If I were Bewitched, I'd Mess with My Old Neighbors and Take Over the World

This week, I'm part of two blog hops, so I'll be spending all day today and tomorrow reading lots of posts while drinking my dragon fruit generic energy drink. This also means I am combining two subjects into one post.

Your “Secret Subject” is:

Halloween’s right around the corner so in that theme you’ve suddenly become a witch (or warlock, your choice), how did that happen and what will you do?

It was submitted by: http://Bakinginatornado.com         

Finish the Sentence Friday Prompt:

When it comes to my neighbors...

You got to be careful with people, especially those who get a closer look at your life. When it comes to my neighbors, I am usually an idiot.

The sad news is, if someone is going to fook you over, it's going to be someone close to you. A friend, coworker or a neighbor. It's usually someone you never provoked, and someone who has no legitimate reason to hate you.  I run into these people all the time, online and offline as I have neighbors in both worlds. 

If I don't like someone, I still like them. I don't like something they did, but I can still like them for the good things they do. My issue is I don't really hate people. I hate evil, and people do evil things all the time, but I refuse to believe when someone is swallowed by the darkness that they become that. 

Hard Core Gangsta Right Here... and shit.

And that gets me in trouble because I always give people the benefit of the doubt. I see the social red flags waving telling me, "Don't trust that person at all," but then I open up anyway with some of my deeper secrets handing them my fears and insecurities on a silver platter to use later as ammunition against me. I do this uncontrollably, without a mute button. And I think I do it because I don't want to be one of them. Once you start passing judgment on people's character, you're more apt to be the asshole I'm talking about because your judgment will haunt you until you hate.

When it comes to neighbors, here's some of the craziest dumbfuckery I've encountered that I'm willing to admit:

1. A cop neighbor put out an APB on all my cats (for running at large) because my sister had a black baby.
2. A neighbor used to sit up all night staring out his window
3. One guy might of raped me. He definitely drugged my drink and bragged about it. He was the nicest of all my neighbors at that place up until that point.
4. One neighbor went around telling everyone I was an undercover FBI agent looking to snitch out pot smokers. I still have no idea why she did that. I have NEVER worked for a law enforcement agency. Ever.
5. One of my friends actually had neighbors commit her because they were being assholes and she threatened to file harassment charges. They were also meth addicts.

Of course, I've also met some really good friends. My mother's neighbor knows all the gossip. If you see cops in front of anyone's house within a 25 block radius of her house, she will tell you the scoop better than the cops. My friend Missy used to come over when we were just neighbors and barely knew each other and have tea with me in the mornings and help with the kids. Irka, a woman who used to live below me, is the only person who can actually get my kids to clean.

So with all that said, if I woke up a witch?

Well I do know witches. I also believe that the occult is a world that most humans, not even the best of witches, fully understand because if they did, they'd realize the most powerful magic comes from within. It comes from Love and inner peace. It comes from God. Curses are real, but those under God's protection are never hurt. Let their be light bitches!

But if I woke up a witch, I'd probably be more like Samantha from Bewitched. And if I felt comfortable using my powers without any spiritual karmatic implications, I'd probably do things like... (respectively to the last list)

1. Turn my cop neighbor's dog into a BLACK cat. Just for a couple days.
2. Fuse the window on a neighbors face so he can look through it all day too.
3. Drug the guy who raped me, and leave him in a cheap motel room pantless with a tattoo on his left butt cheek that says, "Bubba was here."
4. The neighbor who started rumors, I'd turn her stash of pot into green tobacco. She'll smoke it and smoke it but never get high.
5. The neighbors who committed my friend, I'd use my powers to get them all arrested for the illegal activities they actually do, and their moment of getting cuffed would occur where my friend could watch, and a bucket of popcorn would magically appear in her hands for the event.

and things like

1. Float invisibly into the White house and talk to the President about world problems as a ghost. Things would magically happen in Washington to set this country forward. Things you probably wouldn't agree with, but when you have a good job where you can afford to amuse yourself on Facebook without worrying about rent or getting cancer, you won't give a shit how I did it. You wouldn't even know I was there.

2. I'd create an underground secret layer for my plans of world domination.

3. I'd create some sort of terrorist program where we take the international terrorists and brainwash them into being decent people. If it didn't work, I'd turn them into toads to be dissected in science class in an all girl's school so they can finally be with their virgins.

4. Westboro's buildings would all be rainbow, and no matter what they did to change it, it wouldn't change. Like if they painted over it, it would turn back into a rainbow.

5. I'd magically poof myself and the kids all over the world to travel.

6. A starving student trying to learn who enjoys thinking would discover the cure to some major disease, and it would spark a career for them and things would just work out to where it comes to people who need it. This would happen many times for many diseases, from cancer to polio to PTSD to that huge word I can't pronounce.

7. I'd do some sort of corporate takeover of Microsoft and change things to where their products function without troubleshooting.

8. I'd probably take a day to where every time a bank charged a fee, the computer keeps giving it to the customer.

9. Women would be getting hired and promoted in top jobs because the person doing the hiring doesn't want to become a toad with the terrorists. The mothers would get higher salaries than the men just because every culture places the burden of caring for the children solely on their mother. If men want equal pay, they'll start doing equal work, and I mean real work, taking care of the kids and house.

10. My most diabolical scheme ever... I'd clean my house like Mary Poppins. Snap and the bed makes itself. Snap and the clothes fold itself. Snap and the dishes wash themselves. And when I say, "Stop fighting," and the kids don't, I can snap my fingers and instantly pause them for a time out.

READ MORE FINISH THE SENTENCE FRIDAY AT FINDING NINEE

CHECK OUT SECRET SUBJECT SWAP AT THE LINKS BELOW

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

http://www.BakingInATornado.com                          Baking In A Tornado

http://themomisodes.com                                       The Momisodes

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/                          Spatulas on Parade

http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/                      Stacy Sews and Schools

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com                   The Bergham's Life Chronicles                                            

http://www.eviljoyspeaks.wordpress.com                       Evil Joy Speaks

http://dinoheromommy.com/                                      Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://www.silenceofthemom.blogspot.com                    Silence of the Mom

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com                                Climaxed

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/                                  Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com                           Someone Else’s Genius

http://www.crumpetsandbollocks.com                       Crumpets and Bollocks

  http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/                        Confessions of a part-time working mom
http://www.smalltalkmama.com                            Small Talk Mama

I've had Enough of This Shit

Life is way too short for...

Life is way too short for shit. Really it is. I know we all have to take a shit regularly, and I mean this metaphorically, but the people we shit on, their life is too short for it. My life is too short for other people's shit. Yet, I find myself spending endless hours trying to clean it up and disinfect enough to still get some ungodly flu as a result, which then makes me shit everywhere. Shit is contagious via shit. All of this is metaphorical for the school personnel who trolls my blog and Facebook, speaking of which, I'm talking about your shit too.

I wish I could tell you all the details of my week spent being shit on by various members of the community, but it would be unprofessional. But I tell you what, when it shits, it pours.

Instead of focusing on the negativity and mocking it like I usually do, I'm going to attempt to go the positive route. I'm just going to preach to you people about basic manners and professionalism and ethics when it comes to taking the metaphorical shit.

1. Don't shit on people

Just because you are having a bad day and need to unload the bull shit doesn't justify shitting it on others, or flinging it to others. If you need to unload your shit, take a dump in a corner like a civilized beast. Find a dark corner of the internet (like your own blog) and unload it there. This is what I do. If I have a bad day, it's a Facebook post, a blog post, or a rant to a friend. I don't ruin their days with it. I just simply unload my feelings with honesty. The point is, I find a place out of a way to take my shit. I don't do it on people, and I try to find places where I don't think anyone is going to step in it.

2. If you are going to shit on someone, shit on an asshole

Seriously, I know it's so tantalizing to shit on someone who is a good person. Nice people are the easiest target. I think people assume that they are stupid enough to forgive their asshattery. But the fact is, if you must shit on a person because you can't hold it in, assholes are used to shit. Shit on them. They deserve it anyway. Never fuck over the person who is helping you in order to hide your true feelings about those you perceive as an enemy. I see it happen all the time. People kiss ass to the assholes in their life, and they shit on those who truly care about them. Then they wonder why they are alone. I probably do this too.

3. People who have their shit together usually don't.

When you see someone with their ducks in a row, just know that the ducks they used to get those ducks in a row are not in a row. Be kind to everyone. Don't assume people are on a horse too high that you must tear them down. If they are on a low horse and you still feel the need to tear them down to your level, you are a pretty sad person. See I just shat on an asshole.

4. Bullying is shit.

Yes bullying is taking a shit on people. Don't bully people. This means don't take their lunch money and shove them in a locker. This also means, don't go on a random blog and call the blogger a fat ass. Don't abuse policy to fuck with people because you disagree with their facebook post and lack a sense of humor. Don't post memes saying you want to send Obama with a note to ISIS because you don't agree with his war strategy based on lies the media has told you. Don't be an asshole to my kid just because you don't like me. Don't call CPS on a person because you disagree with their blog post about breastfeeding.

However, it's totally ok to bully the bullies. The guy who stole 500 bucks from you and threatened to sick the mafia on you if you take him to court, yeah that guy, go ahead and sign him up for male enhancement products to be sent to his workplace.

5. Try not to fling the shit that people shat on you.

This one is a hard one for me. When people shit on me, I want to fling it back, but this week, I've been shat on by "bridges I don't want to burn." I almost fell into the abyss of gossip. People are messaging me about the drama, and I started off with good intentions. I kept to the topic. I only had good things to say about the person taking a metaphorical shit on me. But as it kept going, I started getting more negative. "She just did this. What the fuck?" Then I stopped myself. Stop in the name of love, it's Hammertime, stop drop shut em down open up shop, STOP collaborate, listen. I found my true feelings. I was hurt, not pissed off. Wounding the attacker isn't going to heal my wounds. I listed all the good things I liked about the person who was taking a metaphorical shit on me, and I reminded myself why I didn't want to end a friendship over this. I have to understand these people in my life may not resolve our issues. Their desire to keep the shit steaming is their problem. It becomes mine as well when it's my desire to stink up the place even more. The only thing I can do is spray the metaphorical Febreeze so it smells like Fresh Linen in my corner, even if there's a pile of shit under my shoe.

However, there's a shit level. Everyone has a shit level. When there's so much shit Febreeze can't cover, clean house. Get rid of the shit. Burn that fucking bridge and piss on the flames so the devil knows who sent it.

With all that said, if you are constantly being shit on like I have been this week, in the words of my daughter singing a song from a Yo Gabba Gabba Song... Keep Trying. Don't Give up. Never give up. She also sang that while Pink was singing on the radio, "You gotta get up and try try try." Yes God, I got your message loud and clear.


Read more Life's too short for... blogs on the linkup at Finding Ninee

The Boogeyman IS Real! Sort of.

When I was a kid, I really believed that monsters were real. Not the boogeyman. Not Santa Claus. No, church had me convinced that Satan and his army of invisible demons was out to get me and eat my soul. 

Now exactly what is more sadistic? Evil people trying to take over the world by genocide? Or scaring the shit out of little children for shits and giggles? At least evil people had a price, and it wasn't cheap. 

I spent many sleepless nights in prayer while singing praise songs from church in hopes that it would scare off my boogeymen. Norman Rockwell didn't do a print about that now did he? I remember often times being too scared to even walk all the way to my parents' room, so most nights were spent facing the greatest fear of them all, being alone. 

If only demons were really this sexy... mmm David Grohl

I'm not sure if my parents' arms could bring comfort to me at that point because what is that going to do to demons? They want my parents' soul too, according to the church. The ONLY power that can stop this monster is God, who just also happens to be invisible, so you have no idea if it's working. 

I was able to maintain through most of my childhood via stuffed animals. I watched The Velveteen Rabbit once, and somewhere in the story, they insinuated that if you loved a stuffed animal enough, it becomes a real soul. Love is so powerful it can create life in the after-life. So that was my mission. While Satan was busy building an army worthy of Mordor, I was building mine. I know. The shit that goes on in the mind of a child.

My army consisted of tigers. They were my Marines. My foot soldiers. I also had dogs, because I needed a loyal companion. Dinosaurs were my tanks. I even had Air Power: an angel teddy bear and a Pegasus. These were all animals I worked hard at loving to give them a soul, so they can fight the monsters for me. Every night I felt a teensy bit scared, I lined them up in formation on the parts of the bed I wasn't using, creating a wall of kick-ass between me and the demons.  

Fluffy, my Fluppy Dog, became my right hand man, organizing and training the army in my absence as I had really important things to do like play with Barbie dolls. I got her for Christmas when I was 6 years old in 1984, almost a month after my husband was born. That year, I really wanted a Barbie Mansion like my friend Tonya had. One with an elevator. It was the ONLY thing I really wanted. I thought the huge wrapped box had to be the Barbie Mansion, and I saved it for last. I opened the thing, and inside this box was not a barbie mansion. It was a stupid, small stuffed dog. My mom apparently couldn't find a box to fit it in, so she opted for the over-sized one big enough to fit a bike. Fluffy found her way to my closet piled of toys to be ignored for months until the demons scared me, and I couldn't find any comfort until I grabbed her randomly from that closet. Soon later, I recruited more soldiers. 

To the left is Fluffy, my right hand man and personal assistant. Of course, she always forgets to remind me
of all my appointments. I don't know why. She has seen better days. Remember, she turns 30 this December, which makes her like 133 in dog years. To the right is Sher Khan. He's my bodyguard and a huge fan of irony.

As I grew older, I learned that the battle between good and evil isn't between angels and demons, but within the heart of every angel and demon. Demons are not monsters. They are evil yes, but when God decides to conquer hell, they won't be evil anymore. Love is the powerful weapon against evil, not because it divides with war, but because it unites with peace. So I learned not to fear the monsters of the night, but to embrace whatever good I find in them. But if I'm wrong about this, God now has tigers, bears and a one-eyed Pegasus to add to his Army of Angels. Fluffy and the Archangel Michael hopefully won't argue too much about who is in charge, but if they do, I got my money on Fluffy because she won't hesitate to give you the cute puppy dog face.  

I am 35 years old, and I still have Fluffy. The kids love her. 

I'm not sure where the rest of my animal army is, but maybe I'll find them again in the afterlife. 

This is part of Finish the Sentence Friday. You can find more about what bloggers believed as children by going to Finding Ninee. 

How Twinkies Could Change the World and Amazing Things My Body Has Done

I'm in TWO HOPS today, not like beer hops, like blog hops. The thing where I ask you to invest your entire day, in the name of your sanity, reading blogs. Secret Subject Swap has a different topic for each blogger, and Finish the Sentence Friday has the same for everyone. Please grab a cup of your favorite adult beverage and check them out if you get a chance, drop a comment, and give some social media luv humps for your favorites.

Your “Secret Subject” is:

What's the one thing you would do to change the world?

It was submitted by: http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/       

I always have said, for years, if I ever run into a genie in a magic lamp, my world peace wish would be that all the cum tastes like the cream filling of a Twinkie, and it doesn't make you fat, and ingesting it would cure cancer. Why? Blow jobs suck. Literally and figuratively. With the word of one wish, I'd increase worldwide happiness and joy making oral sex more pleasurable for both parties involved. I may not be able to completely stop the violence as humans will always have violent tendencies. You just can't remove the savage beast from a wild animal, no matter how much you domesticate it. But overall happiness would greatly improve by increasing oral sex. I just hope it's not really a sin like the Bible suggests because a healthy sex life is a healthy psyche, but I don't want to damn the world in the name of Freudian Health Care.

The only downfall to this wish is that men would stop enjoying blow jobs like they do now. In regular society, men bitch every time a woman hits PMS. They avoid her because they don't want to deal with insane mood swings or absurd bitchiness. If I had my wish, what would happen is you'd find men during that week hunkered down in a corner hiding, protecting his jewels with the cup of his hand, as his woman is wandering around, "I want my twinkie!" Cmon now, you know PMS would be the time we'd crave that cock like it's chocolate or ranch dressing. They would eventually get sick of blow jobs. It would become a charity deal. "Ok you can suck my pocket rocket, but only because I care about you and your health." We'd be paying more money for jack-off juice, and there would be a black market of it where once you go black, you never go back. It would probably sell for more than cocaine, and the FBI would thoroughly enjoy catching people red-handed. 

So blow jobs would still suck, but cancer would bite it. Don't freak. We'd find a way to give it to kids without the grossness of sex, which coincidentally makes kids.

If magic wasn't involved, and I didn't have children, I'd probably become a corporate hitman. I'd take some companies down in takeover just for the money so I can afford some mercenaries, but then I'd reinvest it into taking down the corporations trying to take over the world in all the conspiracy theories like Pinky and the Brain. I'd literally TAKE the power back. Then I'd rebuild them with normal people, like people who care about their water being safe and not fucking over a country for a bigger bonus.

See below for links in this hop.

Finish the Sentence Friday
The most amazing thing my body has done is... (Ruchira Khanna)

1. I can lick my own elbows.

2. I used to wrap my legs around my neck and walk on my hands.

3. Before the onslaught of my ass, I could escape out of handcuffs in less than 30 seconds. Totally made me a dom in bondage scenarios.

4. One time I hacked up a huge bright green loogie that impressed me, but not as much as crapping out a turd the size of a baseball. Those moments make you wonder why anal sex  and deep throating is so uncomfortable.  

5. In the military, I had to walk a gauntlet of vaccinations. I mean, you stood in line with your t-shirt rolled up over your shoulder and your pants un-buttoned halfway off your ass. You took a step forward and 2 shots in the arm. Another step, and another 2 shots in the arm. Another step, and a Penicillin shot in the ass, and for those who never had that done, let's just say bikini wax sounds delightful after having a needle the size of a fang shoved into your skin inserting what felt like venom into your veins leaving a bruise-like knot that sent pain shooting through all attached nerves for a few hours. The military was so sympathetic to all of us in pain that they made us run a couple miles in boots and utz (combat uniform). 

6. About every other day, I do something so uncoordinated, you'd think it was orchestrated and I was the most talented individual you ever met. Like for instance, I can drop a piece of chocolate because I missed my mouth, and it can bounce off my boobs, onto a table, off my knee and land in the opening of a can of soda. While you think that's amazing, I'm thinking, "Damn, I really wanted to eat that." I can also trip over something, catch my balance landing my left foot on a piece of paper that slides me into a perfect split. One time, I was walking into the kitchen, and as I approached the area I keep my mop and bucket, the mop slipped right as I was walking by it, like not even seconds before I was there, and I walked right into the stick of the mop with enough force to knock the mop up out of the bucket and directly into my face. Another time, I was carrying in each kid one by one late at night in the rain, and as I walked out to get the last kid out of the car, I could hear her crying. So I of course started to run her way, jumping off the curb, landing on a pebble, spraining my ankle as I dove into a mud puddle head first. Then I carried her in on a softball sized swollen ankle, and went back out for the groceries carrying that in without ever looking at my ankle to see the damage. It still hurts to this day. 

7. I can eat a whole pie in one sitting.

8. I have stayed awake for 72 hours straight, slept 4 hours, and then pulled another 72 hours. I did this for a month. 

9. One time I was wrestling this Marine, and he grabbed my wrist and twisted it in a way that sent shooting pain down my arm, and I reacted by flipping up on a table next to us, freeing my hand, flipping off the table behind him, and then I grabbed the back of his head and yanked him down to the ground, catching him before he hit. This all happened in the blink of an eye, and I have no idea how I did it. No idea where it came from. Maybe I just watch too much Jet Li. Another time I was wrestling a 3rd degree blackbelt, and he had me pinned down. I was on my stomach, and he was on my back holding my legs down with one hand, my hands down with another hand, and he dug his chin into my spine. I flapped like a fish and we flew off the sofa 3 feet over with a walk breaking the fall about 3 to 4 feet up in the air. He dumped me after that swearing I was possessed with the devil. 

10. Three times now, probably the most amazing thing my body has done, my vagina crapped out a wad of baby. Yes, I made a tiny human. I worked really hard at making that, and had loads of fun. 

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado

The Momisodes

Spatulas on Parade

Stacy Sews and Schools

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

Confessions of a part-time working mom

Crumpets and Bollocks

Climaxed

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

Someone Else’s Genius

The Bergham’s Life Chronicles
Juicebox Confession
Evil Joy Speaks
Follow Me Home

Letter to the World's Greatest Dad

Finish the Sentence Friday

This week's prompt: Dear Dad...

I'll never forget that smile

Dear Dad:

You were the best father next to God. I love you very much, and I miss you.

Many times, I don't think I'll ever be good enough for you because I put you on such a high pedestal that you're out of reach, but I shall continue chasing the ghost of "I'm proud of you" past, and carry on. Your voice still yells at me in the back of my head, "You lack discipline and focus," and you thought I didn't listen to you. Well now you know. I was listening in all those conversations about how the decisions I make today affect my tomorrow, and about how we are running out of cigarettes every time we ash (that wasn't bad advice from someone doped up on long-term morphine use). I sometimes catch myself sitting like you and I wonder if it's a biological thing or a learned behavior, and then I'm just happy I'm like you in some sense. 

May you rest in peace daddy and Happy Father's Day. Until we meet again...

Sincerely

Your better daughter

Some poetry I wrote about my dad after he passed away...

He was in radio and promotions, and his
radio name was Hammerin Hank;

He had a radio station WEIF radio,
Christian format, and he
turned down half a million for it in 1980
something just to keep God on the
airwaves. He eventually sold it
to the church for a dollar who
turned around and sold it for a
couple hundred thousand.

Daddy breathe again

let me see again

and show you when

you danced with me

I stepped on your toes

and only God knows

how much I cried

inside

the day you left me

how much I tried

to give you life

with memories

your face, your smile

your hands, your touch

your voice, your words

I need

to find my words

lost in your breath

from the day you left

gone with the wind

beneath me

if you could only breathe

I can open my wings

finally exhale

and be

And not to get anymore pathetic... 

The motive

Beethoven’s fifth,

My dad was a jarhead, leatherneck
MARINE.
In the 60's back when they were
really badass

a motive found within the satin...

Trumpets sound for you

my knight in white,

yet I cannot write

for the king is a language Latin--

dead but utilized,

philosophized and preserved on paper,

he haunts my castle still

and my pen abides by his will,
 a Shakespearean immortal,

a transparent drawbridge

aching to be a magical portal,

but the tragedy is not in the loss of a king,

a motive found within the satin,

for the princess is a queen

who keeps his empty crown

holding onto his throne

no knight will ever fill.

I am deaf to the trumpets.

All I hear is the rain

pounding on the moat,

the motive.

The Banana Split Molten Cake Diet Totes Replaces the Subway One: Plus some free exercising tips for those who do that sort of thing.

I designed some new crap for Finish the Sentence Friday. We now have rainbow hair and friendly unicorns.

This week's prompt: My favorite way to exercise is… OR It's bathing suit season, and to prepare, I...

Fitness buffs, read through to the bottom. 

This bastard right here keeps me fat

In the present day, my favorite exercise to prepare for bathing suit season is driving thru Sonic and devouring the Strawberry Banana Split Molten Cake. It's cake with a fudgy center topped with ice cream, strawberries, bananas, whipped cream and a cherry. Sometimes, I have to have two of them to feel satisfied. Then, when I go to put on my bathing suit, I bitch that I'm too fat to fit in my old suit. It's a two piece, one designed to cover the belly entirely if you are that size. I'm not that size anymore, and my fat roll is a skin touching skin, fat bastard before the subway diet, hanging out and drooping like drapes kind of roll. That fat roll peeps out my suit like horrific cleavage loud and proud to give everyone and their children nightmares while encouraging other women to diet. There are women out there who look at my gut and think to themselves, "Thank God I did all those pilates." All this because of that damned molten cake from Sonic that I love and admire so much. 

To try to fix this and actually prepare for the rest of bathing suit season, I'm doing the lazy diet. I'm taking Diet Pills. I need something for energy anyway. Gone are the days of ephedrine (thanks meth heads. fuck you). It's now some herbal shit that, if in the right mood with your sun in the right planet, might give you a burst of energy for an hour or so. But if you mix it with those vitamin enhancing drinks that contains large quantities of Niacin, it kind of gives you a false sense of energy. I think the weight loss benefits are also a false sense thing too, but shhhh, we aren't telling my body that. I mean Banana Split Molten Cake people. I can't give that up... I can't give up my shallow, hollow sense of fulfillment for shallow, hollow cultural expectations of a woman's appearance. 

In fact, I'm kind of pissed off that nobody really gives a shit that all these men go shirtless... Fat, round hairy men going shirtless, at the pool, in the garage. It's ok for men to be fat. They don't exercise for shirtless season. Nope, just us women because we have expectations and shit. 

Now, once upon a time, I was in the military, and I actually did exercise. Here's some tips if you are wanting some. And not just steak tips. No, like real tips Dr. Oz might not tell you because he's kind of plastic looking and might be a robot. 

Protein

I don't know why women avoid this. You know who eats large quantities of protein while working out? Body Builders. Why? It's necessary. Let me explain what you are doing when you exercise. You are killing cells. Then your body rebuilds shit it needs. In order for your body to rebuild anything, cells require protein to make new cells. While protein bars usually come with a carb filled punch, Tuna is high in protein, and a better protein all the way around, especially for "dieting." 

Size

Don't pay attention to your weight. Instead pay attention to your clothing size. Muscle weighs more than fat. When you exercise, you make new muscles. If you are doing it right, you should gain weight while losing a clothing size. 

Drink Water

A lot of times our bodies get thirsty and think, "Gee, I need a steak." Water can sometimes replace a meal sized snack, but also water is anti-aging in the sense that hydrated skin is healthy skin. Mild dehydration sucks and slows you down. Water helps clean out the system. There's a million and one crunchy reasons to drink water. Just don't drink any water from Charleston, West Virginia. 

You are what you do

A military PT test usually entails running 1.5 miles, pushups and situps. I struggled passing that test when I first got in on account I was so out of shape. Every day in basic training, including Sundays, we ran about 3 miles and completed over a hundred pushups and situps. In addition, every chance in between many of us snuck in some extra pushups either by mouthing off to the instructors or seeing who can outperform the other in a minute. I did lose some fat doing that. But I barely, after weeks of that kind of training, passed the PT test. My run time was a little less than 14 minutes, and I could do about 20 situps, and 15 push ups. 

So then I went to tech school (this is a true story). There I met a really hot guy I kind of wanted to hook up with, and he invited me to go swimming with him. So to flirt, I went swimming every day for 1.5 weeks. In that time, we attempted to swim 20 lengths, though there were days we didn't quite make 20 before making out, and then I took a PT test. My run time was more like 12 minutes. My pushups were more like 35, and my situps more like 30. Then that guy wouldn't talk to me anymore because I didn't "put out," so I started dating a Marine (who didn't need a woman to put out so I eventually did). He made me do PT with him a lot. By the time he was done with me, running and pushups and really amazing sex, my run time was down to 11 to 12 minutes, and my pushups were 73 in a minute, and situps, 55 to 60 in a minute. 

Then I went on to my first duty station where my boyfriend changed due to location. He didn't exercise, and we were two miles above sea level. My run time was more like 14 minutes, situps at about 40 and pushups about 50. 

Then I got out of the Air Force and avoided PT all together. Now I could probably walk that mile and a half in under 20 minutes if I'm lucky. I do about 5 pushups now. Sometimes 12 if I really push it. I haven't attempted a situp in years, but I don't think I can do one. 

Moral of the story? Two things.

1. Swimming is awesome. It's one of the best exercises out there. It works muscles you didn't know you have. It's a cardio and muscular-toning workout in one. You don't sweat much because you are in the water. It's easier on the joints. And the strokes force you to breath a pattern better suited and more comfortable for cardio. Swimming alone improved my PT scores where rigorous training couldn't. 20 lengths 3 times a week, freestyle up and breast stroke back, will do more than an hour at the gym plus yoga. 

2. You are who you do. This is beyond boyfriends. Friends matter. If you spend time of your day with people who work out, more than likely, you will start working out, and you will work out the way they do. And if you really want to lose weight and improve your performance, you really want to go to the best. Date a Marine. 

Weights / Strength Training

When you lift really heavy weights one or two times, I mean really heavy beyond what you think you can do and you push yourself to do it anyway, that's how you get bulky muscles. If you want to tone your muscles, do weights, but light weights and many many reps. Meaning take 10 to 30 pounds and repeat the small exercise 50 times. This is good for the cellulite stuff and lumpy butt syndrome too. And scientific fact from scientific sources say that the ONLY way we truly know how to increase metabolism is to build muscle. 

Diet

When it comes to food, if you are working out like mentioned above, you probably can eat whatever you want. I did in the military and lost lots of weight. Then I lost even more weight eating less, but whatever I wanted including fried foods and cake batter, just by cleaning my house with my 3 kids in their baby / toddler years. 

But if you want to "eat healthy," aim for things that you can hunt or gather. Avoid kitchens that are laboratories.  

The important thing is your diet should match your activity. Marines eat more calories, fat and carbs than any other creature on earth. While active duty, you wouldn't know that because most of them could model underwear. It's because they are so active, they need all those damn carbs and fat. Many keep the same diet and upon exiting the Corps (they are still Marines, just not active ones), many gain weight. It's because they stopped rucking and shit, but continued to eat like they were. 

Lifestyle

The Air Force is dying to catch up to the Army and Marines. They out-perform us on every physical level overseas in real life scenarios. The Air Force, due to it's oxymoronic military intelligence, believes they need to increase PT to catch up. They are wrong. It's not working. I'll tell you why. Marines and Army do PT all the time, but their PT is a break from their real training. Most of what they do to train and function on the job entails running, jogging, swimming, marching... all with about 50 to 100 pounds of gear toppled on them while wearing heavy boots. Air Force can increase their PT all they want, but as long as they are gear free in tennis shoes, they aren't really training for much. 

The lesson is your lifestyle matters. You can work out all you want, but if your lifestyle entails sitting on your butt more than moving around, it's not going to do much. It's good to do it, I mean if you are sitting on your butt a lot, you're going to need those little bursts of working out to maintain your current status, but I lost more weight and got in my best shape cleaning my house while taking care of a baby and 2 toddlers at the same time. I lost more sanity than I did weight, but I lost weight. That was more activity than the military ever gave me. 

Stretch

Longer muscles are stronger muscles.

Keep in mind, you are getting skinny tips from a fat woman. Strength tips from someone who can do 4 push ups. But I'm right. I mean, it's gospel truth stuff right there, but if you don't want to believe me, it's your body, one you should love no matter what size it is. But loving yourself like that is just as difficult as all the exercise lifestyle changing crap I just mentioned. I know. I obviously don't enjoy having my fat bastard stomach roll, but I do frequently grab my stomach and squish it so it looks like it's talking, and it frequently says, "Get in my bellay." 

For more Finish the Sentence Fridays, check out this Finish The Sentence Friday Co-Host and at the bottom of her post is a link-up. Join in if you are a blogger. 

Nice Things Finish the Sentence

Before I get started, just to point out, I had to change the name of my blog because some jackhole in Japan bought my domain name that I had no idea expired. 

Now Finish the Sentence Friday:

The nicest thing someone ever did for me was...

The nicest thing someone ever did for me was be brutally murdered by the very hands he was saving. Jesus Christ people. That's who I'm talking about. 

That would be a short blog post, so why don't I just do a list of nice things people have done for me in this life from the top of my head with a side of vodka...

My mother pushed me out of her pie hole. It would suck to have been stuck in there after all these years. Now that could be a horror movie. 

Someone got creative with potatoes and once made me a potato gun I call vodka. Well they didn't make it for me, but it was a nice thing that happened to me.

One time my kid was melting down and an angel of a woman came to my rescue as told in my post titled Dear Dr. Phil Wannabes of Walmart. 

Recently, my friend and I went out away from home to talk about my problems, and we stopped to get a nice, refreshing, cold soda. I remember her getting gas and it was annoying to wait for her to pump because I was thirsty, but I don't remember when that happened because apparently, she forgot to pay for it. This is the gas station I go to so regularly, two people that work there are on my facebook, and I'm talking to this one woman about it, and I'm like, "My friend has no memory of it whatsoever, but I distinctly remember her pumping gas recently and I'm not sure if she paid for it or not, but it was only 10 bucks, I'll go ahead and pay it for her." The woman insisted it was only 10 bucks and on the house, not to worry about it. 

My husband stood up for me when my sister was being a bunch of words you shouldn't say around children. It meant a lot to me. I just didn't see that one coming ok. 

My shrink actually cared. I know. That's what I pay him for, but most don't do that. My shrink gives good advice. From the heart. That's just rare in that field. Speaking of which, he totally scared the shit out of me when he was giving it. He just really meant it. That's all. 

Ever so often, people (usually men or children) hold the door open for me.

A priest has always taken a minute to listen to my problems. I'm not Catholic. That's really nice of them to do considering I don't tithe at their church.

One time I went to the ER with a migraine, and the doctor, who gets migraines, took care of me faster than normal and without any more questions, rhymes or reason it was LIKE, "I see you are in pain. Lots of pain. Tell no more. Here's some good shit that will knock that out. Oh, you drove yourself here? You don't have anyone to drive you back? Normally we wouldn't give you this, but you are in a lot of pain so..." 

My sister once took me out to eat to tell me a close friend of mine died.

I drove through Sonic. Ordered. Realized I forgot my wallet. They let me leave with the food, eat it, whatever, and come back to pay. They have done that both times I did that. 

When I was like 4 years old. I was at the pool and bravely swam out beyond where I can touch the bottom of the pool. Then I started drowning. I was dog paddling for my life for what felt like hours, I'm sure it was 3 minutes, before some kind adult (I'm pretty sure it was a man with a beer belly) grabbed my arm and dragged me to the wall. He didn't say a word to me. He just saved my life. 

You know, I really thought a bunch of stuff would come pouring in off the top of my head, but people aren't really that nice to me. Maybe they are and I take it for granted. But most days, I'm pretty content if I can go somewhere and they don't do anything mean to me. In many ways, not being a dick is probably one of the nicest things a human who isn't a parent or the son of God has done for me. 

When my dad was alive, he'd stop whatever he was doing to solve my problems or try to. My mom attempts the same feat on a regular basis as well. My kids, they must take after my parents. If I'm crying, they will stop playing to ask me if I'm ok. I think the issue is for someone to do something nice for you, they have to care. Because the world is in need, indeed, of a Care Bear Stare, we're all stuck pro-creating some nice little people to care for us when our parents leave us behind in this thing called life. 

So basically, moral of the story, when a stranger is nice to you. Embrace the moment. Don't forget about it. Remember it. Appreciate it. I mean your life, my life, our lives up to this point is just a memory of the past. I tend to dwell on the negative, and maybe that's why I struggled coming up with nice things that people have done for me. But maybe people just aren't that nice anymore. Either way, it's healthier to appreciate it like the rare, golden gift it is. This is probably why some people embrace Thank You Cards in packs of 20. 

More Finish the Sentence Friday at Finding Ninee or Janine's Confessions below. 

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