean, probably not.  I'm enjoying the running, but I'm having to force myself to start each run.  I'm not fluttering through the day with anticipation.  I'm not sure I ever did that, though, to be fair.

What it really comes down to is the numbers.  Once I start paying attention to the numbers am I going to freak out, light everything on fire, and walk away again?  Don't know.  I guess I'll find out eventually, but right now I'm still easing in.  Don't want to fuck everything up.

Since my brother wanted to be on a stupid diet, I kind of put myself on a stupid diet as well.  I am acknowledging that it is stupid.  I don't need to diet, or "diet" or """"""diet"""""" or whatever.  What the hell just happened?  Oh.  Um.  Food.  Sky's doing super low carb (half assed keto diet.  Ish.) because he can eat the same thing every day and not get bored, and he and I both like to push our bodies to the extreme.  So, I'm doing that too, I guess.  Listen:  any eating plan where pork rinds are better than an apple is not something you should be doing normally, okay?  There is a time and place for it for some people.  Most people?  No.  Don't do it.  Okay?

That said, it's fun.  I'd rather have fat than carbs any day of the week.  Lots of odd sensations.  My body keeps trying to convince me that I'm starving to death.  I'm not.  It's cool.  I'm tracking everything.  It's not a normal "I need food."  It's weird.  The internet says it's normal.

I'm mostly just doing this because I'm bored, and I want to keep Sky company for the next month.  Again, we both like to test the limits of our bodies.  Sometimes in stupid ways.  Because we can.  It's interesting to tinker with stuff like this.  Mostly, I get bored.  Plus, this makes me have to be more creative in the kitchen.  How can I shove more fat in to every meal?  Stuff like that.

tl;dr:  I'm doing stupid food shit because I'm bored.  Don't do it yourself, because it's stupid.  How many times can I say stupid?  Does this sound defensive enough?  Should I say "stupid" a few more times?

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

I Keep Wanting To Spell "Rope" as "Roap"

"I took the best picture of my ass today."

This is a conversation that happened last night.

"The problem is, you can see ass sweat.  It looks really gross."

My husband reaches out, so I pull up the picture of my phone.  He recoils.  I delete the picture.


The Workout

30s side to side rope slams
15 band assisted pull ups
10 dumbbell chest presses
2.5 minutes pushing on a powered down treadmill

30s jumping forward and backward rope slams
30s flailing Elaine-esk rope slams
15 squat and rows

60 second planks

I always feel so good after I work out with my trainer.  So awake and alive.  I wish I could harness that feeling.  I used to train in the mornings, and the feeling wasn't as strong.  Plus, I whined more.  If I didn't have a job maybe I could train at noon and dance around singing for the rest of the day.  Stupid job.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Sweating More Than Balls

I went running with Sky tonight.  It was hot enough that he wasn't just sweating balls.

He was sweating balls and dick.

What kind of pervert sweats like that?

My brother, that's who.

In contrast, I was practically dry.

We ran just over 3.5 miles.  He told me he only wanted to do three miles, to ease back in to running, but I'm bad at gauging distance.  Oh well.  He sucked it up.

While we ran he outlined the entire plot of the movie The Warrior, and why the whole movie was terrible, stupid, and ridiculous.  It was a great way to stay distracted and enjoy running.  I recommend everyone in a slump to go find your personal Sky.  Your running will greatly improve.

Weekend? More like STRONGend, amirite?

Friday I went running through my favorite hills.  I don't know why it's taken me so long to go back there.  I suppose I was afraid there wouldn't be magic, that my feelings about running would overpower my love for the hills, and I'd run the one place that always sings in my heart.

It's nice to be wrong sometimes.

I ran the long loop, but I ran it backwards, so the elevation gain was spread out better.  So I wouldn't die.

I saw two tarantulas. 

A gopher snake.

And a deer who was two fast for my quickdraw camera skills.  Oh well.

It was lovely.  The weather was lovely.  I was not fast.  I did not run hard.  But I ran solid, and I had a smile on a face. 

Things are falling back in to place.


Saturday I met up with a friend of mine to play touch football at the park.  It was about 104F.  I was nervous, since I would only know one person there.  But beyond nervous, I was super excited.  I hadn't played a team sport since college (note:  did not play REAL team sports in college.  Half assed some intramural soccer, stuff like that.  NOT A COLLEGE ATHLETE.)

You guys, it was awesome.  Once I got over my initial introversion, and made it clear to everyone involved that I was going to be awful, so don't expect much from me, I had so much fun.  Yeah, I was terrible.  Whatever.  I had a great time.  I got to run around.  I laughed a lot.  It took me out of my comfort zone and it was worth it. 

So sweaty.


Saturday night was my brother's birthday party + a housewarming party for him and his wife.  It was 20s themed.

I drank too much.  I regretted it Sunday.  All day Sunday.

Mind you, my hung over Sunday looked very similar to my normal Sunday.  Too much internet and terrible tv, not enough anything else.  I did leave the house, but only to drive to McDonalds to get food.  Those fuckers really need to serve breakfast all day.  I'd build a castle out of their hashbrowns.


Overall, a successful weekend, even if I do still feel a little bit hung over.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Excess Baggage

Loving the dark bags under my eyes.  On top of not sleeping well for 2.5 months, I woke up this morning at at 4:45am.

For no goddamn reason.


Falling apart.

The whole day.

Until it was gym time.  Magical endorphins.  Wonderful trainer.  I laughed, frequently and hard.  We talked about farts, we watched a guy smack a girl's ass while showing her how to do tricep kickbacks.  We watched a guy outside the gym smoke pot.

20 side lunges with band
12 (per side) pistol squats (using rings to pull myself up)
15 ring push ups
2.5 minutes on the treadmill @ 7mph

12 (per side) weighted step ups
15 squat to high rows

10 leg lower things
10 bridges while lifting altering legs
20 thrusting bridge things

At least I still love lifting weights. 

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

I Like Cat Calls

Listen.  I have a blog.  You have to be an attention whore to have a blog.  Seriously.  Why else would you assume anyone gives a shit about what you eat or how you sweat?  We're all ego driven attention whores.


I like cat calls.  It means someone took a moment out of whatever he was doing to let me know I look good.  And let's face it, I look good.  And I enjoy being told I look good.  Especially while running.

I spent three months in Central America after college.  I was told repeatedly by people down there that men would cat call me all the time, and to not feel threatened, because that's just what men down there did.  I don't know if that's true, or some awful stereotype, but that's why I was told by people who lived there.  And it was true for me.  All the time.  Blond pale as shit girl.  I stood out.  And I got used to it.


I ran today.

A little over three miles.  It felt like much longer.  But, the weather was cooler, and I was doing it.

I also did some gardening.  The grape vines in the front of our house are a little out of control.

Running.  *sigh*

It was nice to just be out there.  I only know the distance because I mapped it out once I got home, in some sick home that it would magically be much, much farther.  But, nope.  Part of me is hesitant to push it too hard so I don't get hurt or kill myself and ruin everything.  But I might be wussing out too much.

I don't know.

Also, I think I got a blister.  THREE FUCKING MILES. That is unacceptable.

Well, okay, it's acceptable.  It would take too much effort (beyond engaging the caplocks key) to do anything about it.

How can I be so awesome and so lazy at the same time?

Some Things Never Change

I haven't been running since I last time I mentioned I'd gone running.  What, a week?  The only time over the last week I *wanted* to run, I was mildly drunk and home alone.  I was sober enough to recognize that trying to run alone, in the dark, with delayed motor skills, was a terrible idea, so I harassed people on Facebook instead.

So, yeah, no running mojo back yet.  Next week I nut up, no matter what.  I've just been hoping it would roll back in on its own. 

Sleep is still a struggle.  Sleeping pills are helping the sleep I do get be deeper, which is good.  But I'm still having issues waking up, and I'm still not getting enough sleep.  To be fair, I think I might have slept a net 8 hours last night?  But I still woke up feeling like shit, so either my math is wrong, or my slept debt is so large that one night of good sleep couldn't make a dent in it.  Neither option is appealing.

I'm still blaming my lack of running-desire on lack of sleep and too much heat.  Maybe if both those problems get solved and I still don't want to run I'll address deeper issues, but they seem like pretty good reasons to kill my will to run right now.

It's not a big deal.  I've filled the running void with other things.  Mostly TV.  It's amazing how much more TV I can watch when I'm not planning on running.  I think I watched three hours of Guy Code last night. 

Yesterday's Workout:

Pictured:  75% of the gym.  And my stupid tattoo.

30s "dance like no one is watching" ropes
30s squatting ropes
8 chest presses (70lbs)
2:30 manually pushing the treadmill w 3 15s bursts of running

30s hopping forward and backward ropes
30s side lunges ropes
12 cable flies
15 squat to high rows

15 (per side) one leg raised back bridges

60s plank

I blame the humidity for this swear more than the workout, since I wasn't really working as hard as I should.  Also, something is in my teeth.  Whatever.


My trainer agreed that we should put my brother Sky on keto for his 30 days of weight loss craziness.  Only, he thinks we should do it srs bsn style, with pee sticks and everything.  The trainer is putting two of his friends on srs bsn keto, so he probably wants the company.  I don't think Sky needs that.  Just well defined rules for a limited period of time to make his supple man boobs go away.  (He's totally not fat or anything, but he is the heaviest he's ever been, and the laziest he's ever been, and he, like me, likes to do random body experiments).


I recently discovered the mind blowing awesomeness of cold brewed iced coffee.  Well, re-discovered, I think.  In high school the local radio station would sell iced coffee at all the music festivals.  This stuff was the most amazing thing I had ever tasted.  "HOW DO YOU MAKE THIS????"  They said it took days.  My brain stopped listening after that.  And yet, 16 years later or whatever, here it is.  So good.  So easy.

So caffeinated.


The word for "fart" in Middle English is "fart."

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

In Which I Sell Out, aka DOVE CONDITIONER, YO!


For reasons known only to that part of my brain that says "yes" a lot, I decided to review some Dove Conditioner. Dove Nourishing Oil Care Conditioner. "Helps protect hair from further moisture loss!"

While this might not seem out of character in general, that's only because I don't talk about my hair care much. Because it doesn't matter. But, since we're here: I don't use shampoo. Or conditioner. I spent a year washing my hair with baking sode, but I'm more lazy than hippie, so now I use Dr. Bronner's soap. And no conditioner. Because I am lazy and hate my hair.

I know, I know. You'd never know just looking at me that...who am I kidding. No one cares how you clean your hair, as long as it's sort of clean.

But I'll give you the run down of how I got there anyway.

I spend a shameful amount of time online. I'm not going to lie, it's straight up shameful. I have wasted lifetimes sifting through useless words and pictures. Which is how, years ago, I stumbled across an article about the no poo movement. Holy shit, what an awful name, right? But they mean shamPOO. No feces in this post. Okay? The basic hippie gist is that shampoo ruins your hair chemicals chemicals fish in the ocean. What I saw was "weird thing you can do to keep the curse of eternal boredom at bay." And thus launched a year of mixing baking soda in the show. It was tedious you guys. And then I got lazy and switched to Dr. Bronner's because it's still kind of hippie but super easy to use. I keep a cup in the bathroom, pour some in (for my hommies), add water, wash the hair. It works for everything. When I spent three months in Central America after college I used lavender Dr. Bronner's to wash my hair, body, and clothes, until my traveling companion led a one man revolution against it, because the smell was driving him insane.

Where was I? Oh god. Conditioner. Okay, so there's a faction of the no 'poo movement for ladies with curly hair: CO -- Conditioner Only. Go there for the deets, or hit me up if you're interested in the nitty gritty.

We're finally getting to the point!

So I was all "hey, I'll review that conditioner, while still staying true to my...who I am kidding. I have nothing to stay true to. I just like to explore the fringe. Anyway. So I've been using the shit out of a bottle of conditioner.

Here are my thoughts:

1. It makes my hair smell (good.) I've been using scent-free Dr. Bronner's, so this is unusual for me. After the first use, the moment my husband walked in the door he exclaimed "you smell like shampoo!" I'm an asshole, so I immediately correct him, because, dude, it's conditioner. Are you defective? But, yes. Smell. And it's a good smell, no question.

2. My hair is soft, yo. Laziness and apathy have led to years of not properly conditioning my hair. I don't care. It's passable. I'm not trying to land roles or a man. I look fantastic on a daily basis without primping, so whatever. But it means certain things fall by the wayside. So, soft hair. Whoa.

3. My hair looks dirtier faster. I'm going to say this is 85% due to me touching my hair more. "It's soft!" touch touch. "I can run my fingers through it!" touch touch. "I'm doing something different!" touch touch. The other 15% is because of science, I'm sure. Alternatively, conformation bias. Probably that.

So, you're reading this saying "Rose, you don't use conditioner in general. So how do I know THIS conditioner is better than some other conditioner, based on what you're saying?"

You can't. But that holds true for pretty much any review, right? (And I never got asked to review a product again...)

But, conditioning your hair in general is probably a good idea. My hair looks like shit normally (and I'm still adorable, but whatever). Thankfully I don't live somewhere with humidity, because the media informs me that can make hair act weird? Thrilling shit, right? Okay, back to the press release. "Patented Micromoisture Serum targets damage, repairing the surface of hair by sealing lifted cuticles." I don't know what that means. But I do know that MOST products say "Patent pending," because it takes for-fucking-ever for a patent to go through to government patent office. So that must mean this micromoisture shit was been in the works for a long time, and was worth dealing with all the hassle? Take from that what you will.

Um, a picture.

That's a pig's ear from Petco (where the pets go).  And my hair.  Thrilling, I know.


Promotion Prompt: Have you ever tried alternative methods for hair care? How did it turn out? (answer this question in the link below for a contest entry. Answer it again in my comments section so we can all learn from you or laugh at you.)
Enter to win a $1,000 Spafinder gift certificate!



You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods:

a) Follow this link, and provide your email address and your response to the Promotion prompt

b) Tweet (public message) about this promotion; including exactly the following unique term in your tweet message: "#SweepstakesEntry"; and then visit this link to provide your email address and the URL to that Tweet.

c) Blog about this promotion, including a disclosure that you are receiving a sweepstakes entry in exchange for writing the blog post, and then visit this link to provide your email address and the URL to that post.

This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. Winners will have 72 hours to claim the prize, or an alternative winner will be selected.

The Official Rules are available here.

This sweepstakes runs from 9/4/2012 - 9/30/2012

Be sure to visit Dove® to get a coupon for $1.50 off Dove Hair Therapy products.


Disclaimer: I will eventually get paid for this post, but all the opinions are mine. If you doubted that you totally did not read this post, because no one working in PR could come up with such shitty and half assed copy. Well, they could, but then they'd probably be fired. Also, all the money I'm getting will be put to good use. I'm cooking up some half giveaway half charity thing once I get paid, because let's face it, this blog is not, nor will it ever even remotely be how I make a living, so if I'm going to subject you the reader to this stuff, you may as well get something out of it. But, listen, if you win $1,000 because of this shit, I at least except a thank you card. Deal?

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Five Funniest Videos I Have Ever Seen, Ever

I posted this on Facebook, and decided since I can't be bothered to run this weekend, I'll share videos with you guys instead:

5. David Blane: Street Magic. Part 2 is equally funny. You don't have to be super familiar with David Blane to appreciate the parody, but it helps. I feel like this video shouldn't be as funny as it is.

4. Rubberbandits: Horse Outside The first time I watched this music video I spent the whole four minutes staring, jaw open, at the screen. What the fuck did I just watch. Is this in English? Is that guy wearing a plastic bag over his face? (I don't know, yes, yes). Upon dozens of rewatches I was able to make out most of the words, but not much else.

3. Upright Citizens Brigade: Fortune Cookie Adding "in bed" is nearly ubiquitous when it comes to fortune cookies these days. In college we used to add "on a horse" or "in a box" instead. I assume that had something to do with being in rural Ohio. I can still remember the weekend an old boyfriend introduced me to UCB. It was amazing. It was beautiful. It was hilarious. This is sort of a Twilight Zone version of the Twilight Zone version of fortune cookies fortunes gone wrong.

2. UCB: Ass Pennies There is no proper way to describe or introduce this sketch. It is, perhaps, the single greatest advice on how to exceed in the business world.

1. Herrrmerrn's School of French Kissing for Dogs Catch-22 is my favorite book. It is a work of literary and comedic genius. I have read it so many times that I find myself giggling while reading, not merely because of what just happened, nor simply because of what is happening as I read, but also in anticipation of what is to come. That applies here, too, to this video. It is two minutes and nine seconds of perfection. I have laughed so hard I cried describing this video to other people.

Link to your favorite funny videos.  Or don't.  Fuck your funny videos.  I've a horse outside.