Chuckie Disease
Today I went to Chuckie Cheese with Lil C, and another Mom and daughter. We were having a nice lunch and getting ready to play when an extremely pregnant woman and her young son walked in. I normally wouldn't even take notice, but it was kind of hard not to notice this particular woman (if you could call her that).
From the looks of her face, she seemed to be about 17 or 18 at the most. She was wearing tight stretchy white see-through pants and no underwear. I wasn't looking for it; but it's hard not to notice when someone bends in front of you with their very see-through pants right in your face. To top it off, she was wearing a stretchy white and black tube top which made her look like a deranged snake that had swallowed a basketball. Did I mention it was 40 degrees outside today?
She looked like she was about to give birth any second, but that didn't stop her from dragging her son around like he was a rag doll and screaming at him every two minutes at the very top of her lungs. She struck me as the abusive type, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the little guy. I shot her dirty looks every time she did it and tried to control my breathing. I wanted to smack her around, especially after she threw her arm high above her head and then slammed it down on his butt. I figured it wouldn't look very good though if I physically assaulted a pregnant woman in Chuckie Cheese. I decided glaring at her and shaking my head disapprovingly would be better for me.
As we walked by her later, I joked with my friend, who happens to be pregnant, that I hoped she wouldn't be wearing a get-up like that the next time I saw her. As she stood there in black sweatpants and a turtle-neck, she couldn't help but laugh.
As we left an hour later, we stood in the parking lot and let the girls say goodbye. It was as my friend pulled out that I saw the crazy tube top girl again. There she stood, at the edge of the parking lot, with her son about two feet from a busy road that serves as the point of entrance for a busy shopping center. She wasn't paying any attention to him. She was too busy watching for her bus and puffing on a cigarette.
A cigarette. . . while pregnant.
I shook my head with disgust and then I started getting angry. Here she is, a woman who obviously has little appreciation for the little life she already brought into this world and there she is smoking a cigarette. I thought back to the video I had seen once, about how babies in utero actually don't get oxygen while their mothers puff away, that the umbilical cord tries to protect the fetus when the mother doesn't give a crap, by lowering the amount of blood allowed in to the baby. This is where the damage takes its toll and why babies of smokers have issues. For most people, it's a choice to smoke or not, but for babies? There is no choice.
Then I started getting really mad, thinking about the fact that my tax dollars are probably helping her to pay for her hideous tube top and that the damage she's doing to her unborn baby will probably be paid for by tax-payers in the form of our insurance premiums and taxes. I thought about all the people I know who have lost babies, those who've tried desperately for months and years to have babies and those who would cherish each little life as I continued to watch her.
I thought about driving over and telling her off. I wanted to tell her what a stupid idiot she is, and tell her to get some anger management classes and some smoking cessation classes as well.
But I didn't. I drove away seething instead.
It's a good thing I went to karate this week and got some frustrations out. It's a really good thing.
Best Quote Ever
Last night was the first monthly board meeting that I was able to attend. One of the committees I'm on met at 6:30 and the meeting officially started at 7:30 p.m. We left there around 11 p.m. last night.
I was slightly worried about the direction the meeting was going to go, when during the house meeting, three of the committee members began discussing their burial plans. The debate raged on between cremation, burial and masoleum internment. The only other board member on that committee under the age of 50 and I exchanged horrified glances for a couple minutes before we got back on a less dreary track.
Much to our surprise, the other board member and I were able to convince the house committee of some necessary changes. It was a piece of cake.
The main meeting started and there was much debate and discussion about many things. Some of the comments were downright hysterical and as secretary of the board, I did my best to document everything that was said.
While discussing a touchy subject, I was much surprised when one of the older board members said he sees it like this: "If you always do what you've always done, then you'll only get what you've already got." It set the tone for the rest of the meeting and I was able to successfully ignore the whispered comments from a certain unpleasant much older person sitting nearby who seemed to be irritated that I was taking minutes on my laptop and irritated that many of the people in the room even existed.
It's easy to ignore it when you're getting what you want. All in all, I was surprised at the willingness of some people to want change, and not surprised at the objection to any and all change from a certain few. We've decided to call ourselves the "turnaround board" though and it's going to happen. It's really going to happen and I couldn't be happier about that.
Why I Hate Exercise Videos
Yesterday, Mr. BBM convinced me to do P90X with him. If you don't know what I'm talking about, spend five minutes watching infomercial TV. He's that annoyingly ripped guy who doesn't shut up who looks like he's working out in a dungeon. Yep, that's him.
I know several people who have done it and like it. I'm just not an exercise video type of girl. In fact, that's putting it mildly. I despise exercise videos. The people are always too perfect looking and totally annoying. Plus, they smile a lot when they work out. Who does that? I mean seriously. It's just not realistic. And would it kill them to put a girl in the video who actually looks like she needs to work something off? How about someone who doesn't look carved out of marble? That would be a nice touch.
So, yesterday we got the kids occupied upstairs and moved the coffee table. I told Mr. BBM I could not possibly listen to that main guy talk the whole time so he just put the cues on for when you were supposed to switch exercises. I was still annoyed and I'm fairly certain Mr. BBM could feel my skeptical glares from across the room.
Then, I realized there was someone even more annoying than the main guy. . . the blonde girl. First of all, I should use the word "girl" lightly. She did more pull-ups in that video than I've ever seen a guy do in a single setting. She's practically a man, or actually, more like a robot. She started off in a sweatshirt and quickly unzipped and took it off to reveal a sports bra with a flag on it. Her shorts were too short. Her abs were too tight and frankly, she just made me want to barf. I mean, I guess that's one way to go about weight loss, but it's not exactly a good way.
What it boils down to is this: I don't like videos. The people are too perfect; the bodies too unattainable to make you feel like even trying, and they are all so annoying. Once I saw that woman do pull-ups I felt more like eating a tube of ring bologna than working out. And working out with Mr. BBM is not my favorite thing to do either. When my thighs start to burn after 1000 squats, I feel like screaming at him that his form is all wrong. When he starts sweating, I start yelling at him to grab a towel so he doesn't drip on my floor.
I would never talk to a trainer like that, which is why I much prefer working out with a trainer over working out with my husband.
After we were done with the video, he told me he enjoyed working out with me. I told him I didn't like it one bit. It's like this. . . when I worked out with my trainer, he could scream at me and push me all he wanted. Sure I was telling him to "sixth letter of the alphabet" off in my head but I'd never say that out loud. I wouldn't want him to think I'm a jerk. Plus, when you're working out with someone you don't know as well, you tend to push yourself a little harder. You don't want him to think you're a wuss or something. However, with Mr. BBM, there's no such courtesy. If he tells me I'm doing something wrong, he better strap on his running shoes because I am coming after him.
With the exception of my trainer, I like to work out alone unless you consider the company in my headphones. And me and P90X? I just don't see us having a productive relationship. I don't find it exactly reconstructed ACL friendly. And as far as Mr. BBM and I working out together goes? Well, unless I put my headphones on so I can block out everyone else, I don't know that it's going to work.
T.I. tells me I can have "whatever I like," and I'm not liking.
Twi-Curious
I feel like it's semi-necessary for me to explain myself. I should preface it by saying this: one of the very first dates I went on with Mr. BBM, back when we were in school at Pitt, was to the movie theater in Squirrel Hill to watch "Interview with a Vampire."
We walked home after that movie, through the park as the sun was going down and I was convinced that I would be devoured by a vampire. A few years later, one of my roommates handed me a copy of another Ann Rice book and I let it sit on my dresser for weeks before finally returning it to her. I had cracked it once. I was not at all interested. If I want to read something creepy, I'll read Poe, thank you very much.
Last year, I had a student in my writing class that started at 8 a.m. Apparently, the dude who plays Edward in the "Twilight" movie (see, I don't even know his name!) was signing autographs and she had set her alarm for like 4 a.m. so she could be in King of Prussia at 5 a.m. and hopefully meet him. When she saw that the line was already three miles long, she turned around and drove back to class. She didn't want to miss my class. This girl NEVER missed a class.
I heard some of my students talking about it, but I never had any desire to read it. The new Dan Brown book? Yes. It's sitting on my book shelf and I am saving it for a rainy weekend, because I want to devour it in two days, like I did all his other books. "Twilight"? No, thank you.
Then my neighbors started talking about it and I was feeling left out. Then my sister, who only usually reads stuff I've never even heard of, started reading it and when she was finished she offered me the book.
I let it sit, like the Ann Rice book so many years ago, but it was like it was calling out to me. "Come BBM, deliriously addicting vampire smut (which isn't even really smut because nothing happens people, NOTHING!!!) waiting, just for you. Come now."
And so I started reading it one night at swim practice.
I had the book sitting on my knees, not wanting anyone to see the spine or the cover for fear they would know I was reading it. I was embarrassed. Yet, after seeing a centimeter of the book, at least three other swim mom's inquired as to whether or not I was reading it. I sheepishly admitted that I had caved. Yes, I am reading "Twilight." To steal a phrase from my sister, I had to admit that I was Twi-curious. I also added that I had stuff to do so there was no way I was going to read it in two days the way everyone else I know did. No, I would take my time and savor it (or not).
That's when I started losing sleep. I slept only five hours the first night and didn't go to bed until almost 2 a.m. I had been reading straight since 5:45. I was exhausted but I did it again the next night. I was at a meeting that night until almost 10:30, yet I still came home and curled up with that book, which is obviously dripping with addicting vampire venom or something.
The next morning, while sipping my coffee and wondering how I could get more sleep, I finished it. I started reading, immediately, the first chapter of "New Moon" and then started making death threats to my sister, that if she didn't finish "New Moon" that night, I might just have to come rip it from her icy cold dead hands.
This vampire stuff is clearly getting to me.
Each night, since I started reading that book, I've had dreams about vampires, am suspicious of people with dark circles under their eyes (myself included thanks to no sleep), and I am focused only on obtaining the next book so I can dig in and read more.
It's not like anything really even happens in the book. But what it is, and the reason why the single biggest group of people reading this book is younger married women like me, is the teenage angst, the unrequited love, the memory of what it was like the first time those hormones fired up and you just wanted that boy to hold your hand or brush his lips against yours.
That feeling is addicting, and that is exactly why people who spend a ridiculous amount of time folding little laundry are the same ones who are falling head over heels in obsession with Edward.
I admit it. I am one of them. Hate me if you must, but remember, I've been learning a lot about vampires. I'm practically growing fangs.
Karate at the Club
Being on the board of directors at my country club has been a lot of work so far. It's enjoyable work, but there is so much to be done and so many things to find out about and look into that I find I'm spending hours at a time, just researching how to run a wine festival and things like that.
Tonight, I had every intention of going to karate for the first time in a couple weeks. But tonight, we're meeting at the club for a demo on a new computer system that is crucial for our club's success moving forward. I can't miss it.
Our new general manager is hard at work creating fun dinner nights that are family friendly and I feel like it's my duty to be there to support them. It's really cut into dojo time and I need to figure out a way to get my karate in. Without it, I'm just not the same.
I think what I need to do is lobby for turning part of the club into a dojo. Then I could train across the street from my house and I'd be able to be there more often. Plus, I could practice punches and kicks while people discussed ideas with me. I could totally streamline two important activities. Actually, I think adding some productive and stress-relieving punching and kicking would be good for all board members.
Unfortunately, I think that's one thing that is not going to happen. At least when Big I's swimming is over with, I'll be able to get to Saturday classes, rainbow colored knee and all.
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