It's Just Abbey

I’ve always had really weird and sometimes oddly specific dreams. There are mornings I wake up knowing I had a strange dream but can’t remember a detail. Then there are mornings that I wake up and remember everything. Someone once suggested I get a dream journal to keep my drugged out dreams in but I fear someone will find it and I will spend my days in a happy padded room.

I say this because I had two dreams this week that I can recall to the T-shirts people were wearing and the sound of their voice. Last night I had a crazy intense dream that I was part of a Nobel Prize winning team of scientists that discovered the cure to cancer. We were all pretty pumped. I was excited because my team included Andrew Lee Potts. Who is Andrew Lee Potts? Oh you…

As we were accepting our Nobel Prize in a very MTV Movie Awards kind of scene SOMETHING WENT TERRIBLY WRONG! Half the room disappeared and the rest of the room turned into a mall. Andrew Lee Potts and I were the only ones who noticed the change.

But that’s not all! All the marine life was gone too and we were the only ones who knew what sharks and jelly fish were! We had to solve this mystery! Andrew Lee Potts and I did what any sensible crime fighting team would do… We went to the leather store to buy crime fighting trench coats. Duh.

As we were being fitted for our custom jackets it became obvious that the little old lady who ran the shop was looking to kill us and eat us! OH NO!

Then I woke up. Okay, damn. I was really looking forward to that story arc. Crazy American chick and wacky British sidekick in slammin’ trench coats! Or would I be the side kick? So many questions unanswered! Ug, moving on...

Well the next dream actually made my life a living hell for a day. Why? Let me explain.

Yesterday, Hoppie and I celebrated our 3 year anniversary. Hooray! I was so excited because we were going to Famous Dave’s and eating our weight in ribs and cornbread. Yes. Yes. YES!

I spent the weeks leading up to our special day texting Hoppie about how excited I was for ribs and diamonds. Diamonds? Yeah, diamonds. This is something I’ve done for every holiday. Mostly because who would buy me a diamond for Easter? It’s just funny to tease and it gives me something to do. So I continued my rich tradition of pretending to be a shallow bint. DIAMONDS!

Well the night before, I cracked. I fell asleep and had a dream that while at Famous Dave’s and while my hands were caked in BBQ sauce Hoppie proposed and thrust a freakishly huge diamond on my finger. Oh, it was so classy and just like I always pictured it... Yeah.

I woke up laughing and thinking I should tell him how hilarious that dream was. Well, that was when the insanity kicked in. What if I am a powerful psychic? What if that was really the plan for the day? Was Hoppie secretly rich but also lacking any romance? OH GOD.

I grabbed my little gift and headed to meet him at his house. As I reached for the doorknob the door swung open and there was Hoppie in his nicest shirt and shoes. He was wearing his fancy watch and exclaimed, “It’s about time!” Standing there surprisingly underdressed in a Tshirt and jeans I started to panic. There on the table was the most adorable teddy bear and he was holding red roses.

WAS THE RING IT THE ROSE?! OH GOD!

Breathe Abbey. The bear was just a bear holding roses. Nothing to flip out about, girl. Calm down. It was just a dream.

So I clutched the bear and we got into his car to head out for ribs. We got there after a while (and getting lost) and I bounced in blabbering about how weird it was that a pig was holding a cooked slab of ribs. We got into our little booth and ordered big beers and big food.

“You look bored.”

“What? I’m not bored.”

“Here.”

There is was sitting in front of me. A gold box with a gold bow and a jewelry store logo on it.

Ummmm…

Enter the 10 seconds of thought while I tore into the box.

Okay. It’s too big to be a ring. He wouldn’t just hand me a ring. There would be a speech. Would there be? Hoppie’s not really a speech guy. But he is traditional right? He'd be on his knee! Is he on his knee? No. What a jerk! IT WAS JUST A DREAM! Too big to be a ring box. He didn’t wrap this. No. This was special wrapped. Why would he special wrap something not a ring. OH GOD! There are so many layers! What if there is a box in a box in a box in a box in box with a ring! Isn’t this how that works? Unsuspecting girl? Box with a ring? OH GOD!

Okay, no one freak out. It was a bracelet. A very gorgeous bracelet that was gold and actually had diamonds in it. My boyfriend has wonderful taste in jewelry.

First of all, it wasn’t a ring. YAY! Why yay? Because now I can keep complaining about my engaged/married friends without being a hypocrite. (Seriously guys, it is insanity!) Second, there has to be a pill to deal with this kind of psychosis. Third, he managed to get that golden box into the restaurant without me noticing. Damn that pig holding ribs! You distracted me! Fourth, I have magical powers. My dream was a little off but I did get jewelry! And a teddy bear that I named Butch Coolidge because he has a cute pot belly. Score.

I ended up telling Hoppie about the dream and he reassured me that he was classy enough to at least propose to me in a place that didn’t say, “Here the 3 little pigs aren’t a nursery rhyme, they’re the appetizer!”

And also, if you were actually thinking I got engaged I'll give you a little tip. Posts like that will be on CAPS LOCK FOREVER! Besides, I can't weave stories and make words work when I get excited. You'll know. :)

I am so glad I don’t have a child. I would be a terrible mom. I’m not rich enough to provide the therapy to my kid that he/she will probably need.

Let’s talk about Patrick.

As you saw from my last Patrick post, he was bearing beautiful strawberries but they were eaten by birds. I knew I should have gotten a net to put over him to protect him from the birds but NOOOO I’m too lazy/cheap to provide my baby with proper defenses before kicking him into the real world.

He was unprotected and alone. Bullied by giant birds who laughed at his pain. CRUEL BASTARDS!

Then I had to leave. Vacation and wedding in New Jersey. It was just a weekend away. That’s all, nothing serious. Why should I worry? Why should I freak out?

That was the first weekend it was 90 degrees and humid as all hell. All Hoppie had to do was water him or so we thought. Before I headed home I texted Hoppie asking him how Patrick was doing. The response?

“Uh, he’s looking a little droopy.”

PANIC! I hit the gas and hurried home. What was the lesson learned about this weekend away? Patrick does not need 100% sunlight. He was scorched. His leaves were all dry and curly. I pulled him into the shade and ran to the store to get him plant food.

That’s right. I’m that mom. Yes baby, I know I forgot you at soccer practice for 7 hours but don’t worry champ, we are getting ice cream!

So for the rest of the month I tried to baby the hell out of him. Plant food, nice water, equal parts shade and sun. He wasn’t happy with me but he flourished. His leaves perked up and his vines grew nice and thick. There was only one problem, no strawberries.

He wouldn’t bear any fruit. No matter how much I nurtured him, he wouldn’t cooperate. He became my little goth kid who wouldn’t talk to me. He was fine and in good spirits but just ignored me. But who am I to judge him, the eyeliner doesn’t look terrible. Do what you want Patrick, just TALK TO ME!

Then for the 4th of July Hoppie and I went on a road trip to Oklahoma and Texas for a week. We had people to watch the house, the garden and make sure no one robs our stuff.

We left in high hopes that all would be well. Four days into the trip, on our way to Texas I started to freak out. I had the feeling no one had tended to Patrick. Was he okay? Is he dying? Did he run away? Did the babysitter smoke too much weed and Patrick was playing too close to the pool? We made a few calls and it became devastatingly clear that no one had looked after him. LEFT AT SOCCER PRACTICE AGAIN!

I texted my mom to handle him on her lunch. I got this picture back with the response, "I'm sure he'll perk up..."

I’m not sure how to explain to you my reaction. I was on the highway in Texas to visit my little brother who I hadn’t seen in months and I was tearing up about a plant.

We got home after a long trip cross-country and I ran up the steps to see Patrick looking displeased but alright. I ran inside and grabbed the plant food. It is a spray bottle. Well, screw that! I pulled off the top and dumped it into the soil. I’ll never leave you again Patrick! I am so sorry! Mommy will never let anyone hurt you again! I’m looking at you birds and sun! Leave Patrick ALONE!

Worry not everyone, he is looking fabulous now. See?

But still no strawberries. He is still on strike. He is my little rebellious teenager. I hope he grows out of this phase and somehow realizes how hard it is to be a mom. We make mistakes, honey!

Don’t worry guys, I scheduled him for therapy starting Monday.

Yesterday I got about 4 rapid spam comments on my blog. Whenever this happens I get an email to my phone saying, “NEW COMMENT!” My heart leaps until I read that it is a spam bot giving me a vague few sentences about how well researched my posts are and then using a word like Buddy, Pal, or Friend. Thank you Jordan Shoe Outlet. We really have been friends for years, it is great to see you still read my blog.

OH WAIT.

Then I got all bummed out and curious why no one ever comments on my blog anymore. Then I realized that to get comments I have to post things. Blech. Can’t I just reap the rewards with none of the work? Isn’t that the American dream?

Inspired by Emily, I felt I should explain my absence and express to you that I am in fact guilty about not posting. It isn’t that I don’t have things to talk about! No really, I have all kinds of adventures to blab on and on about. Here is a list of things to come!

THINGS TO COME

-Abbey, Hoppie and Little Brother in Dallas and poor Googling habits
-Patrick’s soap opera life (Spoiler: He may have an evil twin!)
-The road trip that turned into a night at sea
-Abbey vs Hills: A Tragedy in 2 Acts
-Hoppie and my garden that we have named Audrey II
-Canoe trips and Jello Shots

See? Look at all that crap I have to say! I clearly have plenty to talk about. So why am I not blogging?

Because I am a lazy A-Hole who can’t find the time to write about things because I am too busy watching Gilmore Girls and crocheting a blanket. I know it is 100 degrees out but damnit, I need this blanket! Sure I could go to the store and buy one but where is the fun/blistered fingers in that?

Okay, it is only 50% lazy that keeps me from here. The other 50% comes from my marathon training. Running/training takes up a lot of my energy and the thought of sitting at my laptop writing bums me out. The thought of sitting at my laptop cruising the internet with a glazed look on my face, on the other hand, is quite appealing. After this weekend I vow, promise and pinky swear that I will start blogging more. I want to, I really do. The book deal and TV sitcom spin off of my blog can only happen if I keep on writing!

So please enjoy your weekend my friends. Hydrate and SPF up because the sun is trying to kill us all. I will return next week with stories and epic blog posts from Epicville.

PS Two things. First, I didn't proof read any of this. Feel free to point out and harass me for any an all spelling errors, comma splices and other grammar fails. Second, how great is this season of True Blood?

PSS Here is a pic I drew a while back. Enjoy and consider it a gift from my absence.

I’m going to level with you guys. This was not a fun race for yours truly. I won’t try to sugar coat this one at all.

Now, first of all on the registration form it had an option to “Adopt a Duck.” What does that mean? Well it means either…

A) …as part of the charity event you get to “buy” a little rubber duck, they load them into a big truck and dump them in the river for a duck race!

B) …you get a live duckling to take home, name Charles Duckingsworth Jr and let him live in the bathtub.

Guess which one I honestly thought it was? I really thought I could opt to buy a real, live duck! I mean, the money is for charity. I would be adopting a duck… For the children. Aww. But no. It was some crap about a rubber duck and the river. I kind of pieced together what I think was going on but once you find out that you just bought $50 worth of duck food for nothing, it kind of kills your buzz.

Anywho, so I showed up to the race all ready to go. I had been snacking on strawberries and kiwi on my way up and I felt excellent. My training so far had been all about increasing mileage so I thought I had this in the bag. I wasn’t really gunning for a personal record or to shock the world and win it all, but I was hoping for a solid race. Something to look at my fitness level I suppose.

Enter: Abbey’s Stomach of DOOM

My stomach has become a lazy troll that lives under a bridge. Most days I can just stroll on by and it just grunts sluggishly while I pass on through. Some days though my stomach wakes up on the wrong side of the bridge and it starts swinging the FUCK YOU stick around like a Terrible Towel in Pittsburg. (Oh Jesus that reference… SORRY GUYS!)

I signed up for the race, got my t-shirt and started my pre-race warm ups and stretching. I was feeling good. I took a few swigs of water and I was off to the start line. They announced that there was a minute to the gun. I started bouncing a little to elevate my heart rate a tad, a handy trick I found makes my life a lot easier.

NOT TODAY! Look! From under the bridge! What it that thing and why does it have a stick!?

I bounced once and my stomach lurched. I hesitated and bounced again. Another lurch. I thought maybe I just drank too fast and tried to burp or something. Nothing happened other than my stomach getting angrier. I poked it, bounced around, stretched and everything I could think of in the 45 seconds I had before the gun fired. It stayed the same.

Oh boy, here we go.

The gun fired and I took off hoping that the pain was all in my head or would go away. I knew I was lying to myself to think either one but hey, you pay to run 3 miles you try to stay positive! The first mile I stayed at my race pace and had I maintained it I would have given my personal best a run for its money but it wasn’t in the cards.

As I started mile 2 it felt like there was a balloon being inflated slowly in my abdomen. There was so much pressure from the center of my body pressing out I just wanted to punch myself in the gut and make it go away. Even in pain I knew that wasn’t the wisest route so I carried on only losing a bit of speed. My only goal was to keep the race under 30 minutes.

From the start of the 3rd mile until the finish line I was convinced my appendix had burst. The pain was blinding but I didn’t stop running. I thought a few things. First that if my appendix really did burst I would pass out sooner or later. Second, if I stopped now I would have to walk or wait for someone to come to me. It was better to tough it out and make it to the end. I convinced myself that if I was still running, I wasn’t in that much pain.

I dashed to the finish line with all my energy and stopped my watch. I was supposed to have a gun time and a chip time but all they listed was my gun time. My watch recorded chip time and that is the time I adhere to:

28:32

All in all, not bad for running in a haze of pain and discomfort. I hobbled over to the food area and got some fruit and water. I stayed for some of the awards mostly just waiting to see if the pain would die down. When I realized it wouldn’t I got in my car and drove home. It felt like the longest drive ever.

I have been putting off this report mostly to access my health status. I wanted to know what was ailing me but for the life of me I don’t know. I will say that that night I was up for hours with crazy heart burn and the next day I was eating Tums like candy. I spent the weekend off running because all the heart burn and trauma ate up my esophagus so bad it hurt to bend my torso. Interesting problems I know.

So I don’t know what happened, I wish I knew. It is easier to keep the troll under the bridge if I knew what lured him out in the first place.

Either way I was happy with my time and my determination. I am getting faster and more stubborn by the mile! Hopefully the next race will be a little less severe. Fingers crossed!

And. She. Is. BACK!

Okay, guys I have been gone for about a month. Where have I been? I have been marathon training and writing. Aaaaand that's about it.

The marathon training isn’t too eventful. I run. The end.

Writing wise I’ve been working on editing my old NaNoWriMo novels and starting a new one. The new one is a little less creepy than my NaNos. (Seriously, what is wrong with me in November? BLOOD AND SOCIAL CHANGE! Yes! Let’s write about that!!!!) I have been trying to blog and write but for some reason I can’t do both. I took a small hiatus to focus on my super important writing.

Then the other day I was sitting at work when my phone beeped. Oh! I know that sound! Someone @ replied to me on Twitter! OH HAPPY DAY!

@Just_Abbey Dear Abbey, Please blog more. Kthxbyeeeeeee. Love, Annie

Someone misses me! So if you are thinking to yourself, “Man, I wish Abbey would blog more…” Whelp, you can thank Annie for that very stern kick in the ass to get in gear! Say it with me kids, Thanks Annie!

So I thought about what to blog about in my big comeback and I sat here at my laptop. I have nothing guys. I’ve been traveling, growing a garden, tending to the growth of Patrick and I can’t seem to get my words out. How do you get Writer’s Block about real life? It seems like such an odd problem.

Then I started thinking about how I got into writing in the first place. Oh dear sweet baby Jesus, buckle up everyone! Let me take you in my time machine of shame.

In my tender youth as an eighth grader I had one friend. Let’s think of a code name for her…. I’d call her Crazy Pants but that part of the story is for another day… Her code name will be… Screw it, her name was Ashley.

Ashley and I were all we had in the world. Both outcasts in the turbulent years of puberty and gossip. We were an odd pair to be honest. I was bursting out of my personality shell and she was shy and timid. These traits worsened over time but again, another time. Our one common bond was NSync.

Yeah, you read that right. NSync. Five gorgeous men dancing together singing songs about life and love. Who wasn’t in love with them?

One night after staying awake to watch the boy band’s latest performance we started babbling about how AWESOME it would be if NSync’s tour bus was driving by then broke down in front of the house! AND THEN they didn’t have a cell phone so they needed to stay with us for the WHOLE weekend. THEN, oh, THEN they thought we were so totes cool so they ask us to go on tour with them! Oh they lives we would live!

So my awkward self bounded home the next day and then wrote our tale. Twelve pages of pure magic written in orange glitter gel pen. I only wrote as far as we had discussed so the last page concluded with “… TO BE CONTINUED???” I gave it to Ashley and she looked at me with her big glassy eyes and told me to keep writing.

And that was how I survived the remainder of 8th grade. Every day in seventh period study hall I would write her one more page in the story. Over the weekends I would write about 5 pages. It was always written on standard, three hole, lined paper (you know, so I could write but look like I was doing homework. I was like James Bond of fan fiction…) and it each page was a different color gel pen.

Let’s all take a moment to remember gel pens and how freaking awesome they were. Anyone who was anyone had at least a dozen different colors. I had a few but Ashley was the queen bee of gel pens. She had a Detroit Red Wings cup that she had every gel pen imaginable in. Each different series were rubber banded together to help with organization. Milky gel, glitter gel, metallic gel, bold gel, pastel gel, gels that climbed on rocks. She was extremely protective of those pens. Each day before study hall I was allowed to use one and it had to be returned to her by the next class along with the page of sweet NSync story. She never really trusted me with those pens and who wouldn't? I get easily confused and tend to eat things at random. She was just being careful.

By the end of the year it was all carried in a giant, blue three ring binder. It was bursting at the binding with a rainbow colored story. She carried that thing with her everywhere. I was never clear if she was worried that I would give her a page randomly and she would need to file it immediately or if she had the same worry I did about locker safety. If anyone in our class had found that book we would still be swinging from the flag pole by our underwear to this day.

Now here was the thing about this story I concocted. It didn’t make a lick of sense. There was no plot. It was just a series of events that subscribed to no known calendar of time. Things just happened as I saw fit and that’s the way it was. Most of it was just stuff to keep us amused and survive the hell hole that was our lives at the time. So what if we had hopes that our 16 Candles romance with the quarterback of the football team never panned out? We were dating NSync! Take that you football playing asshole! Who’s a dogface now?! HUH!?

Breathe Abbey.

Anyway, that was my big break into writing and it was one of my favorite memories of junior high school. No wait, scratch that. That was my only happy memory of junior high. It was something that got me through the days and notebook paper was way cheaper than therapy! Huzzah! I didn’t care if it didn’t make any sense and I still don’t. I just loved escaping to my fantasy world where I was 18 and freakishly hot. And to give you a taste of the gems in that story (that I now realize never had a title…) here are a few.

-Justin once tried to make Ashley pancakes but he can’t cook! What happened? They turned out hard as rocks and broke someone’s toe!! LOLZ!

-The guys had a 10 foot tall body guard named Clyde that did my bidding.

-I had an ongoing prank war with Lance that usually involved Clyde or trapping him in closets. The second part is much funnier currently than it was then.

-There were three villains. Two girls who may or may not have been modeled after the two most popular girls in our class who we may or may not have thrown in a pool and got into fist fights with. (NSync likes their ladies classy.) And the third was Britney Spears. We did many terrible things to her too and I blame myself for her bald K-Fed days. Sorry Brit!

Yup. Compelling stuff right there! Anyway, I finished it over the summer and I was so proud of the ending. It was all a dream!

GONG!

Ashley didn’t like it as much. Mostly because it took her a few reads to get what I was saying. I don’t have a copy of the story but the ending went something like this….

“Ashley sat up in bed with a jolt. She looked at the clock and realized it was only 3am. She groaned to herself and glanced down at the floor. There was her best friend, blonde hair strewn about. Ashley glanced at her ankle to see the faded flame tattoos they had drawn on were fading. Ink pens didn’t last forever. She glanced at all the posters on her wall and smiled to herself. Wrapping herself in her blankets she fell back into dreamland hoping to have another amazing dream.”

I had never been prouder. It was my big M Night Shyamalan ending! What a twist! Ashley was pissed and wanted a rewrite but I wouldn’t. I was an artist and my work remains untainted. I had never done a rewrite before, why start now?

So there it is guys. That was how it all started and I’m not going to lie to any of you and tell you that it was my last NSync fan fiction. I also won’t try to convince you that I don’t have an NSync blanket that I still use on rainy days and text Hoppie about how I am cuddling with 5 guys. I also won’t say that I don’t know all the moves to Bye Bye Bye and once preformed it at a Homecoming Dance.

Now if you’ll all excuse me I have to go take a drive and belt out the lyrics to It’s Gonna Be Me for an hour and a half.

CURSE YOU BIRDS!!!

Yesterday was another exciting adventure in running. I attended the Couch Potato 5K in Bowling Green, Ohio.

Let me just be clear and say it was hot, humid and generally unpleasant outside. Humidity is my kryptonite. I can run in heat, cold, ice, wind and rain with little issue. Humidity makes me all sticky and hate life. Blech. Yesterdays humidity was at 90% before the race. Everyone seemed really glad that it didn’t rain. Those people are insane.

So I went to this race solo so no action shots yet. If they post any race photos I will come back to edit the post.

So! I ventured off to my old stomping ground with spirits high. I got there and managed to not only bring everything I needed but also not get lost on my way there. I know, I am as shocked as you are. I bounced into the community center, got all my stuff and started my prerace jogging and stretching. And since this was my old college town I downed a few margarita energy gels. Can I get a hell yeah?!

Let me take this moment to fill you in on a recurring dream I had been having since my last race. It involves me having super long legs and running like a gazelle. Swift, long strides with perfect form and zooming around a race track. This was an awesome dream until the dream started evolving into me in a race with a very snide girl who went out of her way to beat me and mock my running style. This was an upsetting look into my subconscious. I have no idea what that dream meant or if it has ANYTHING to do with my race but I felt like now was a good time to tell someone about it. You’re welcome. Anyone know a therapist? Let me know.

Back to the real race, stood at the start line with the other 500+ people and was feeling strong. I had a great breakfast, my stomach was idling mercifully well and I was perfectly hydrated. The gun sounded and we were off!

I was feeling stupidly confident after my awesome race last week. I had resolved that that race wasn’t too short and I was just faster than a speeding bullet. Wrong! The course in Findlay was short and my confidence was a tad out of place. Don’t get me wrong, I am awesome. I’m just not THAT awesome.

Yet.

My first mile I set a pace I couldn’t keep and reality and the humidity started setting in. I pulled back a touch and tried to stay positive. I checked my vitals at the 1.5 mile mark.

Stomach: Normal
Ponytail: Still surprisingly stationary
Hydration: Dwindling
Face: Dumping buckets of sweat like a man with a hole in his canoe
Legs: Going strong
Lungs: Gasping though the muggy weather but still functioning

My whole body felt like it weighed 400 pounds with the humidity weighing down. I kept pushing staying confident because even though I felt like I was trudging through a marsh, I was still keeping a decent pace.

Enter the part of the race where I determine that I hate running and eating my legs would be a better use of the muscles. New safer hobby: Stamp collecting.

I raced by the water stop being run by some adorable small children. I grabbed and ran. I have no idea how to run and drink. I know this. I KNEW THIS! But I threw the cup towards my mouth and caught what I could. While my shirt caught most of it I did manage to hack and wheeze a few ounces down. I bounded on.

Final mile: I was slowing down again. Damn it. I really need to learn to taper better.

I came around the final bend trying to push the last bit out. When I did I heard the cutest thing ever. A guy and girl were running side by side:

Girl: You can go finish.
Guy: No. I’m going to finish with you.

I don’t know, but at that moment, it made me smile.

I saw the finish and sprinted with all I had left. I overcame one guy and then crossed the finish line. I felt awesome. That’s just the way races go right? No matter how the race goes, the best part is crossing that finial line. I was handed a popsicle stick with my place number on and someone patted me on the back. Then two boys handed me my Finisher’s Ribbon. Yay!

27:42.

Okay, so not my best race but far, far from my worst. It was still a great time for me and clear I my training is improving. It is also clear that my last race wasn’t measured right.

So I grabbed some food and sat around to not win anything in the raffle. Stupid raffles… No official results posting yet but I am pretty sure I came in fourth in my age group. Another yay!

I need to work on holding a pace because I just… cant. I RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN then I fade back into a normal pace. I also need to work on my form. I bought myself some swanky new Vibram Five Fingers. From my non-running readers, in the simplest terms, they are a glove for your feet to give you the barefoot running experience. I have so far put 4 miles on them and can I say one thing? Damn my legs hurt. I was hobbling around today much to the amusement of Hoppie.

News: I am unofficially training for 2 marathons now at the request of Phedre. We are looking to do a few races over the summer and perhaps a marathon in Dayton sometime in September then turn around with the marathon on October. Insane? Maybe not for some people. Probably for me though. Will I do it? Oh silly readers. You know me better than that to ask a question like that. Of course!

We also may be running one in a tutu. Details later.

Now if you don’t mind, I am going to soak my feet and drink a beer.

So last night my littlest sister graduated from preschool. They had the world’s most adorable ceremony that just tugged at the heart.

It was one of those things I sat through looking like someone’s mom. Little babies everywhere and my biological clock was screaming, “HEY! HEY YOU! If you were in a Bronte novel you would be the old maid who no one likes because she is passed her prime!” I hate it when that happens because then I start flipping out and debating just stealing a child.

I mean, the pros of having a baby. There is only one actually: I get to get fat. Cheetos and pickles for me I’m eating junk for two!

Cons of having a baby: I’ll drop it. I’ll feed it to a dragon by mistake. I’ll leave it in Wal Mart in the frozen food section, someone will think it’s a pot pie and buy it. Ug! So many things can go wrong! I have kept Patrick alive and he is bearing beautiful strawberry babies. So far so good. Let’s work on that shall we? Growing a person takes a whole different mindset and I can’t just keep that on the porch all day while I am at work… Legally.

During the little ceremony they all announced what they wanted to be when they grew up. What did my little sister say? What did my small, spritely kindred who looks terrifyingly like my daughter say? She wants to be a mommy.

Hello. You have a collect call. It is from… “HEY! IT’S YOUR UTERUS! BABIES ARE AWESOME!” Do you accept? Uh, yeah. No. Click!

So what is this all getting at? Well it has come up the topic about getting a dog. WHAT? You read that right. A dog.

Now, this is all just talk. Nothing serious. Yet. Why? Because getting a dog is huge step. Think about it. You have a kid, what do you do with it? For the first year it is just a ball of flesh that just cries a lot. Just don’t smack it on the top of the head, right? Yeah. They don’t get too weird until they start walking and sticking their fingers in electric sockets. Puppies are insane from day one. They just wanna pee all over and putting a diaper on them just angers them.

Do you have to walk babies? No. Dogs need walked.

Do babies need neutered and dewormed? Not right away.

Do babies kill squirrels in your back yard? Only if trained properly.

So we have been talking about the logistics and with our recent schedule changes, it might be possible. So what have I been doing?

Googling puppy pictures!

If it were up to me and I wasn’t super concerned about puppy farms (like the concerned citizen I am) what kind of dog would I get? This one!

I would name him Jeffery. Or I would get this dog!

And name him Frank. And also get him a little tux.

But that isn’t reality. We will likely adopt an adult dog. Save one from animal rescue. So I have been cruising local animal shelters looking for doggies to save.

Let me tell you I have confused my biological clock something serious. I want to adopt them all! Every single one of them. The puppies to the seniors. Healthy and sickly. I want to get a house in the country and let them just run and be free! If you read any of the little stories you would want one too!

Hi. My name is Boots. My owners loved me for 4 years then just woke up one day and said, “Whelp! You suck!” They kicked me out and found a new doggy. I am really shy and I just want to be loved but no one can get passed my weak leg I got after saving a blind girl in a fire. Please take me home or they are going to put me down. Tomorrow. HURRY!

I know the point is to get you to want to take them home but damn. Harsh.

It’s actually kind of important to me that we rescue a dog. Hoppie’s mom helps rescue dogs and over the Christmas season we helped take care of a GIANT dog named Moe. That dog smelled, was dependent, and could not sleep through the night. I loved that dog. She was awesome. As dogs go, by the end of it we started calling her Mobert. She had a questionable history that just made her big eyes and whimper hard to handle. You just wanted to hug her all the time. If we get a dog I want to rescue it. I want to save a dog that was forgotten by his owners or treated poorly. Public service announcement: If you want a dog, I suggest you do the same.

Okay. This post has been derailed completely. This was going somewhere other than I want a dog but yeah. What can I say to end this post? Hell, I don’t know. Um… Be my fan! I mean… Like me? Stupid Facebook. Like my blog! I will send you money* and muffins**!

*Probably not
**If I’m not giving you my money, why would I give you my muffins?

Let me rant for a moment (Abbey ranting? HOW UNUSUAL!) I am tired of everyone telling me what is bad for me. If I want to eat Chinese food 3 times a day for the entire month that is MY business, not yours. It may kill me but it is my choice.

Almost every time I go to the vending machine at work someone walks by and feels the need to comment. “That stuff is no good for you!” or “That’ll go to your hips!” or “That is nothing but junk!” Thank you everyone but you know what? I don’t care. I am 24 years old and my metabolism hasn’t betrayed my yet. I plan to live it up. Plus I run. A lot. Meaning I need calories to burn. The saturated fats and ridiculously high sodium content are just perks.

End rant.

So this commercial has bothered me for a while...

Why? Because butter rules! I do enjoy I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter but it is not a complete substitute. You wanna know how I know? Before microwave popcorn can prebuttered (which still really sucks, FYI) my mom and I would melt down half a stick of butter and pour it onto our popcorn. What? How do you guys watch Ghost and Grease on a Friday night?

The other day I raided the fridge while making popcorn and found no butter! Correction. I found a lot of really bad 2009 butter because cleaning out your fridge is for squares. I did find some ICBINB! Success! I melted some down and drenched my popcorn.

MIIIIISTAAAKE!

Two words guys: Nass. Tea. It was really gross and greasy. One sore tummy for Abbey for the rest of the evening. Butter rules. It cannot be replaced and I know for sure.

BUTTER + ABBEY BFFS 4LIFE!

Oooh.. and bacon. If butter is my best friend, bacon is my strikingly handsome boyfriend who rides a motorcycle and volunteers at an orphanage full of blind kids.

Bacon is yummy, tasty and wicked fun to cook. What is there to say?! It is way tasty and chock full of awesome. But you know what is terrible? Fake bacon! You know… tofu bacon, that weird stuff you can microwave but don’t need to refrigerate? Blech!

But besides being scrumptious and deadly to cook shirtless, bacon is the only thing worth pairing with EVERY breakfast foods. Eggs? Add bacon. Muffins? Add bacon! Bacon? MORE BACON! Woo!

One day I will have to watch my bacon and butter intake but that day is not today. What was this post about you ask? This post is mostly about wanting to show off this picture. And yes, be prepared for more pictures. Drawing is therapeutic and you will all suffer for it! MAWHAHA!

This picture inspired by this video! Oh! Two videos in one post! Happy Monday!

So yesterday was a nice rainy day inside. I spent the day chill-axing in front of the computer as I tend to do (no matter what the weather is) and I stumbled upon this picture.

Let's take a poll. Who is currently sitting at their computer like that? Hmmm? Wow. No one raised their hands. Awesome. And look at that guy. He looks so uptight and serious. I can tell you what that guy isn't doing and that is trolling 4chan or porn sites. No one can properly troll the web sitting that straight! No one can casually work on homework that was due yesterday in that position either.

Being disgusted with that picture I drew my own.

Two things. First, I don't want to hear it about the desk. I spent WAY too long trying to get the perspective right and finally gave up. Really wish I would have paid more attention in art class. Abstract art! Yes. Okay, second point. Anyone who knows me for real may think this picture resembles someone I may know. To that I say, I have no idea what you are talking about. TA DA!

I was going to add my rules to the picture but this way is easier and doesn't cover up my sheer artistic genius! Here we go:

~*~
How to Sit at the Computer by Abbey!

- Who wears pants at the computer?! No one worth knowing, that's who.

- While you may not be wearing pants, wear a shirt. It gets cold and pants are for squares.

- Slouching is key. Have you ever tried to sit up straight for hours at a time? It is exhausting. Slouching is comfy! Everyone is so concerned about keeping things the same. Sure, we all stood up straight in the 1970s and the ozone used to be solid. Sometimes things just get old! Let this happen. My generation will grow up to be leather faced, botox laden, hunchbacks who aren't 100% sure what a polar bear is. Slouch and be merry!

- Who needs a foot rest? Stretch one leg and keep one bent. Not only does this help your perfect slouching position it is also a great way to keep your muscles working. After an hour switch legs. Who says we aren't active enough?

- While not illustrated, be sure to have all the lights off and let the monitor be your only source of light. That pasty, blueish pale color a real computer geek acquires stems from sitting in darkness and basking in monitor glow.

- Elbows bent at 90 degrees? That will really hurt your shoulders if you are slouched properly. Don't do it.

- Another thing no illustrated is where to keep your work. Who has something that attaches to your monitor? That sounds like a lot of morons putting magnets on their computers and being very confused with the outcome. No. All your work should be scattered and flat on the desk. This was not drawn in because no one would have been able to see the correct posture or anything else in the picture. Clutter is also another great way to keep the mind and body busy. Looking for something? Chances are you have no idea where it is and will spend a while looking for it. Activity. Boom.

~*~

So there you have it kids. That is how you sit at a computer. It isn't even something you need to think about because chances are you are already sitting like that. So don't listen to people tell you about sore backs, aching muscles and whatever the hell "ergonomic" means. You can tell those people to stop being such worry warts and just be happy. Yay slouching!