Archive for the ‘ Skinny Bitch ’ Category

2012 Detox Day I Swear I’m Starting Tomorrow

This post is only 3 days late. I’m just going to come out and say it, despite the fact that I promised the rest of my detoxers I’d start Sunday, I still have not started. I had every intention of it. Except that Saturday after the commitment ceremony at Beaches, things went a completely different direction. A direction that involved a trip to The Quay on a Saturday night. That naturally resulted in stuffing my face with things like 30 cheese fondue and bread and martinis and wine.


Well except that I was woefully unprepared and hadn’t made a trip to the grocery store, and I needed that triple venti skinny vanilla latte with a side of muscle relaxers and vicodin. Zen tea and Advil was no match for my mood Monday morning. Also, nachos and wine is a perfectly acceptable dinner. SHUT UP! It is! So yeah starting Tuesday was the game plan.


Off to a descent start! Starbucks can suck it! I started the day with a Zen green tea. It did not result in feeling very fucking zen. The three Peppermint Patty minis on the other had have made it possible to not yell “fuck you” to each person that has tried to say good morning to me. And I ate a banana, so that fucking counts.

In other words I’m starting tomorrow. No flour, sugar or processed foods. And if something has more than three ingredients and I cannot pronounce  the superfluous ingredient, it’s off-limits.

What about you all? How have you done on your attempts at detox and resolutions?


Couch to 5K: Day 1

Shiny new shoes. Goal is for them to not look shiny new someday.

I have foolishly decided to embark on the Couch to 5K running program again. Partly because I have shit for brains and partly because my gym membership expired and with as much as I’ll be traveling this summer, I really won’t benefit from renewing. C25K Day 1 looked easy. Run for 60 seconds, walk for 90 seconds. Repeat for 20 minutes. Let’s do this! I laced up and walked the half mile to the middle school down the street. The school that is at the bottom of the hill.

Walking to the track: Alternate walking and running for 20 minutes; 8 intervals? Cake! I doubt I’ll break a sweat.

Interval 1: First 60 seconds down, that wasn’t too bad.

Interval 2: Whooo! Look at me go, this 20 minutes is going to fly by! Hey Tom Sawyer, I love this song…oh but it’s been tainted since that company love-in thing where we had to pick our theme song. Stupid!

Interval 3: 90 seconds already? I wonder if I set the stopwatch correctly this last time? I bet this thing isn’t even working. Why the hell won’t my ear buds stay in? This is annoying.

Interval 4: What the hell lungs? We quit smoking 2 years ago!* There is no way we’re going to make it another 10 minutes.

Interval 4: Oh! Xtina! I’ll never sound like her if I quit now. Must. Continue.

Interval 5: They’re going to find me dead on this track because I’m going to die of choking on my own lung.

Interval 6: Why the fuck is the Inspector Gadget theme song on my iPod?!

Interval 7: Running is bullshit. This C25K idea is bullshit. Fuck you stop watch it has not been 90 seconds yet.

Interval 8: Thank *gasp* god tha’ts*wheeze* over *gasp* Oh shit I have to walk up the stairs to get out of here. 34 stairs to be exact. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow (repeat 30 times).

Walking home: I live on the wrong end of damn this hill. Screw you guy running past me, you’re running DOWN hill of course it looks effortless. I hate you, I hope you get bit by a dog.

Arriving home: I did it! Can’t wait to do it again Tuesday. This is going to be awesome.

This Should End Well

Hey remember when I had that dumbass idea to give up alcohol for 30 days?  Yeah, I’ve got another bad idea in the works. And while it doesn’t require I give up alcohol completely it’s going to seriously impede my imbibing. I need to prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse. In other words I’m going to try running. For reals this time. And I can’t imagine doing it after a night of Fireball shots. I kind of hate me right now for even considering this undertaking.

I abandoned my last 5K goal due to an unfortunate hip flexor weirdness that happened when I ran. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the shoes I bought at Ross. Because I’m determined to run Pints to Pasta this year I had to develop a different strategy. More than one friend, more than two actually, have recommended Fit Right NW as a starting point. So I went. When the sales associate asked me if she could help me, I told her I was preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse. She didn’t even flinch and said, “Great so you’ll need shoes then.” Awesome is what that is.

What is not awesome is the fitting process. They make you jog barefoot on a treadmill. In the store. The store, with people in it. In front of the widow. A window, with people strolling by. And as if that wasn’t enough, they video record you from behind to analyze your gait or something.  Then they make you watch the footage and explain what your feet are doing. I have no clue what my feet were doing because I could only look at my calves.

People my calves, they’re, I just…I don’t even know. They’re genetic and they’re big, and I knew that. But somehow I didn’t really know until I saw them from behind on film. Dear God.

Just as I began to recover from the jog and the footage of the jog,  the sales associate pops out with shoes for me to try-on. Except it doesn’t end with just trying them on. No no! She tells me to go run outside. Like in public. And then she asked me how they felt. Um, like shoes? I did that three times before I realized it wasn’t going to stop so I said “Yes! These are the ones they feel perfect!” Even though I have no damned clue what a perfect running shoe feels like because I don’t run! Apparently their supposed to feel like you’re not wearing shoes. So I guess I have to go home and fill them with gravel and dirt so they feel like I’m not wearing shoes. I can tell I’m going to be good at this.

The Best Margarita You’ll Ever Have In Your Face

I love margarita’s. I hate margarita mix. The best margarita to be found (until now) is at Casa del Matador – they’re Scratch Margarita is tequila and muddled lime. That’s it, and it is delicious.

It is also inspiring…

Amy’s Margarita aka: The Best Margarita You’ll Ever Have In Your Face
1 Red Grapefruit
1/2 a Tangerine
1/2 a lime
1 shot of tequila
Some ice

Cut your fruit in half like so:

Use a fruit squisher to smash the hell out of 1 grapefruit, 1/2 a tangerine, and 1/2 a lime. Be sure to place a glass under your fruit squisher to catch the juices  or you’ll have one giant mess of slaughtered fruit and nothing to show for it.

Add ice and tequila to the glass. It’s probably easier to add the ice to the glass before you smash the hell out of the fruit, but I like to make sure there is actually enough fruit blood in my glass and ice is a deceptive bitch sometimes. Speaking of ice. Did you know I make mine from scratch? None of that ice maker shit in our house. My ice cubes are free-range!

TAH DAH! It’s delicious. If you come over I’ll make you one!

Days Twenty-seven Through Thirty

THAT’S RIGHT FUCKERS! TODAY is Day 30. And if I sound smug, I fucking deserve to. YOU did not give up alcohol (or anything for that matter) for 30 days. And no the fact that you haven’t had sex in 30+ days doesn’t count. You didn’t give up sex,  you gave up on yourself. Look at you. Seriously. Get your shit together.

Anyway, yes I made it all 30 damned days. This last weekend was the toughest. Friday we went bowling and then I watched the boys kill zombies and suck at COD Black Ops. Saturday, we went to Ground Kontrol where I sucked at Dig Dug. Repeatedly. If you have not been to Ground Kontrol,  you need to know  your life pretty much sucks. Arcade games + beer + DJ + contact high from the hippies = AWESOME.

Ground Kontrol’s permanent site is being remodeled so they are temporarily around the corner right across the street from Caberet. Naturally we had to drop in. People, there is a reason you are shit-faced when you go into a tittie bar. Oh my lord. Someone either did a Charlie Sheen amount of coke in the ladies or decided to attempt her own abortion. Either way someone was down a few pints and probably in need of some medical attention. Also, because the bathroom is so fucked-up, the talent just plops their bare asses down on a stool at the bar to shimmy back into their slut wear, since balancing on those shoes, clutching your bag of ones and coke, while slamming your drink is obviously much too complicated without a chair for support. It was the most surreal strip club experience ever and I’ve been kicked out of the Dancin’ Bare sober so you know that’s saying something. After all of that, a local Taco Bell was relieved of a party pack and more zombies had their heads blown off.

Was the 30 Days worth it? Fuck no, single dumbest thing I’ve ever agreed to in my life, especially since the original instigator of this whole endeavor folded like a house of cards and the another never ever tried.  Ladies, you know who you are.

That having been said, I have some difficult decisions to make. Where are we going tomorrow to end this bullshit the right way, and what will my first drink be? I’m taking suggestions!

Day OMFG Are We There Yet?! Aka: Day Twenty-six

I feel like I’m dragging myself across the finish line at this point. I am actually depressed that I have one more weekend of suck ahead of me. Seriously, how can it not be thirty damned days yet? I think someone has fucked with all of my calendars. It sure as hell feels like thirty days. No, it feels longer.

I still have this talent show looming over my head and zero motivation to tackle it. Sure I’ve got a list of acts, and hell yes one of them includes a cow bell! Oh and I managed to secure another master of ceremonies since my first mc unexpectedly exited the company, but that’s it so far, no plan, no organization. I know a glass of wine will spark some out of the box thinking, oh let’s be honest, at this point half a glass of wine will do it. See also: light weight; cheap date. Fortunately I’ll be have access to liquid creativity in plenty of time to come up with all sorts of lunatic ideas. My team will hate next week guaranteed! I can’t wait!

Things My Teeth and Tongue Assaulted:
Strawberry, pineapple, spinach smoothie – don’t let the color fool you, it’s yummy.
Greek yogurt w/fresh raspberries and Truvia – Plain yogurt is the devil’s splooge. Stay away from it. The raspberries mixed in were not enough to cover up the nastiness. I had to add half a packet of Truvia that I swiped from a co-worker in a fit of desperation.
blueberries – nom nom nom
Sandwich thin w/shrimp, mozzarella, alfalfa sprouts and black pepper – One of my most favorites sandwiches on the planet.
European Milk & Dark Chocolate Cookies

Day Twenty-five


Tonight was the LAST of the lame Happy Hour Hot Topics. Well at least from the perspective of not drinking that is. Shut  up. Being and advice column is hard. Good group, mostly. We hit The Quay again, because damn if they don’t have an awesome happy hour menu. The grilled artichoke and the Asian salad are my all time favorites. Stay away from the cheese plate though, it’s pathetic.

I have one more weekend to survive. I’m thinking monster trucks or bowling. Does anyone know if there is a monster truck show? Because tube tops and mullets are always funny even without beer. And people, when I say bowling I’m not talking Big Al’s because there is no way I’m going within 100 feet of that brat trap without alcohol, I won’t even link to it without alcohol! Nope I’m talking real bowling at Hazel Dell Lanes bitches. Whoop whoop! Who’s with me?

On a brighter note, the chances of me slicing your throat for breathing to loudly are diminished slightly by the re-introduction of food I can chew. The Master Cleanse is over. Was it worth it? Meh, if I had it to do over again, I would’ve started with that on the 2nd instead of that bullshit Whole30 then ate really clean for the rest of the time. Since I had already cut out dairy, flour, sugar, taste, enjoyment out of my diet before starting the cleanse, I don’t think the impact was as great.

Things I chewed today:
Chicken and black beans from Chevy’s
Asian salad
Sweet potato fries
a pickle