Friday, July 22, 2011

So. . .yoga. . .nuff said

I have decided that Jillian Michaels is an evil, sadistic, goddess. 
Her body is practically perfect what with the muscle definition, flawless tan, and clear skin. However I bet she has split ends. . .hah! 
So what if she could kick my butt from here to next Thursday? My hair is better then hers! Que "happy song" LALALALAA LA LA LA LA DOO DAHHHH! 

Moment of truth: I have splint ends too *hangs head in shame*
Stupid girl must be some sort of deity.
So myself and the Sis-in-law got the grand idea to purchase this little baby. I figured if the people from The Biggest Loser could do yoga, so could I. Phsh!

News Flash: Those people are freaking hard core! 

Jillian makes you feel safe, tells you to try something different, and to not be afraid of new experiences (perhaps she is in the wrong profession? I see psychiatrist in her future, just sayin') and then she asks you to contort your body into uncomfortable positions (keep in mind my body is much fluffier then most), once contorted she then expects you to move in a repetitious manner so as to "Burn that fat"! Now that you are panting sufficiently she is going to tell you to hold that terribly painful pose for 15 seconds. . ."yeah 15 seconds isn't that long, I can do that." I think. Too bad for me that Jillian starts rambling about one thing or another for about half an hour while you're twisted up like a fatty pretzel wishing for the sweet relief of death, or for her to shut up so you can un-twist. . .either or, either ways fine.  

You know what else is completely sickening? Those skinny-minnie girls on the video with her NEVER stop smiling! You're not fooling anybody lady!! We all know that you wish you could drop-kick Jillian right in her perfect derrière. All I'm sayin' is that no one would mind if you threw in a grimace every once in awhile.

The trick is to do this "practice" (that's what Jillian calls different forms of exercise, she's so fancy) in a semi-dark room with zero reflective surfaces. You have to be really thorough while inspecting your work-out space, because heaven forbid you forget to put the blinds down all the way and half way through the hell we call yoga you catch a glimpse of this sweaty, round, walrus wearing your orange t-shirt and gray shorts. . .oh sweet baby Jesus that is me. Now you have to finish your work-out while trying not to vomit from the image you just saw. 

Not that I would know from personal experience or anything.

Another tip that good ol' Jillian doesn't mention is that you must have proper support for "the girls". No really, it's all fun and games until someone gets a black eye via flailing boobage. Strap down those puppies or you'll regret it. 

In all seriousness I highly recommend this DVD. I can't say for sure if I have actually "burned that fat" but I can hardly walk so I'm thinking it works pretty well.

Twisty-tiger-pretzel Over and Out 

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

The Castle

Normal girls live in one home. I am not normal (shock and awe, right?). This girl lives in a fort and a castle. Just try and beat that. I dare you.

Alright so the "castle" doesn't have a drawbridge or towers or even the up and down ridge rock formations 
To the untrained eye the Castle may just look like any other house sitting happily on its lot. But when you look closer you can see that this little baby is totally worthy of royalty. 

The walls all have paint on them, its a lovely, peaceful sort of beige. Those same walls are made of none other then. . .wait for it. . .DRYWALL! This isn't a joke, it's completely true. That's not all people this place has carpet and I would be willing to bet a substantial amount of the money I don't have that if we pulled up the carpet in this beast we would find sub-floor, oh yeah this place is legit. 

The only bugs we worry about are moths and flies which can hardly be avoided when living in Missouri. 

Yep, this place is a castle alright, but you know what comes with castles? Not servants! There is however an absurd amount of upkeep! You have to vacuum and dust and polish and shine. Who has time for all that noise?
Besides Cinderella (and that chick ditched those tasks when she married Mr. Moneybags the prince. . .who by the way had his own castle) 

Castles may be in civilization but so are ambulances and police sirens which I hear on a nightly basis while residing at this fine establishment. The stars don't seem as bright but that may be because the Golden Arches of the local Micky D's are casting a garish hue in my direction. 

There are ups and downs to every situation, that's all I'm sayin. Luckily I get both. I also get to drive the hour and a half it takes to reach both of my homes. Maybe I'll live in a cottage on Highway 14 right smack in the middle of the Fort and the Castle. How's that for a compromise?? 

 It would be okay with me if it looked like this. Also the name of this painting is Gingerbread Cottage. It would be okay with me if it was made of gingerbread, even better if the gingerbread had zero calories.
Wanna-be-cottage-dweller Over and Out

Early Morning Thoughts

This morning when I woke up 3 thoughts instantly flooded my mind: 

One - I wish I had a magic wand so that I could Reducto the heck out of Mali who was barking her head off which in turn woke the small child that is going to be in my care for the next 12 hours. 

Two - I wonder if the guy who is going to cut the grass today will be hot?

(This next one is far superior to the previous two)

Three - I love being me.

I mean who else do you know who can successfully wish death upon her dog via a Harry Potter spell AND virtually oogle the lawn guy, all within 20 seconds of consciousness?
It's a skill really.

Multi-talented Over and Out

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Tennis: A calorie burning buddy of mine!

Sara Evans has a rockin' body even though she's had two kids and her jerk of an Ex-husband broke her little heart. She gives all the credit to tennis. . .If it's good enough for Sara, it's good enough for me. My Mom and I like to have "bonding moments" they normally include: reading parties on her bed, Sunday afternoon naps (also on her bed), and a plethora of other activities. Recently we have taken up tennis.

Well I don't know if you could really call it that, you see the sad truth is that we kinda suck. When I say we what I really mean is me. Mom is actually good, darn her natural athleticism!! Speaking of which could she not have spared an ounce of skill to pass on to her darling daughter?? She says she gave me all of her craftiness (as in ability to make and create things, not in a sneaky burglar kind of way) Craftiness is nice and all but it doesn't exactly help me to tone my arms or flabby stomach so maybe I'll ask about a trade in? Can you trade traits?? If so I would like Miley Cyrus's hair, Julianne Hough's fake tan, Miranda Conkle's firm skin, and Mom's tennis technique.

This is how the tennis time goes down: Mom serves (it lands within two feet of where I am) I miss, "Sorry Mom!", she replies, "It's okay honey, try again." Mom serves a second time. I hit it at a dramatic angle that sends it flying directly at the person in the court next to us. . .on my side of the net. Mom serves a third time (trying to hide the S***-eating grin that takes over her face from my last attempt) I connect! "That one is totally gonna land on your side of the net! Winner!" I shout triumphantly!

We stop ever so often to collect the three bags of balls that are all gathered in happy little groups against my side of the fence. Mom's side is empty. . .of course.

When I do manage to actually hit the dumb neon ball I normally like to add a little flare normally in the shape of a nice leg kick or spin or something. Sometimes I even throw in a hair flip (the skanky white-trash boys who are playing basketball across the way go crazy for the hair flip)

So playing tennis in Missouri is like playing tennis in the little 4X3 sauna at the gym. The air is hot like sin, and thick like peanut butter. Mom and I are super glisteny by the time we are through. . .who am I kidding? Truth is I sweat like a man. The idea that girls have to glisten daintily while men can sweat buckets of salty manliness is pretty lame. You heard it here first: REAL WOMEN SWEAT LIKE MEN.

 Real Women also make fishy faces as often as possible. . .

Screw Julianne Hough! I'll take Mom's fake tan in addition to her skill. Might as well keep it in the family :)

Mom gets 10 points for skill and 5 more for patience. I get 2 points for playing even though it is painfully obvious that I blow. 3 points for enduring the ridiculous heat and 10 points for looking the part = TIE

This look says, "Hey I am extra sporty. . .I have excellent stamina and will never surrender. Feel free to hit the ball anywhere you like because my sassy nike's will carry me swiftly to the desired destination with ease and elegance." Kinda a mouth full for one outfit but hey my wardrobe is kind of a chatty-Kathy or should we say chatty-Cassie??!!

In the end Mom always wins. I have come to accept that. Although how could she not? I mean she gets to spend a solid hour and a half laughing as I trip all over myself and swear directly at the ball from time to time. Good humor.

Funny-and-slightly-less-fat Over and Out

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Triumphant Moments of the Week!

Kel calls moments such as these: Winners!! 

* Not feeling at all tempted to answer when the evil ex-boyfriend calls (P.S. you sooo are not foolin' anyone, 4am with a blocked number equals crazy ex every time)

* NEVER having to unzip or unbutton my pants to remove them!! Perk to losing weight is everything is too big :)

* Ellie (My adorable 20-month-old niece) loves the stuffed animal I bought her the most!


More Proof

Even More Proof

Ultimate Proof

* The most awkward hug EVER (it was one of those kind where limbs intertwine incorrectly and your heads sorta bump into each other) with Boy isn't even that awkward when your BFF is as cool as mine. . .we just giggled 

* Moving up a weight set on the Bowflex! Look out Arnold Schwarzenegger, Cassie's comin' through! 

This will be me in about 20 years, if I become a man and pack on way to much muscle and become overall less attractive then I am now. Okay, I will NEVER look like this. . .Thank the Good Lord! 

And lastly

* I officially have Eve hair. Eve Hair = hair long enough to cover vital parts of the ta-taas (i.e. nipples) 

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Dad, me and the Ants make three!

Daddy and Me

(there is a reason they say 3's a crowd. . .just sayin)

My father and I drove to St. Louis today, it's about a 4 hour trip so it's do-able but not exactly pleasant. We took Sadie (that's what we named our 1982 Mercedes). To hear my father talk about her you would think this car could walk on water, make you waffles for breakfast, and balance your checkbook. She can't do any of those things but she didn't blow-up so SCORE! 

 Sadie!! (try and ignore the love birds on top. . .this was the only picture I could find)

So I'm sitting in the passenger seat listening to awful-old-man country music just "trying to have a nice day" as my brother says, when I feel something on my leg...look down and it's a harmless little ant. If there is one thing I have learned from living in a fort it's that when there is one ant there are many. Sure enough I do a thorough examination of the floor boards and "Hello ant colony, happily snacking on chip crumbs and random edible tidbits." 

Hmmmm, how can this be? We are literally traveling in a moving vehicle! How the heck are these stupid little dudes in here??? More importantly how the hell am I going to get them out? I am not an exterminator (although I would be awesome at that job...I look pretty hot in jumpsuits) Also we are going about 7 miles faster then we should be while my father "goes into Seattle driver mode" <----Believe me it's not pretty, not safe, and completely nauseating. I give, the ants are coming to St. Louis.
The only thought that comforted me was, "Well if dad gets us killed with his crazy driving, these ants don't stand a chance." *Que evil villain laugher*

I try to ignore them, honest I do. But, it's like they are playing a game of "who can climb the fleshy mountain that is Cassie's leg first" and let me tell you that ants are dumb, I guess I should have expected that. . .they are so small there is hardly room for a brain. The winner of the crawl-up-my-body game always got a nice swift crunch of my thumb to their face = certain death. Like I said, DUMB. What exactly did they think they would gain from the excursion up my lower body? . . .wait a minute! I'm wearing a skirt! These ants have gone from slightly annoying to insect-sickos! Now I can't be certain that all those little creepers were in fact "creeping" on me but to be safe I stomped all over their happy little feast right there on the carpet of Sadie's floor. 

Cassie: 1 Ants: 0 Ants that got a peek at my lady-junk: -23

Violated-Via-Insects Over and Out

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Hello, My name is Cassie and I live in a fort

You know when you're a child and your dad builds you a tree house, you get really excited and find things to put in it from your bedroom and kitchen and such. Stuff like a mirror and mismatching cups (in case you get thirsty of course) and a few books, maybe an old rug and crates to use as tables (if you would like to entertain guests) Well that's what my house is like only on a much larger scale.

My parents and siblings and I built off of an existing building 5 summers ago. It is a 4 bedroom (5 if you count the sheet-domain that we threw together for my brother-in-law, we don't) 3 bathroom, 2 kitchen, 2 1/2 living room home. . .fort, whatev

We weren't exactly rollin' in the doe when we started the construction on said fort so we did what we do best. . .got creative. There is a saying that floats around my family, it should be a joke but considering how closely we live by it I would say it's more like a lifestyle choice at this point, "It's not right, but it works!"

Taking this motto into close consideration we decided to forgo sheetrock/drywall/gypsum (why does that stuff have so many names? It should adopt Seal's way of thinking. . .I mean that dude didn't even bother with a last name, and things worked out for him) for walls and ceilings and went with OSB instead. Now all of you home-improvement buffs may know what that is but for everyone else I will include a short description: My dad calls OSB bologna board and for good reason, the process of making bologna includes but is not limited to taking random animal parts and smashing them together in a highly processed slab of "meat", similarly the men (I assume they are men, I guess they could be women but I can't imagine that job would be copacetic to good hair) who make OSB slap a bunch of random wood parts together to form a solid 4X8 sheet. So we used wood for the ceilings and for the walls and upstairs we went ahead and used it for the floors too. Who knew OSB was so versatile?

Once we framed and threw up the wood we pursued the idea of paint. Home Depot and Lowes have this program where if the associate working in paint is an idiot and tints the paint incorrectly they mark it way down and try their best to make it a color that does not resemble poop. We bought mis-tint paint by the 5 gallon bucket. Walking through our house is like walking through a bag of skittles. My Mom's room is a teal color, the great room is beige, Granny's room is goldenrod, the living room is a couple of shades of blue, both upstairs bathrooms are pink. My room has white walls (SHOCKER) but it has a salmon colored ceiling. . .I know you're jealous but really there is no way your house could be this cool, so don't even try. My favorite are the rooms that for one reason or another just didn't get painted, or primed, yep they are just wood. . .good ol plywood, so homey.  (especially if you are a bird, or a squirrel. . .in some cases a kitten)

Unlike most tree houses we have electricity and running water, we are fancy that way!! A draw back of the fort would have to be the bugs. You see we live in the woods, DEEP in the woods. And since our house is made entirely of wood the bugs sometimes become confused as to what is theirs and what is ours. I'm not gonna lie the ants pretty much run the show downstairs, the spiders aren't picky they occupy the whole joint and as summer rolls around the wasps start to swarmin' ahhhh living in a fort is EXCITING! There are the insects that you square your shoulders and clench your teeth, grab a big shoe and attack. Then there are the "Big Ones", the ones that you square your shoulders and clench your teeth and scream for a big brother to dispose of. 

Another awesome perk about the shack I live in comes when it rains. If you are one of those people who love to stand in the rain and feel the cool water splashing on your face and soaking your clothes and hair then have I got a treat for you?! If you find water relaxing, freeing, or peaceful. Please don't hesitate to spend the night in a thunderstorm. We can have all that while never leaving the comfort of my bedroom. The window leaks. . .a lot. To fix it we would have to finish the half erected deck that is directly above my window (don't hold your breath) so instead I put some towels (ugly ones that I didn't like anyways) on my window sill. "IT'S NOT RIGHT, BUT IT WORKS!" 

The joys of living in the woods in a tree house are endless really.

Fort-Dweller Over and Out

I think I love my hip bones. . .

So most people have them, old people break them, and chubbsters (like myself) normally can't find them. . .Any guesses as to what "them" is referring to? HIP BONES!! Oh yes, that's right. I would just like to take a moment to tell all those skinny people out there that they need to treat their hip bones right, don't take your hips for granted people!! 

Shakira knows what I'm talking about! She knows that the "hips don't lie" also she knows that she's on tonight and she's starting to feel ya boy. . .but that is neither here nor there. 

I have spent the majority of my life completely ignoring this beautiful bone but now that I have unburied this body part from the masses of excess fat I simply will not let them go!

 I would like to thank Brutis (My BOWFLEX) and Francis (My Stationary Bike) for this new development. If it weren't for you two terrible machines I may never have found these lovely things :)

Ex-Heifer Over and Out

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

I'm a Double D...and I am NOT talkin' about boobies!

My brother recently bestowed upon me a rather unique nickname: Double D. It is not because I have huge ta-taas either (because that would be pretty weird coming from my bro) The real reason is because I sorta hate our dog. DD = Dog Despiser

Now before all of you animal lovers start jumping down my throat you have to understand that our dog is a complete moron. It may be mean but its 100% warranted. Mali is an idiot, plain and simple. 

For example she does this thing where she jumps up and scratches and claws the back door to be let in, she behaves as if she were buried in a coffin and her limited air supply is depleting rapidly (when she has only been outside for 10 minutes and her being outside was HER idea in the first place, because I couldn't care less) So I go to let her in. . .more often then naught I am lugging a 20 pound toddler on my hip because Captain Annoying (another term of endearment for the pooch) will inevitably knock her over when she comes sprinting into the house like an Olympic athlete. That would be enough to bother any sane person but we are not finished folks. . .it gets worse! You open the door and are instantly blasted by 100+ degrees of sticky humidity soaked air, so you kinda wanna shut that door as soon as physically possible, well too bad for you because the dog looks right up at you and then runs back into the yard to retrieve whatever mud-caked, drool infested toy she is fancying at the moment. Once the toy is securely in her mouth she trots over (taking her sweet time) and jogs into the house. Now repeat this scenario about 43 times a day. 

And if you are really lucky the "toy" she brings with her will be something like a grasshopper carcass (which you will find on the rug hours later. . .gross!) Or on one particularly special occasion you see her canter in holding a tuft of grass in her mouth. It had been rainy the past few days so it was covered in dirt and whatnot, harmless right? WRONG! That tuft of grass turns out to be really stinky, we can't have that in the living room so I saunter over and pick it up (much to puppy's dismay) and as I am walking to the trash can I notice this grass has legs. . .take a moment to let that fully sink in (I know I did) sooooo grass should NOT have appendages. . .S*#^!!! THIS AWFUL NASTY THING IS A DEAD MOUSE!!!!! AND I'M HOLDING IT!!

Yep, hate the dog. . .a lot.

There is the culprit now. She looks innocent enough but it's all just part of her plan to lure you in. If you find yourself feeling sorry for her just take a moment to scroll back up and read the tidbit about the rodent. That should set you straight.

Maybe you are wondering why I don't stage a jail break? Perhaps I could "accidentally" leave the back gate open when I take the trash out next. Or not secure her leash the next time we go to the park. Believe me I have thought about it. . .however there is this small brown-haired little darlin' who is in love with the World's Dumbest Dog.
Case and Point.

She shares her necklaces (we call them pretties) with her and everything.

So I guess love really IS blind. . .also love must not have a very good sense of smell either cause this canine has the most terrible gas and her breath is not the freshest.

Oh well the baby gets what the baby wants. And so my good friends you shall forever know me as Cassie The DD.

Dog Despiser Over and Out.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Well Hello Hot Stuff!

Hi there! I believe introductions are in order (consider yourself lucky because under normal circumstances I always forget that part, drives my friends crazy..."Hi I'm Cassie's friend that she so rudely forgot to introduce.") Well anywho I am Cassie the-terribly-forgetful-when-it-comes-to-introducing-etiquette girl.

My reason for joining the blogging world is quite sister did and I totally copy-cated. Now normally I like to pave my own way in life, however this blogging thing seemed like it was made for me. In time I know she will come to forgive me for Kel has never been one to hold a grudge (wheww...thank goodness!!).

Some things to know about me include:

-Hate bees. Always have, always will
-I'm kinda chubby (not in a WOW-lady-lay-off-the-doughnuts kind of way, more of a my-skins-just-fluffy-I-swear kind of way)
-I am a nanny...which forever fuels my interesting moments to be shared with the world category
-Love carrots
-Hate pickles
-I have been known to balance all kinds of random objects on my head solely for my niece's delight
-Singing makes me smile
-I have the coolest Mom

I am also the kind of girl who tends to have male best friends. Normally this is wonderful but herein lies the problem, my best friend has a terrible habit of showing up at my house when I look my absolute worst. Picture a normal girl. Now pretend a squirrel has been building its nest in her hair, add a t-shirt that a 20-month-old has recently smashed animal cracker goo into and smeared mascara smudge under her eyes from the day before. Ta daaa that is me! If my best friend were a girl she would look at me with a 'its that kind of day look' and knowingly pat my shoulder. But boys are dumb...when he walks in the room he quickly tries to mask the look of complete horror with a face that says, "I was not at all afraid of you just now" and mumbles a, "You look cute." 

Excuse me Boy (that is what we call him) but I know I look like a hot mess. Which is why I have been avoiding reflective surfaces including the microwave all day! These kind of experiences happen to me on a regular basis. You are probably wondering why I don't try and look presentable more often? Well the answer to that question can be summed up in two words: Lazy and Toddler. The toddler is not lazy I am, just to be clear.

Tonight was particularly mortifying. I had just gotten home from a nice walk/jog with my sister-in-law (I am trying to slim down a bit) and I was sweating like there was no tomorrow; also my face becomes red very quickly when I exercise and stays that way for quite some time after I am done, consequently I looked like something akin to a slimy tomato and in waltzes Boy!!!

Boy lives 45 minutes away!! How could this be happening!??!!!??! I tried to dive under my pink comforter with the little man and girl teddy bears all over it, but it was too late! The damage was done. Boy says that he doesn't do these things to me on purpose but I saw this little smug look of pleasure when he saw the state I was in. I have decided this is war, granted I am loosing the war but it is war nonetheless. My goal in life is to catch boy looking like death warmed up and when I do (oh believe me I will) there will be picture proof for all to see!

Well it was lovely to meet you.