It's Just Abbey

So Health Care reform! You know what that means! Time for Abbey to talk about her various ailments!

Okay, in the last few entries I have referenced my stomach of doom. I feel the need to explain because, well, I will be talking about my tummy a lot. It is a large part of my life and hangs out with me when I don’t want it too. Like a TV sitcom little sister but we rarely sit down, hug it out and I agree to include her more.

Let’s start with the beginning. When I was in high school I found myself oddly full of burps. I would sit in math class during tests and little burps from nowhere would come up. They typically arose when I was stressed and for some ungodly reason I was always sure they were silent. Yeah, not so much. I wonder why I was never popular.

Then in college my little burping problem evolved into loud and inconvenient burping, stressed or otherwise. It was so frustrating. I would burp when I was full, hungry, kinda hungry, not hungry, pretty much anytime. And it was college so I soon discovered being under the influence of alcohol made it worse. Beer in particular. Nothing to be concerned about right? WRONG!

I did go to the doctor with slight pains and he asked my diet. I told him my usual college, dorm dwelling diet. I mentioned that I was a fan of eating chicken wings while watching Adult Swim. “Well there’s your problem! No eating chicken wings after midnight! Thanks that will be $10,000!” So there you have it, I’m a gremlin. Case closed.

One night while in the dorm with Phedre and my then boyfriend, let’s call him AssFace (btw my now ex-boyfriend), I keeled over in wild abdominal pain. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think and I was crying like a little girl lost in WalMart. Phedre and AssFace carried me to the car and we were off to the hospital. Once I got there they started asking me a million questions while I was bent over sobbing. I was actually convinced my appendix had burst and they were asking me about my sex life. Jesus. I was pissed off and the famous exchange that happened that night was after the nurse asked me if I was addicted to any street drugs I ran my hand under my nose, snorted loudly and said, “Nope,” in my best crack addict voice. The poor girl looked horrified.

After that, since I am a girl between the ages of 15-30, I must be pregnant. That pain was clearly either a miscarriage of an ovary exploding. Now, I didn’t get an awesome grade in biology but when the pain is just under my ribs I am pretty sure my lady parts are not involved but I’m not a doctor, what do I know? Either way I got the happy pills and was laid down to sleep it off. But I of course resisted them and tried to stay awake and mumble random things. “I think that if Abe Lincoln ate Pop Tarts he would go for the strawberry. Without frosting. Lincoln doesn’t need all that raz-mataz on his Pop Tarts” and yelling at the nurse for not having yellow sharpie markers.

This is where things get fuzzy. I blacked out and kept waking up to terrible things. Remember, I went in with raging stomach issues and professed this loudly. I woke up with my legs propped up in stirrups, a towel over my legs and metal in my cootch. I looked down and a handsome young doctor peeked up and said, “All looks good down here,” and gave me a thumbs up. A THUMBS UP! Like he was checking my oil level in my car. All I could say was awesome and pass back out.

Then I woke up in a different bed and a woman was holding a giant phallic thing/probe and she was lubing it up. “Don’t worry, it isn’t as scary as it looks.” Oh, well that is okay but… hey! Where are you planning to put that in? Noooooo!

That ultrasound machine owes me dinner.

Surprise surprise, they found nothing wrong. I went through a thousand tests. I swallowed a gallon and a half of barium, x-rays, CAT scans, and all kinds of fun things. Guess what they found? Nothing. Everything in my body was in tip top shape. Oh joy.

I went to checkups where my doctor would press on my stomach, point at my belly button piercings and say, “Well there’s your problem! Metal Toxicity!” Hurr hurr hurr. What the hell is wrong with me, bro!? This isn’t funny! At one point they said I had ulcers and gave me two antibiotics. One that caused insomnia and one that caused severe fatigue. Let me tell you about a hellish combo of side effects. Also not to mention the fatigue causing one made everything I ate taste like nickels. Blech.

Jump ahead a year to me being unable to keep food in my stomach and losing weight fast. Same thing, different year. Guess what? “Oh, well that sliding hiatal hernia you have is acting up again.” My what now? Oh yes. It seems they had diagnosed me with all kinds of things but didn’t tell me or help me. They didn’t tell me that my stomach for whatever reason doesn’t close right. So I went back to a doctor and he said it was completely normal. But I burp all the time. Yup, normal. I sometimes throw up for no reason. Yup, normal. So there you have it kids, I am 24 years old and burp all the time. Normal.

Hoppie and Delta have a running joke that when I start burping you have 10 minutes to put food in my stomach before my stomach explodes and I ruin the day with my whining. So I can’t eat certain things, I am the master of puking and rallying when we are out drinking, and I burp ALL THE TIME. It is very charming.

This is half the reason I kept running after I ran my marathon. Running keeps my stomach issues to a minimum. It helps me process food and keep it from screwing with my sliding hiatal hernia. You know, that thing that they won’t fix and everyone has. Right.

So there you have it, internets. That is the problem that plagues my life. I have a stomach that looks like this.

I also really don’t like getting wet and I really hate bright lights.

So last week I ran the Beer Bottle Open. It was a four mile race in Columbus Grove. An annual event with beer, stew and running. Huzzah!

I have been putting off this race report for one solid reason. If I had written that report right afterward it would have sounded like this:

I WILL NEVER GET WARM AGAIN! I WILL NEVER GET DRY! SOMEONE SAW OFF MY FOOT! I QUIT RUNNING FOREVER! SOMEONE KILL ME!

Okay, so that may have given some of that away. Let me explain.

It was 30 degrees and raining. No. It was sleeting. No. It was… what’s the word? Oh, it was cold and DOOMING out. On top of that I was convinced that spaghetti was an awesome idea for lunch.

MIIIIIISTAAAAAKE! (Yeah, this is gonna be a thing.)

I met up with Tank and we gathered with the other 500 people. I had a fight with my Garmin and it came on only just as the race started. We took off. To shorten the Abbey vs Tank thing… he took off and I didn’t see him until the finish line. We get it Tank you are fast. Jerk!

Mile one was awesome! Only a light drizzle and a little wind. I was running with a few guys trying to learn to draft off people. I am not good at it. Mostly because they couldn’t keep pace and I damn near died. They were big boys. So I went out on my own. I was on the proper pace: 9:30/mile. Perfect.

::stomach gurgle:: Uh oh.

Mile two. Slowing down. The wind was picking up and so was the rain. I was really glad I didn’t go with the shorts and t-shirt option. Thank you pants! Wait are we going uphill? How is the rain blowing straight at me? Crap, only half way finished? Think about warm stew at the finish line. Mmmm…. Stew.
::stomach gurgle:: Okay. No stew.

Mile three was a blur. All I remember I was cold and my legs weighed a ton.

::stomach gurgle:: Almost there, stomach. You can do it. Throwing up is not an option!

::stomach gurgle:: What did I just say? Keep it down!

Mile four was the longest mile of my life. I was pushing myself as hard as I could. I was soaking wet, I was freezing, and I really wanted to die. I am not sure how they managed it but the race was constantly windier and colder. I know. Abbey is a whiney baby. Shut up. It was cold as hell. And just when it stopped being rainy and cold there was a break. Bliss! I picked up the pace and enjoyed the last half mile and… Ohgodohgodohgod! Manure smell! Everywhere! It’s everywhere!

::stomach gurgle:: I’M SORRY STOMACH! HOLD ON BABY!

The finish line was in sight and I just threw all I had into it and bolted. There was my mom 20 feet from the finish with her warm, gloved hand held out for a high five. Was I going to deny my cake decorating partner a high five? No way. Veered off the path, smacked her a side five and back to the finish line. I crossed the line and gasped for air. I was finished! YAY!

42:18

Okay. Not the time I was aiming for but I finished without walking, I held a decent pace, and didn’t die or vomit. First race of the season a freaking success! I’d do a victory lap but my calves hurt. Tank was waiting for me and all he said was, “I like Guinness!” I’d say he was jackass but to be honest, I would have done the same thing. Birds of a feather, eh?

I finished and my face was frozen in a half smile. I met my parents and Hoppie and we all rejoiced. First race of the year! It was cold, it was miserable, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Next race is in April! Woot! Training ahoy!

Hoppie is a wonderful photographer. This is me finishing, I think. ;)

Remember yesterday I mentioned I was going to get dressed up and hang out around moronic, drunk college kids? I couldn’t have been more correct in that statement. Gather ‘round the fire, children, and I shall tell you a story. I apologize in advance if this is a garbled mess.

First, let me give you some background info. A few years ago after Phedre turned 21 we went to Chicago for St Patrick’s Day shenanigans. By the end of the night I was feeling miserable due to my stomach of doom and my lack of knowledge to control it. I was sick and in pain. We ended up in a bar and I was perched on a chair with my head in my hands hoping to die. Beside us two young men started a scuffle and began to throw each other around. This disrupted my dying process and I was not pleased. I pulled out of my catatonic state, leapt of my chair, threw the two apart and then crawled back to my position in the chair. Leave me to die in peace! Jeez.

I hate meatheads and I really hate drunken meatheads. They are always ruining a good time. I just want to give them all atomic wedgies and fly them up a flag pole. Why? Because they need knocked down a level and they were probably torturing poor nerds in high school. Abbey does not approve.

Fast forward to last night. Okay, I get pretty pumped at the prospect of dressing up. Usually I rock green suspenders, a green wig, boots and a green tie. I don’t get too much attention other than a few curious looks. Last night I tossed that all out a window and put on a little green halter dress, curled my hair and put on some 4-inch green shoes. I won’t lie, I looked damn good.

I went up to my old college town, Hoppie in tow with my good friend, Link, and her fiancé, Pins. We hit a bar, chit chatted and then moved down the street. On our way there I pointed to the bar across the street and mentioned I wanted to go there after because I wanted to see the inside. It is an old theater they gutted out and put a bar in. Only story I have ever heard about said bar is that a girl once lobbed a shot glass at another girl, resulting in the need for plastic surgery. I should have seen this as an omen. Where was the opera guy singing, “MIIIIIISTAAAAAKE!”

So we go to our second establishment and sat down at the bar. A few green beers and car bombs later we got into a random discussion about how Hoppie and I should really have been beaten up more in our lifetimes. It is a running bit between Hoppie and I that if we would have been in more fist fights we wouldn’t be such snarky jerks. This concept was completely lost on Pins. He didn’t get it, nor did he see the humor in it. The entire time this convo is going on Link and Hoppie were glancing over my shoulder. I didn’t really notice so I just kept on drinking and having a good time. After a while Link texts me, “The guy behind you keeps staring at the back of your head.”

I suddenly became very upright and alert. I didn’t want to turn around so I just whispered, “WHY?!” Everyone shrugged. After that the staring dude and his bro walked away. I was all excited because this had been happening for a while before they told me. I was creeped but also just slap happy. I kept looking around the bar glaring because I didn’t know who it was.

MIIIIIISTAAAAAKE!

In hind sight, I think I caused a lot of our issues due to my absent minded fun having. I honestly was having too much fun to care and never in my wildest dream did I think I was either pretty enough to start something over, or my goofy stares would fire up some meathead with too much tequila in him.

But here is where it gets confusing. I was being the idiot and poking a big drunk bear while Hoppie and Link were laughing their asses off. Pins just sat quietly, not bothering anyone. Up comes the staring guy’s biffle and he shoves at Pins. “YOU GOT A PROBLEM?!” Why the hell, out of the four of us did he pick Pins to rumble with? Link was having none of it and told him sternly to move along. He did after calling Pins a few names and sizing up a silent Hoppie. The rest of our stay there Staring Guy and Drunk Fighty Guy just glared at us. We decided to leave.

MIIIIIISTAAAAAKE!

As we are leaving I am laughing with Link about the insanity of the situation. I see the two men leave the bar with us. We were across the street and I waved at them like the class act that I am. What was I thinking you ask? I wasn’t. I was not phased by the scuffle and didn’t think any of us were worth even bothering. There were tons of other people and girls way prettier than me to be staring at.

We bounce into the bar all the while Pins is all worried that shit is about to go down. I keep telling him that we were fine. If anything happened I would handle it. Hoppie just kind of laugh mostly because he knew it was true. I am a pretty hands-on friend. I may have been in a good mood but I had enough Irish alcohol in me I was feeling feisty. Out of nowhere Drunk Fighty Guy showed up and shoved Pins from behind.

Time out! Look men, let’s be serious here. You wanna fight even I know it is bad form to push a dude who isn’t looking. Also, going for the least threatening guy is a classless move. Pins is a thin little man while Hoppie stands 6’3 and his jacket made him look huge. Also he was wearing shirt with a rainbow on it that said RECRUITER. I have a feeling that Drunk Fighty Guy knew Hoppie would lay him out (you know, since he was the one hovering around me not Pins.) Sad to say that yes, Pins was the least threatening out of the two men there, therefore he was the one to get picked on. Plus if Hoppie would have hurt him in that shirt he would have to tell his bros he was beaten up by a gay guy. A meathead faux pas! I can say I don’t think Fighty Guy anticipated the reaction.

Time in. So Pins gets shoved from behind. PARTY FOUL! No one screws with my friends. My blood boiled and before anyone could react I was shoving Drunk Fighty Guy out the door. Two hands, wild shoves back and telling him if he was going to fight to fight the one who caused it. It came out more like a regular bar fight chatter though. I don’t even remember what I was yelling but I was furious. The whole time I was shoving him out of the bar his buddy, Creepy Staring Guy had his arms between us telling me, ME to chill out. They stalk us to a bar, sucker shove my friend and I am the crazy one? Hells no. Fighty Guy had his hands in the air as if to say “Hand check, hand check! I have laid no hand on this woman!” Classy dude, you won’t hit a woman but you have no issue picking on people and fighting dirty. Charming, really. Maybe he was just more alarmed that a girl in a dress and pumps could shove him as hard as I did. I don’t look a pound over 90lbs to most people. It must have bothered him. Suck on that jackass.

I almost had him out the door before security showed up. They threw them out and we got to stay after I explained they were stalking us and we moved bars to avoid them. We stayed for a few drinks the whole time those two morons were waiting across the street for us to leave. It was 1:40am so I didn’t think 20 minutes would keep them from waiting. Link was amused and called me a crazy little Chihuahua. Small, looks harmless, but has a bite. Pins was not happy about any of it and why would he be?

When we finally left Pins and Link went one way and Hoppie and I went the other way. Our way got us to pass by the two drunk idiots. They were looking wildly for Pins and not pleased they didn’t see where he went. I just don’t get it. I really don’t. They let us pass right by, sure the cops on every corner probably had something to do with it but come on. I still don’t know what the damn deal even was. Why did they target Pins? Honestly it confuses me to no end. Even after all that they were still gunning for him. Again, Hoppie never said two words but his looming presence scared them shitless. He didn’t even need to take his hands out of his pockets. Which, I am glad, because had he gotten involved we would have been arrested or something. Two men fighting is a big no-no. A girl fighting a guy could mean a number of things, but mostly that the guy is a moron.

So listen up internets. I don’t wanna see anymore bar fights. Stop starting them and if my actions proved anything, don’t taunt people who might start them. Apparently it ticks them off. I can’t say I am super proud of this story but I still don’t even know what the issue was. Guy stared at me, we noticed. DING DING! ROUND ONE!

All in all, I vote it was one of my better St Patrick’s Days!

PS Yes, I am a YouTube freak. No, I am not apologizing.

Short blog post today because I have some God of War to play and an Irish holiday to celebrate. That’s right! Bring on the green beer because Abbey is headed to her old college town to hang out around some moronic, drunk college kids. I am all about this holiday mostly because I look great in green and also it is part of my heritage. The Irish part and the drinking part. Fun fact, my Irish great-great grandmother who came over to America carried the last name of Cullen. YOU’RE WELCOME TWILIGHT!

So, last night I went to night three of cake decorating. It was a short and easy class which was good. I made a new batch of frosting that was TERRIBLE. I was so worried it would be too stiff but then if ended up too soft which is way worse!

That’s what she said. Moving on.

I made a tub full of green icing that I had killer plans for. We needed cupcakes and frosting. I showed up with cupcakes and slime. It was Nickelodeon green and the same consistency. Overnight is even started separating a little and it was shiny… much like slime. Bah. But I tried to make clowns with it anyway. My frosting just melted into itself and became a blob of goo. My mom at one point mentioned I was gritting my teeth. I wasn’t aware I could get that physically angry at a sugary treat. The more you know!

After that I used my left over purple icing and I was back in business. Other than clown making we learned to make shells which were quick and easy. Nothing major to report I suppose.

Oh! I forgot! Because I didn’t want to make a clown I made my own decorations. I slapped a Boba Fett head on mine and gave my mom a John Travolta circa Grease to place on hers. Take a look!

First, how slimy does that green look? Ewwww! Second, doesn’t that kinda look like John Travolta in a speedo? My mom’s tie-dyed frosting FTW! Our teacher was very amused by our cupcakes because who wouldn’t be right? Gold stars for us!

Stay tuned for the gripping finale of Cake Decorating 101 next week!!

Fellers! Hey fellers! Guess what! God of War 3 came out!! Wooo!

I am PUMPED. As I have mentioned and you may have guessed, I was at the midnight release for the game. I parked myself on the floor of the local GameStop and played Pokemon (HeartGold baby! Yeah!) waiting for the clock to strike midnight. I really wanna wrap up this post for a few reasons. One, because even though I was at the midnight release I was at work by 6am. Clearly, no time to play. After that I went straight to cake decorating. I just got home and well, I WANT TO PLAY! And two, or three… I don’t know and I am not rereading. Basically, I want to play!

So here are all my unedited thoughts from last night that I didn’t tweet because I would have lost all my followers. Even my real life friends. I know my limits. Tally ho!

Damn, I am here before everyone else. Again.
I'm gonna sit in my car like the neurotic I am.
Where is my DS?

Three Days Grace is like the soundtrack to Kratos' life.
If he had the emotions to be emo.

Okay. Paid a head of time. Now just waiting on the harpies
to give me my copy. Is it 12:01 yet?!

I will never get tired of getting compliments on my Zelda bag.
Even if that compliment is "Your bag is tiiiight!"

"That blonde sitting on the floor with the pink DS looks l
ike the only real gamer here. That is sad for us."
Yeah... ::waves:: that's me.

Who would win in a fight... Zelda or Kratos?
There's a thought that should keep me busy.

HeartGold asked: Who is your red haired enemy?
I need a name I need a name I need a name.
Oh! Kratos! Seriously, is it midnight yet?

I think they should do a Deadliest Warrior
episode based on Kratos and Zelda.
Greatest episode ever. Hint hint!!

My butt hurts. This floor is very uncomfortable.

Remind me to hurt Delta. I have been saying,
"Oh Hamburgers." All day.

My street cred is official gone. DAMN!

No gentlemen, I do not have an XBox. Yes, there
probably is something wrong with my head. I'll look into that.
::eyeroll::

Half an hour!!

Whoa. Okay. Smokers. Are aware of how bad you smell? Good Lord.

Guy 1: "Bro, I'm surprised that one chick isn't here.
You know, the one from Dante's Inferno release."
Guy 2: ::points at me::
Guy 1: "Holy shit it is you!
Well, you were wearing a hat before."
Me: "Yeah, I'm like Clark Kent."
Guy 1: "... Wow."

Trying to turn more people onto Fat Princess. Mission a success.
(Original typo said "into Fat Princess." More cake would have been required.)

10 minutes!!

The manager has a Kratos mask. I want to steal it but I feel
like I would give myself away. I am laughing evilly just thinking
about it. Mawhahaha!

Oh sure, we get to sit inside then get kicked outside. Cruel and unusual!
Wait, what if they lock the doors and just take our money and run?!
BASTARDS! Dear God I need sleep.

Oh! Free poster! Sa-weet!

Girl in line asked if I was buying it for someone.
When I answered for myself she was elated and we both gushed about
our love of violence and chaos. This town needs more girl gamers. Stat!

I have it! It is mine! Time to Twitpic! See you on the other side n00bs!

Tada! Now if ya’ll don’t mind…. I have some business to take care of. RAAAWR! (Wow, I said Kratos a lot in this post. Um… Kratos Kratos Kratos!)

Pardon me while I rant without proof reading.

We all have a Facebook account, yes? Yes. Don’t have one, get one. What are you a social reject? And don’t tell me you have a MySpace. MySpace is dead and the sooner everyone realizes that the better.

Anyway, Facebook is something almost everyone has. It is away to keep connected with everyone from your roommate, your significant other, your college drinking buddy to even that one girl you kinda remember from middle school. But it is also the home of some very annoying habits. Many of which bother me daily.

“Like what?” you ask timidly, afraid I may strike.

“Well,” I say casually sharpening my machete, “let me tell you about my 5 biggest Facebook annoyances.”

1. Inviting me to join your “Millions of People Against the New Layout!”
   There are no words to express my hatred of this one. Why? The site is free you jackasses. They can do whatever the hell they want, when they want, and how they want. Just because they can. Don’t get me wrong, Facebook changes layouts like a middle of the road teenager trying to find a clique. They can’t seem to find a look they like and stick with it. One week goth, one week prep, one week drama geek. It can be tiresome but there are two very important things to remember here. One, no matter how many of your peeps join your little group they aren’t going to change back. Two, it is free. If you don’t like it, leave. But you won’t leave will you? No. No one ever does. You just can’t quit Facebook.

2. “I am going to work, then the gym, then calling my mom, then getting gas, then shopping for fat free yogurt, then dinner with my bff then PARTY!”
   WOW! Look at all the inane things you are going to do today. We are all so impressed by your day to day schedule. Thank you for sharing it with us. Arg! Why are you mapping out your entire day for your 300+ friends? Do they care? I know I sure as hell don’t. That example could be simply stated like this: “Party tonight! WOO!” These blanket all day status updates annoy me to no end just because I am gonna bet that you forget to get your yogurt. Then what? Then you have lied to everyone and I know for a fact you won’t update, “Forgot yogurt. Maybe tomorrow.” And you know why? Because that is a boring update and you know it! No one likes boring updates. And you know what everyone really hates? Super long, boring updates.

3. The “Like This” fiend.
   I haven’t talked to you in years but you have liked every one of my updates, links and comments since I accepted you as a friend. We get it. You like when people say stuff.

4. “On the couch with my hubbie!”
   You’re married. We gotchya. You have been married for a while actually. Not only are you married but you are doing boring married things. Stop constantly updating everyone about how awesome your husband is, or when he does stuff, or when he says stuff. It gets tired. He’s not that great. You married him and you are going to spend your life with him. The sooner you realize that he is still just your old boyfriend with an upgrade the better off we’ll all be. Stay married for 5 years then we’ll talk. Because if you guys are boring now, woooo it is going to be a long road ahead. “Sitting in the kitchen avoiding my hubbie.” Or “Making my hubbie sleep on the couch because I found his secret cigarettes.” If you insist on tell us everything, it will eventually end up there. But this also includes any long term or serious relationships. Once you are passed the getting-to-know-you crap and the honeymoon period, no one wants to hear about your Netflix queue or how you are teaming up to clean the disposal. Boring and boring/gross. Find a dead hamster in there? Let us know!

(Also, why is it always “Hubbie?” Um, helllooooo! They have names, ladies. Don’t be demeaning. Or maybe I don’t understand the finer points of marriage which is entirely possible.)

This does not include people who do awesome stuff when they get married. You two get hitched and decide to fight crime as Lady Prenup and Monogamous Man I am on board for all that exciting news. This complaint also excludes babies. I don’t want to hear about your hubbie but if you made a little person between the two of you, you have every right to be proud. If anyone tells you to shut up, strike them. Here, borrow my machete.

5. “I HATE FAKE ASS BITCHES!!!!11!!1!”
   We all hate fake ass bitches. Who doesn’t hate fake ass bitches? But you know what? This isn’t MySpace. Didn’t we already cover this? Facebook is no place to stir up your shit. Got it? Answer these questions:

      a) Are you under the age of 17?

      b) Is Twitter currently out of service for any reason?

      c) Is this the first time you realized your hatred for fake ass bitches?

      d) Did this involve boyfriend/girlfriend stealing?

      e) Are you drunk?

If you answered YES to every single question, your declaration of hatred may be allowed and praised. If you answered NO to ANY of those, you are just being a drama queen/king so kindly STFU.

This rule also includes listing, “I hate drama” in your About Me category. Might as well add in that you enjoy eating regularly and breathing. Plus when you state you hate drama, you make it pretty clear to everyone you are surrounded by drama constantly and complain about it. A lot.

So there you have it. I have a bias towards boring people and their boring lives. I am all for emo song lyrics, ALL CAPS SPORTS TEAM SHOUTING, telling people your bra color, random Scrubs quotes, whatever. Just stop flooding my feed with lame and tired statements! RAWR!

My second class about cake decorating with my mom was a success. We basically just sat together giggling like school girls while we made a mess with frosting.

Okay, important side note. We all had to make our own frosting. We couldn’t go out and buy premade frosting, oh no. That would be too easy! So Monday I sat over my stand mixer with a layer of powdered sugar splashed in my face as I poked the gooey blob in my bowl. I’m not exactly clear on the minor plot points but I am pretty sure this was how Flubber was created. I had a knife on standby just in case it grew a brain and developed a sudden urge for world domination. I was just being safe. And to be fair, my frosting did turn out purple with big blue spots. Much like I would assume a Dr Seuss booger would look like. So there’s that.

Fast forward to us at class trying to make roses and doing a star pattern on our cakes. First of all, we both kicked ass at rose making. First you make a big glob, you make petals and then… holy shit! It’s a rose! EVERYONE LOOK WHAT I MADE! SOMEONE GIVE ME A GOD DAMNED GOLD STAR! It was like magic! I don’t know if it years of crocheting and knitting that helped my dexterity (btw, I’m an old lady) but I was on my game. I am sure it was beginners luck and next week I am going to leave crying with icing in my hair and a broken soul.

But lay your eyes on my beautiful rose!

After the rose making fun we started making stars. Now, to explain stars… Um, they are just making little stars all over your cake in lieu of covering it with a layer of frosting. Very time consuming, very hand crampy. I have mixed feelings about stars. One hand, they look cool but on the other they take forever! You just sit there… Star, star, star, star, star, star, ARG! That process goes on for about an hour and a half. It is the less than glamorous side of cake decorating. Like I said, I am a crochet fiend so I get repetition but damn. Someone find me a tv or something. Star, star, star, star, star, staaaar! Crap, I messed up. Better eat that piece. Om nom nom.

That was the best part. I left with stomach aches from all the icing I consumed after I made "mistakes." The recipe for the frosting is mostly just Crisco and sugar so my tummy was starting a mutiny. Star, star, star, HAND CRAMP! Star, star, star, eat, star, star, STOMACH CRAMP! I love cake decorating! CRAMP!

Anywho… It was actually a pretty boring class. What I am really looking forward to is next week. We are learning to make clowns on top of cupcakes. Okay, screw clowns. CUPCAKES! I friggin’ love cuppiecakes and I get teased for how I eat them. Rip off the bottom, eat that and then eat the top. It is a mess, time consuming and delicious. Try it sometime. It will change your life. Fact.

My finished cake:

Next week: BYOCH (Bring your own clown head!) Woot!

I have decided my book reviews are boring and have been toying with how to make them more awesome. The idea can to me in a vision.

Dueling books.

What does this mean you ask? Well it means that I will read two books and pit them against each other. How will you know if you will like it based on one single review alone? Oh no, you need to know how it compares to other books! Yes. Popularity contests, cage fights, slapping contests, beauty pageants and all other forms of torture you could imagine. And it shall be glorious.

Today’s comparison medium shall be: Bare Knuckle Street Fight.

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
vs
Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan

I read both of these books back to back in the span of only a few days. It was one hell of a genre switch from one to the other. I picked up Fight Club because I saw the movie, it was awesome, and more importantly, I am a huge Palahniuk fan. I picked up the Percy Jackson book because I saw the preview, love Greek mythology, and was curious. With that intro out of the way let’s begin!

Spoiler heavy. Reader beware!


1) Based on bias alone, which book did you think you would enjoy most?
Fight Club smacks Percy Jackson in the face while he isn’t looking!

Like I said, I am a huge fan of Palahniuk and the movie was great. All I knew about Percy Jackson was that it had been compared to Harry Potter.


2) Which book had a better main character?
Fight Club roundhouse kicks Percy Jackson his right cheek and follows up with an elbow to the shoulder.

Quite honestly Percy Jackson was a boring narrator. He was a 12 year old with normal 12 year old problems. Then! He is the son of Poseidon! Nope, still a snooze fest. He is actually the least interesting character in the book. He just hobbles along, stumbles into his life and the end. It is frustrating. Seriously dude, grow a pair! That’s what 12 year old boys do right? They just grow pairs right? Fight Club on the other hand is just a jumbled bunch of sickness. Spoiler Alert: Tyler Durden isn’t real. GASP! The whole time I was reading it kept trying to work the logistics of how the unnamed narrator could be leading a double life without his know how.


3) Which book is more targeted to you, a 20-something?
Fight Club head butts Percy Jackson in the sternum!

Someone told me Percy Jackson was like Harry Potter. In my mind that meant a good thing. Then I read it. No. It is like Harry Potter in a bad way. I mean, it isn’t even kinda like Harry Potter, it just IS Harry Potter. Twelve year old boy? Check. Living a sad existence? Check! Mean parental figure? Check. Finds out he is the key to saving an unknown world and is the greatest person to ever live ever? Fucking check. He even trudges along with a kind of dopey, loyal friend (OH HAI RON!) and a smart, clever girl that without her the two boys would surely flounder (HERMIONE?! IS THAT YOU!?) Oh, and a dark rising figure that no one else believes is rising except the main character? CHECK!

Fight Club on the other hand is all about falling into a dull grind and pulling yourself from the status quo. Sure it is aimed at 30-40 year old stuck in dead end jobs with nothing in life but a title and a schedule, but I think it applies to us 20 year olds who have no idea what we want and still have a glimmer of hope there is something in this world we can change. Plus, it is violence and a frickin’ metric ton of napalm recipes. The video game generation rejoices.


4) Which book has the best reread value?
Percy Jackson, bleeding on the floor, bites Fight Club’s ankle.

Okay, so knowing Fight Club’s spoiler really takes away from the overall revelation in the last few chapters. You knew what was happening, you know what was coming and well, it sorta sucked sometimes. As I have learned with books by Palahniuk, you spent most of the book confused and then the last sentence brings it all together. I will admit that apparently Percy Jackson is for Young Adults and is on a ton of Children Book Lists or something, but if it is your kind of book, it is worth a reread. I know Harry Potter books can be reread ad nauseum and I hear Percy Jackson is OMG just like Harry Potter.


Bonus question: Who had the better movie?

No, wait. Let me rephrase that.

VS.



Fight Club headlocks Percy Jackson and “accidentally” chokes him to death.


I will be the first to say that these two books had no business being compared but hey, I read them back to back. It is like dating. For a while you just compare them to the last guy/girl. Sad story for Percy Jackson because the whole time I was with him I was thinking about Brad Pitt Fight Club.

To sum up: Read Fight Club. It is a crazy ass book with a slanted view on reality. It and its movie rocked people everywhere. Last I heard the Jackson movie was a boring train to Boring Land. I am going to watch it eventually so maybe I will change my mind… But probably not. I’m a jerk like that.

…His name was Percy Jackson. His name was Percy Jackson. His name was Percy Jackson….

Disclaimer: This post contains a lot of talk about lady parts, sparkly things, and has a not-so safe for work place viewing photo. You've been warned!

Apparently Jennifer Love Hewitt has a book coming out. I know, snoozeville right? But did you know she has an entire chapter dedicated to vajazzling? What is vajazzling you ask? It is decorating your lady bits with crystals.

I’m serious.

This has been a hot topic of conversation between Hoppie and I for several days now. It has been a slow weekend. Between that and us trying to wrap our minds around autoerotic asphyxiation we haven’t had much else to discuss. To be fair, we did watch World’s Greatest Dad so the topic didn’t just pop up out of nowhere. But that isn’t worth discussing. BACK TO VAJAZZLING!

Basically J-Love went onto the George Lopez Show and started babbling about decorating her vajayjay with Swarovski Crystals. Oh la la! Then on the Bob and Tom Show they had a live vajazzling and we haven’t been able to shut up about it.

Someone sat down and thought to themselves, “Damn, I sure do wish I could bedazzle my snatch!” What’s weirder is that someone said, “YES. THIS IS A GOOD IDEA.” Then those two nut jobs sat down and kicked a few names around the office.

It’s like bedazzling for your vagina. Bedazzle Your Razzle!
WTF is a Razzle?
I don’t know. Um, Bejewel Your Jewel.
Gross. Plus isn’t that a video game?
Hell if I know! Bedazzle Your Vajazzle!
Wait, what was that last bit?
Vajazzle?
BRILLIANT! SOMEONE CALL JENIFFER!

As far as I can tell it is just something funny a few people do for a laugh or a “confidence booster.” I just can’t get on board. First you have to be able to wax your cootch. That’s a deal breaker for me! Plus, you have them on for a few days. I can barely keep fake fingernails looking nice let alone something I am going to holster into some jeans, let alone run in. Yikes. But I can see how the curiosity can eat at you. Think about it. Really think hard. You kinda want to see it don’t you? You already have another tab open doing a Google image search don’t you? Perv. Don’t waste your time. Not too many ladies are flaunting their crystallized *insert fun vagina name* about yet. Give it time.

Meanwhile, I think the people behind Vajazzling should really start marketing. I’m already on top of this, trust me. I have a tag line already, “Do I Vajazzle you?”

And yes, this is the greatest thing I have ever MSPainted although this makes it seem kind of scary. I’ll keep working.

Think about it guys. Jump on the Twilight bandwagon and appeal to the young teenage girls and the awkwardly old women drooling over Taylor What’s-His-Face. Make your vajayjay sparkle like Edward on a sunny day. You’d have angry mom’s protesting and more media coverage than you can handle! Think about the pay out! Some Ghost Whisperer on a subpar talk show is just not pushing it enough. Go for the big guns while you still can! You’ll have more money than you can shake a disco stick at! Feel free to forward me my share when you guys strike it rich.

You’re welcome.

(I have two books that I want to review but I am saving that masterpiece for Monday.)

Drum roll please! Next Saturday kicks off Abbey Runs Too Much 2010 with a 4 mile race! It is a classic race in this area and I feel it is the perfect way to start. Plus, it is called the Beer Bottle Open. That alone makes it worth its weight in… beer. I am for sure meeting up with one other person there. As per my love of code naming my friends we will call him Tank. We ran a 5K together last year and have been harassing each other ever since. Some people call it smack talk, I call it bonding. We are racing for pride and beer. First person to cross the finish line gets the 6-pack of their choosing. Seems fitting, yes? Phedre and Delta have neither confirmed nor denied their presence but I do know Hoppie will be there, camera in hand to record my sweet victory over my dearest friends and me being a good sport by rubbing their noses in it. Mawhaha!

Ahem.

That faux-overconfidence aside, I’m feeling on the fence about my actual performance ability quite honestly. Four miles is the weirdest distance! Three is easy, six is just double but four? How do you plan out a four mile run? Gah! I am praying for a 36 minute run at the best. Tank if you are reading this, I actually mean 46 minutes. Feel free to take your time! ::evil laugh::

I have a feeling this super jubilance is only surfacing because the spring weather is shining on us and weather is perfect. I spent the last few weeks of blowing and drifting snow just grumbling from the elliptical machine. Now it is all happy and warm out. The gray, dismal overcast that is an Ohio winter is waning!

Other fun fact is that my brother, Mike, will be coming home from Oklahoma on Wednesday. That means I have just about two days to convince him to run with me. When I say with me I don’t mean beside me, I mean just running the race on the same day. Compared to Mike I’m a turtle but that is to be expected. He‘s coming home fresh from the army. He is a lean, mean, fully trained weapon of the US government! I’m sure running 4 miles won’t even make his heart rate elevate. Hell, he will probably walk it in 20 minutes. Jerk. He has been an athlete since he was born and damn good at it when he wanted to be. I did not inherit the good-at-everything-sports-related gene. My stint as a cheerleader and a point guard in basketball more than proved that point. Yeesh. Have you ever gone to a basketball game and seen someone perpetually on the bench? Yeah, that was me. Have you ever gone to a middle school boys basketball game and seen the little cheerleaders they have? You know the one in the back that clearly isn’t as pretty as the others, hasn’t fully developed, somehow is the only one with acne, does painfully not high high-kicks and is 3 seconds behind everyone else during cheers? Yeah, that was me.

Bah! My focus is gone. That’s what I get for blogging on a Saturday. It is going to be a fun month guys. Between cake decorating classes, God of War III/Pokemon (I know I know…) being released, Alice in Wonderland, race season starting and the Irish holiday for beer drinking I’m not sure when I am going to sleep!

Seven more days! WOOOOOOOOOO!!