Health Gone Wild

Harambe

2016-08-01T13:10:00.000-04:00

Why am I so awful? I honestly need to know the answer to this question. In regular life, I think I am OK, but this relates specifically to pregnancy. I think there are two kinds of people; the good Pregnants and the bad Pregnants. I am the ring leader of the bads. The interesting thing about it is that your non-pregnant life is ZERO indication of how your pregnant life will be. Anyone can go from a top notch Normal to a total loser Pregnant. You just don’t know, and this is something that nobody warns you about, so I will because it’s fucking necessary.

First of all, in my regular life, I like to exercise. There was even a time where I obsessively exercised which I want to puke when I think about. In general, for me, 3-4 days a week of working out in a CrossFit class is what I enjoy, and as I age I have realized I like it to be non-competitive and non-injury provoking. Great. A lot of women don’t exercise at all, so I should be ahead of those idiots when it comes to pregnant exercise. I should be ready to continue with my workouts (which have changed to at home or at the track since I acquired a sidekick) and I will be the envy of the internet. Um, wrong. I am the envy of nobody. I was so nauseated for the first 21….count…..21….weeks of this pregnancy that I went directly to bed every night after work. Then, anytime I felt normal and thought I could try working out, the exercising would throw me back into 3-4 days of nausea. And now? I honestly think this baby is so big that it might be the reincarnation of Harambe and I run out of breath talking to people at work, let alone hitting the gym for a quick workout. Why? Because I am a bad pregnant and it is uncontrollable, which leads me into my second topic, my awful body.

I know a lot of women who never work out and look so good. I don’t know what they do, maybe they starve, maybe it’s genetics, but I see these people and they are so skinny and beautiful and I admire it. I have never been one of these women, pregnant or not. I am never going to be petite, and all you freaks need to know that every day that I walk around looking normal is a day that I am monitoring EVERYTHING I consume. With that being said, I am NOT a pregnant eater. Between the nausea, the heartburn, and this time around, the heat, I just can’t really do more than one meal a day. I don’t gain much weight either, right around 25lbs both times. The problem shows up AFTER the pregnancy. WHAT is this lump of fat I can’t get rid of under my belly button? Why do I now have cellulite on my butt that I didn’t have before? Why am I holding onto ten pounds when I am doing everything right to lose it? MEANWHILE……all the Thumbelinas who put in no work from what I can see, are 2 weeks out of pregnancy wearing bikinis. How did you do that? If I wore a bikini 2 weeks post baby someone would call the cops. How are you not still wearing a giant pad? I am just going to say this, if you are starving yourself, just say it so that people like me can understand where they are going wrong. You can private message me, you don’t need to make it your status if you don’t want to. Please make it your status.

Next up, delivery. WTF. I had a few contractions yesterday and started to cry as the thought of labor came back to me. When I had Caroline I was READY ( LOL.) I had been exercising and walking and, in my mind, I was going to be the queen. Make no mistake, I wanted all the drugs, but I was planning on getting them at a time that impressed everyone that I had been able to hold out so long. This is not what happened. I was storming the hallways flopping on the tables at 3cm demanding the epidural and saying I was close to death. The thing is, I wasn’t being dramatic, the pain was THAT BAD. Now granted, my kid was almost ten pounds, her head was enormous, and for a first labor everything was pretty rapid (11 hours), but once again, even the Grand Finale of the pregnancy, which I had envisioned being lit af, SUCKED. I sucked at birth. Pushing her out was the worst hour of my life and all my exercise didn’t even seem to factor in because I was sore all over my whole body for 2 weeks. But then you have Gladys from next door who goes in for her 38 week appointment and they tell her she’s 7 cm dilated and she didn’t even know because she was too busy not working out and looking beautiful. I will never understand this.

My point in all this is that I am a firm believer that you cannot control anything that happens to you during your pregnancy WITHIN REASON. Obviously, eating a million calories a day and blowing up is controllable, but for most normal people with normal habits, a lot of shit is going to happen that you just cannot believe. To all you good Pregnants out there, I honestly don’t know how you do it. I try so hard to glow and I just end up putting on too much bronzer and looking like one of those Russian dolls that come out of the bigger doll until you get the tiny one. And I am the biggest one.

No New Friends

2015-12-14T17:55:00.000-05:00

I am writing this from my phone. I'm already feeling like the quality of my writing will be negatively impacted. Do you ever notice that when you email from a computer you proofread, check grammar, edit the margins, include a glamour shot, etc? I mean, most of you are idiots so you definitely still make mistakes, but at least you try to make your email look like you weren't in Level 2 English, I hope.

Emailing from a phone? Forget it. It's like getting a message from Charlie Sheen. I send the most ridiculous shit to people from this thing and don't think twice about it. Is that awful? Don't tell me to put a " please excuse mistakes, I'm on my phone" message at the bottom, I'm only 30. If I do that, I'll have to put a signature on my texts and then I might as well just check into assisted living. WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT? It's the fucking phone mentality. I'm not even sorry.

Recently I posted a status about those dumb articles Moms write about shit nobody cares about. Sometimes they are literally about shit nobody cares about. I would like to address this whole " Mommy Culture" thing by dismissing it. Does that make sense? IT IS NOT A REAL THING. If you think it's a real thing, you need some guidance. Lucky you, here I am typing crazy on my phone. Think of it like this.....

People have been having children and raising them since, I honestly don't know when because I have no idea how old the Earth is. It's been a really fucking long time. Despite this 100% scientific fact that people have been around for an amount of time that is long AF, everyone these days seems to think they are the first person to ever have a kid. Not only that, they also think they can mess the kid up with one mistake while the whole world watches and laughs their asses off. This is just simply not true.

Kids are great. Babies are greater. I like the pictures, I like hearing that a pregnant person had her baby, I like it all. Beyond the funny stories and cute pictures, I don't give a shit. I am not judging and I do not care.Give your baby a bottle of Mountain Dew if you want. I will whisper " What the fuck?" and go on with my day. Breastfeed your kid until he drives, I will have the same reaction. Moms need to stop pretending that everyone is watching, because literally nobody is watching unless you are being stalked which is awesome and you must have done a great job losing the baby weight for someone to obsess over you. Congrats.

Other thing. If we were never friends in life, I DO NOT WANT TO BE FRIENDS BECAUSE WE HAVE CHILDREN. I get it, parents have different lives than non- parents, but why do you need to have friends with exactly the same life as you? I have been the childless person who goes to their friend's house to watch Frozen 100 times just to spend time with them. I've also had a friend understandingly cut a dinner short when Caroline went apeshit for no reason. There is definitely some give and take for both parties involved, but we are all adults here. I want friends that I already know I like. Why the hell do moms think they need mom friends from the internet? I will never befriend anyone just because they also have a 1 year old. Then drag Nick to hang out with the husband.......tf is wrong with people? Hard pass on that.

I feel like this was an extra angry rant. I think it's because I care less since I'm typing on a phone. I've had a lot of text message battles in my day, so maybe I'm carrying over that vibe. I like this vibe I feel a little bit Janice Dickinson. Worry about your own kids and do what works for you. You are doing the best you can. Nobody is judging except maybe your mom friends from the Internet. Ditch them, trust me they are used to it.

* Please excuse mistakes, I'm on my phone.*

Don't Be THAT Mom.

2014-09-26T10:29:00.000-04:00

I am 8 weeks away from having this baby. I can’t wait because I want to see what and who this kid is. Anyone who is newly pregnant or is thinking of becoming pregnant, I can’t urge you strongly enough to NOT find out what you are having. The wondering is the main factor getting me through these last 2 months.

I noticed when you ask other moms if they found out what they were having and the answer is “yes” they ALWAYS follow it up with “we wanted to prepare.” You don’t owe me an excuse. You can admit that you just couldn’t wait. I don’t believe the preparation BS for one second. You just WANTED TO KNOW. That is fine. Own it. I am surprised that I was able to do this without caving in. No excuses play like a champion.

Another thing I noticed about pregnant/new mothers is that they lie their heads off about everything. If I didn’t have the most honest friends and mother in the world, I wouldn’t know ANYTHING about all the gross shit that happens in pregnancy. Moms are SO obsessed with acting perfect. It’s so bizarre. NOBODY ENJOYS EVERY SECOND OF PREGNANCY. Want to know the things that have happened to me? My boobs leak. If I walk for more than 15 minutes it feels like I have balls. Recently I have these 10-15 minute insane streams of thought where I think I ruined my life by getting pregnant. I don’t like it when the baby hiccups for hours on end. My hips ache. I have trouble breathing when I exercise. I can’t really shave my legs at all. I have bacne. Want me to go on?

I guess I just don’t understand why mothers pretend that these things don’t happen. Is it for fear of seeming like a bad mother? Well guess what….you can post as many pictures of your happy baby on Facebook as you want….I know that one time his bottle burned his mouth. Or you let him sit in a shitty diaper for 2 hours before realizing it. Or he fell out of the swing. I am not saying post “OMG my kid drank anti-freeze” on the Internet for the world to see, but Jesus Christ, the amount of expecting and current moms judging one another and acting like they are perfect is sickening to me. I have no idea what I am going to do with this baby when it comes out, and that is perfectly fine. Right now, it drives around all day with me listening to Drake because I am white and 29. We will probably just continue doing that. My baby will be just as great as yours.

I think my main point of all of this is that I am not a fan of pregnant and new mothers who are SUCH MOMS. Like…keep a little of your identity. If your biggest accomplishment is keeping your mom fails a secret so that you can judge others, you are the absolute worst. I may have a child, but I am not infallible. I am a mess. Kids need to see that their mothers are people with likes, and opinions and senses of humor. You can be an excellent mother without jamming a stick up your ass. From what I have seen, a lot of people opted for the stick.

Not Boring Post....I guess?

2014-07-21T21:23:00.004-04:00

I write a lot considering how infrequently I post anything. I always think I have this great idea, start writing, lose focus and just end up with some piece of shit paragraph about how I drank 4 Gatorades in 2 hours (I did.) I am always afraid that my writing is so boring which I now realize is such a 2002 fear. We are living in Facebook time. People will read anything. Like...almost every day on my newsfeed there is a wordsearch that 4,965 people comment on saying the first 3 words they saw, so this blog definitely cant be the worst part of your day. I mean, it’s no “ Where would you have disintegrated in Hiroshima?” quiz, but I think it’s pretty OK.

As far as this baby goes, I honestly don’t have that much to report. The growing is constant. The cute, pregnant lady I had pictured that I would be for my entire life does not exist. I have always been giant and now I am just more giant. I am definitely not exploding like Jessica Simpson (I haven’t even eaten one PopTart with butter on it), but it is hard to be cute when you are 5’8 with a size 10 shoe to begin with. The enormous belly doesn’t help my lack of adorableness. In my next life I am coming back as one of those white, baby seals. Or the smallest, youngest member of the U.S. Olympic gymnastics team who steals America’s heart. Tiniest white seal in a leotard would be the best option.

One interesting thing is that we do not know if Baby Ray is a boy or a girl. For some reason this drives people to insanity. Everyone thinks that we absolutely must have a perfect pink or blue room ready for our legally blind bundle of joy that doesn’t know one thing about anything. Babies can’t see! Babies are so dumb! They also don’t really leave the house and do you want to know how I dress when I don’t leave my house? Wicked ugly. Of course we are going to have a nursery for our baby and buy it nice, comfortable clothing, but I can’t see myself, 15 years down the road, sitting in family counseling because my kid didn’t have a “ Handsome Like Daddy” onesie smashed onto his body one minute after birth. That being said, I completely understand wanting to know what your baby is because I am so, so, so nosy and terrible by nature. But guess what? I am always happy and I always click “like” when you announce your baby’s gender on Facebook, so just let me have my gray room filled with weird, beige bunny clothes. Thanks.

So, overall, I feel great. I still do my regular workouts (though a little modified) and I walk a few days a week. My boobs are so weird but I don’t want to talk about it. My appetite is low to normal with the occasional “ Eat like Magic Johnson’s son” day thrown in (watch Rich Kids of Beverly Hills.) My weight gain is actually low (in a good way, not a scary way) which I will casually mention to anyone who will listen until the day I die. My arms, face and neck have since depuffed from the pictures taken of me at my cousin Meg’s wedding when I was 12 weeks pregnant #blessed. Everything is good!

I apologize if reading this took time away from finding out what happens if you stare at 3 dots for 15 seconds and then look quickly at a picture of a donkey wearing a dildo on its head. Sometimes the best things come to those who wait.

The Bad and the Ugly

2014-06-16T19:07:00.000-04:00

I am so blind. I can’t even read anything I type. I have to squint and pull on my eye to move my contact lens around, it’s awful. If my kid is blind I will know it is my fault and I will feel like a bad mother. Glasses babies are cute as hell, but to never know what it’s like to just wake up and SEE??? It’s unfair. Trust me. If I ever got stranded on an island or like, at the gas station one mile from my house, with no contacts or glasses….I would be dead. I would just flop down on the beach, or in the middle of Route 1, and will myself to death. I can’t put my kid through that.

Passing on bad traits to my child is something I think about a lot. I only need 5 minutes of silence to start thinking about death and diseases and tons of other tragedies, so 18 weeks has given me plenty of time to ponder all the ways my kid could suck. In fact, I even made a list.

1) Blindness – As I said, glasses babies are cute. But once the baby turns into a kid who goes to school, anything a bespectacled child says is automatically a billion times more annoying than if a non-glasses kid says it. Think about it. Normal kid says “What is 2+3?” and you’re like “ 5…good question.” Glasses kid asks same question and you’re like “Whyyyy are you Urkel?” Major problem.

2) Bossiness – Oh my God am I bossy. I will boss the living shit out of anyone. Do I have any idea when I’m doing it? Nope. I mean, I am 28 and I just kind of, sort of, started to realize that I am bossy because my brother Mike mentions it every 5 minutes. Who knows how many people hate me at this point, probably millions.

3) Food Obsession – This speaks for itself. I could give birth to a fatty round head. Which leads me to…

4) Round head…..again, self-explanatory.

5) BAD AT MATH. SO BAD. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO BORROW. LIKE….IN SUBTRACTION…CAN’T DO IT.

6) Loud – Don’t ask me if I know how loud I’m talking….I don’t.

7) General Lack of Empathy – I don’t cry at Sarah McLachlan commercials. I would cry at a Sara McLaughlin commercial if she was in despair, but I don’t have the ability to really think beyond my circle. Don’t judge me, I’m not evil. I just am not like my sister who would cry over a dead chipmunk in South Korea. #blacksoul

I could go on, but I think I have made myself look bad enough. I guess I pose this question….is it normal to fear your bad traits may get passed to your kid? Another question…should I do a post of Nick’s bad traits? HA. I could have him write it about himself, but you wouldn’t get to read it until after my baby had already grown up with the roundest head, fattest body, F’s in math and the soul of a demon. Nick performs daily tasks at the same speed as the Queen of England.

I am the Mother of a 3 Inch Baby

2014-05-13T16:25:00.001-04:00

It is a weird feeling when you realize that you are old enough for pregnancy to be a good thing. But here I am! Old, married, knocked up and there is nothing anybody can do about it. I still say knocked up even though I am pretty sure the father is my very own husband, Nick. And I still make jokes like that even though I am technically 3/10 of a mom and should be 3/10 on my way to a Subaru and a bowl cut. WELCOME TO YOUR WEIRD LIFE, LIL RAY RAY!!!!!

Finding out you are pregnant is really strange. You are so happy but also so confused even though the confusion doesn’t make any sense. I found out that I wasn’t the only one in the room in particularly bizarre fashion, too. I don’t think that will surprise anybody. I had been feeling terrible and had extreme, supersonic level heartburn, so I decided a pregnancy test might be in order. I peed on the stick, looked at it for one second, saw one line and threw it out. The next day I saw it in the trash with 2 lines. I don’t even have the patience to focus for 3 minutes on a pregnancy test. I can’t wait to devote a million years to a child.

Telling Nick involved zero fanfare. I handed him the test and made a weird face. He was so elated which was cute because, again, I said I am PRETTY sure I know he’s the father. His instantaneous happiness brought me from my state of quiet panic into his world of blatant excitement and I returned his physically and proverbially giant smile with my normal sized one. Precious moments.

Currently I am nearing the end of my first trimester, which I hear is a good thing. I am so nauseated constantly and I can’t wait for the day when I can eat normally. There are several times every day where I feel my only two options are CheezIts or death. Having your life on the line so many times a day would be exhausting for anyone, let alone a mildly in shape pregnant girl with questionable sanity and morals.

For the most part I have been lucky. I have not vomited to the point where the vomit has actually left my body. My heartburn only feels like I swallowed dynamite sometimes. I get only 2-3 new pimples a day (could be like, 4.) The nausea is constant, but I can still function as long as I permanently look angry. And finally, I am only one week away from this supposed kick ass, wonderland called the 2^nd trimester. Oh, I forgot the worst symptom….I am SO short of breath all the time that people are scared of me. YES.

I hope to be able to post updates here and there, but for the love of God don’t hold me to any sort of schedule. I am not the first person on Earth to have a baby, so I don’t think that the details of my pregnancy are something you would be beating down the door for. Also, I can barely take out my one contact lens without a taking a water break and I am considering being Med Flighted somewhere after the amount of sweating this one post caused me. Low expectations lead to pleasant surprises.

In all seriousness though, I think you have to have a sense of humor in pregnancy and parenthood to get through it without turning into an awful person to be around. You can’t let becoming a mom change you into a boring idiot who is all of a sudden offended by everything. All jokes aside, we are so excited for this baby, but neither Nick nor I plan on changing who we are to become what some book says we should be. This baby will probably know 2 Chainz before it can even count to 2 and guess what…..it will turn out just fine.

Hopefully I post again before 2015. But don’t hold your breath. It scares people when you are gasping for air I’ve heard.

Typical Girl Award

2013-03-04T14:02:00.003-05:00

For a good portion of my life, I was the same. I liked my comfort zone. I thought everything that I personally didn’t do was weird. So like, if you told me 6 years ago that you did karate I never would have spoken to you again and I would have told everyone you did karate while laughing. I was THE BEST.

I think that at age 16, I became sort of a “real person” (meaning I would probably not die or call Ms. Cleo for 2 hours if left alone for a day) and for approximately the next 8 years, I stayed that same exact person. The kind of person that only did things that could not possibly stir up any judgment from anyone; and also the kind of person who judged the shit out of everyone else. I didn’t try new food. I wore all the cool trends, even when the trend was low rider jeans and my muffin top was 50 inches wide. I drank vodka sodas at bars that I stood in line for an hour to get into. I ran for 45 minutes on the treadmill 5 days a week listening to Black Eyed Peas . Honestly, I can’t say for sure if at the time I thought I was happy, or if I just have embarrassment induced amnesia, but when I look back at that time period I wish I could go back and strangle myself with my Coach “wristlet.” The word “wristlet” is fucking ridiculous. And Coach isn’t really for white people anymore FYI.

In general, when I look back at my life so far, I feel like I wasted a lot of time trying to be cool. In my social circle, that meant having the newest clothes, going to popular bars, bragging about your cardio routine, eating grilled chicken wraps, and constantly being in head to head competition with your “best friends.” I ALWAYS lost in the “being the skinniest” department and still do. But the friends that I have now, some of them right out of this very group I speak of, have also given up on this weird, fake, race to be the best at being typical, and have become their own weird, awesome, selves. They would rather die than talk about running and compare clothes and we are usually too busy eating and laughing to do that anyways.

However you look at it, following the crowd sucks. All it does is make you so self conscious and jealous of the person who ate 2 less bites of her chicken wrap…..bitch. The sooner you figure this out the better it is going to be for you, just so you know. If you let this go on too long and become an old person running around trying to find yourself, everyone will judge you and this time you will deserve it. Get it together sooner rather than later. I am not saying how old “old” is so shut up.

My point in all this is that the Haley of today is way better than the Haley of yesterday. The Haley of Christmas past would never write this blog. I used to turn my papers in upside down in class so nobody could see my feelings. These days I am so full of public emotion and you freaks keep lining up for more. Likewise, I haven’t followed a fashion trend in 3 years and I get more compliments on my outfits than I ever did when I wore a “shrug” or a skinny pastel belt or giant hoop earrings that made me look like TBoz.I am in a competition with no one and it feels GREAT. Not to sound cliché, but you have to let your freak flag fly before it’s too late. Everybody is too worried about themselves to give a shit about how far you ran, how much your purse cost, or how well you described slitting your wrists in your black journal with a skull on it ( I am assuming that Emos have some sort of popularity scale as well), so just do what you goddamn want. You will thank me for this someday, but I probably won’t know what you are talking about.

Here I am at " Hot Dog on a Stick" carrying around an eraser or 5 ants in my tiny wristlet. As you can see, I was someone to envy.

The title of this post was inspired by my uncle, George “Pilotwhale” Hayden. A great living example of rebelling against conformity…especially with his internet persona.

Extreme Danger...May Die Today

2013-02-28T16:16:00.002-05:00

The other day I saw a post on Facebook that said something like “Even if a bitch aint one…99 problems is still a lot of fucking problems.” You know what? That’s like, REALLY true. I have approximately 4 problems, one of them being that I can’t find my favorite pair of tights, and I might kill myself at any moment. If I could slowly chip away at my problems until I had none, I would be as happy as Obama motorboating Blue Ivy at a Marxist themed luncheon. But even if I did manage to find my tights, stop watching the Kardashians for 5 hour stints, and get a record deal…I just don’t think there is anything I can do about my NUMBER ONE PROBLEM IN THE WORLD…coyotes. There are so many reasons that I hate coyotes that I think a list is the best way to go here….ughhh…I am ready to puke….

REASONS I HATE COYOTES

1) WTF is a coyote? Are you a wolf? Are you a fox? You know what…I don’t care what you are because I already know that you are FRICKEN DISGUSTING. Your face looks like the guy from Boardwalk Empire and your body looks like Mary Kate Olsen on all fours.

2) They are obsessed with me. If I am driving at any time other than the middle of the day, a Mary Kate will run right in front of my car looking all tense and freaky. If I am on my porch with my beautiful, little Millie, they are clomping around in the woods waiting to eat her and barf her up (bulimia.) I mean, I can’t even sleep with the window open without them banding together and yipping like one of those weird naked African tribes right outside my window. Once I saw one stand under a streetlight until I looked right at it and then it ran away. Dick.

3) I can’t do anything about them. You can’t shoot coyotes except for during a certain time of year and you can’t shoot within 500 feet of a house. So basically, you can all just pretend I have AIDS because eventually one of these assholes is going to maul me to death in my own yard. It just makes no sense to me that this predator is allowed to roam around and we can’t even get super drunk and shoot them out of our bedroom windows. I equate my current real life situation to the hypothetical scenario of being locked in a room with the Craigslist Killer. In this scenario, I am just sexy, awesome Haley and the Craigslist Killer is a psycho, scrawny murderer, but the big twist is that he is also “protected.” We have to live in this room together, and he has guns, knives, handcuffs, obviously his Red Sox hat, and he is incredibly ready to cut off my underwear and shoot me in the face. I, on the other hand, only have the option to sit there and wait to die. Think about that and tell me my life doesn’t suck.

4) Daisy Simpson.( Daisy Lachey?) Say what you want about big, fat Jessica….that dog was cute and a coyote ate it. That’s like, really sad.

5) NOBODY BELIEVES ME. I will admit, the amount of coyote encounters that I have is bizarre, BUT IT’S THE F*CKING TRUTH. At least once a week I see a coyote, and at least once every other night I hear them. I come running inside and say “ I just saw 2 coyotes in the street!!!!!” thinking that it’s a big deal and we should call 911. Nick just stares at the TV and lets the Peruvian drug lord with the blurred out face finish his interview and then says “ It was probably a squirrel.” OK maybe I have more problems than I thought.

I hope this post clearly explains to you all that I am in severe danger. If anyone has any coyote advice, I need it. In the meantime, I have been noticing that a lot of my Facebook “friends” don’t really seem to have their acts together at all, and I have a job for one lucky lost soul. You can be my coyote bodyguard in exchange for life/wardrobe advice. We will have such a great time and it can be our little secret. That’s a lie, I don’t keep secrets.

I cant figure out how to attach photos! Sorry! I am a big idiot.

Here I Am!!!!

2012-05-18T11:09:00.001-04:00

I decided to come back with a bang. I want to talk about politics. Well, I should rephrase that. I want to talk about how I want to punch Uncle Sam in the dick when people blow up my newsfeed with political bullshizz. You all need to stop that. Facebook is for judging people who have babies out of wedlock, not summarizing congressional hearings. How people haven’t figured this out by now is beyond me, but it’s a damn good thing I am here to set you all straight.

The first issue that I have with posting about politics on Facebook is that it’s BORING. I am not saying that paying attention to politics is boring because I think it’s important to be informed, but nobody cool is reading your stupid article about how Al Gore has a tiny penis. I might read that.

Aside from being boring, posting about politics creates problems. It almost always starts some 45 comment long chain of 2 people (Nick Ray and faceless individual) going back and forth and hating each other at the end. And while the two debaters hate each other at the end, everyone else wants to murder them around comment #3. Get a grip. Post about cats.

Another thing that really grinds my gears is that the people who post about politics are usually posting something negative. “Obama sucks, Scott Brown sucks”…you know something YOU suck. Be positive or be canceled from my newsfeed and trust me you DON’T want that. If I hide your updates because you are sitting there smiling like an asshole and posting articles about how Ron Paul farted on Tuesday, I am not going to see when you actually post something good and leave you an awesome comment. Suck on that.

I think what people don’t realize is that when they try to post articles making an entire political party look ignorant, THEY are the ones who look ignorant. You can’t generalize like that. Some people vote the way their parents vote and don’t care to question it. Some people are followers, go to college and become super crazy liberals that even regular liberals hate. Some people vote based on what the president looks like. Most people don’t vote at all, so why can’t we just be happy that some people actually put down the crack pipe and go to the polls in the first place. I put that crack pipe down and never looked back. Maybe I looked back a few times. But for real, if you really want to post about politics so bad that you might die, why don’t you just invent politicsbook.com and don’t f*cking invite me to be on it? Yay!

I know I might have just left a lot of you thinking “ OMG..what should I post about if I can’t bore everyone with the details of Elizabeth Warren’s pap smear?” but don’t fret my pets. You can always post about the following topics: Chipotle, marine mammals, JonBenet Ramsey, most shows on TLC and anything to do with Precious. Those always get a guaranteed “Like” from your very favorite blogger.

Welcome back to myself!

Reflections of the Traveling Pants

2011-11-04T17:10:00.001-04:00

I know that I have been ignoring my blog. I really am sorry about it too, because I know what its like when a website that you check all the time stops being interesting. I have a rotation of sites I visit that includes, Facebook, People.com, Craigslist (missed encounters m4w and pets), and my gmail. I would be absolutely pissed if people stopped putting up posts to find “ women in ford Explorir looking hot on root 9,” so I get why you are mad. I have been doing a lot of traveling which cuts into my time to write, but creates so many chances for reflection. So I will reflect. This is me reflecting on variety of topics...

Anthropology

There are no black people in Wyoming. Not one. Also, there are no black people in Iowa. I don't really know what would happen if one showed up, but now that Hootie is a country singer, we should be finding out any day! I can't wait!

Cuisine

You cannot get a black iced coffee in any state in the Midwest. You can make your own black iced coffee at gas stations in the South, but in the South there is an invisible line between normal suburbs and the ghetto and you NEVER know when you cross it. You can be driving along looking at white picket fences and before you know what is happening you are surrounded by 3 legged dogs and Cutlass Supremes with 24 inch rims. Be selective about where you purchase your self service coffee when you are below the Mason Dixon.

Also, the best food in the world is in the Northeast. We are so spoiled here in Boston with delicious Italian food and fresh seafood and Big Jim Melanson. I mean maybe you can get some good BBQ in the south and tons of corn in Iowa, but the staples (burgers, breakfast, anything Italian, margaritas) are the best right here in New England.

Exercise

Working out alone sucks. I have worked out alone in hotel gyms as well as hospital gyms. I have visited two other CrossFit gyms, and all the people have been just as nice as they are at my gym. Not as weird or as loud, but just as nice. Also, despite popular belief, other CrossFit gyms are not places where every single athlete is elite and better than you. In fact, they are absolutely full of fatties and weaklings and geriatrics. You're a star!

Hotels

Hotels are f*cking disgusting. I dont touch the comforter and try as hard as possible to not walk around barefoot. They all bake cookies and think that it makes up for the fact that 16 homeless men had an orgy on the comforter that you are now cuddling up to your face. The clickers are covered in all kinds of disease carrying fluids.

Hotels are also lonely and sometimes scary. For some reason, I always find myself at hotels that are also occupied by large groups of traveling construction workers ( I dont even know.) They drink Miller Lites in the parking lot and stare at me with their dirty fingernails and poorly wiped asses. A nice reminder again, of who/what was wrapped up in my blankets before I checked in.

Air Travel

Oh here is where the fun starts. Where should I begin. First of all, a plane ride is a bad time to breastfeed. There are pumps for that shit. Bring a bottle. Especially when you are in the middle seat and I am in the window seat with a bladder full of my last black coffee for 5 days. Get a grip.

Second, if you know you are a loud breather, dont travel. I cant deal with it. I can only wear headphones for so long before the insides of my ears hurt and then I am forced to listen to you breathing like an asshole. Just stay home if you cant control the volume of your nostrils.

Third, dont eat on the plane if you chew like a donkey wearing a mouth guard. Thats all I will say about that.

Finally (and most importantly) if you are over the age of 6, take all your giant shits before you get on the plane. Adults should know their schedule. I stand FIRMLY by my belief that unless you have food poisoning, a stomach flu, or took 15 laxatives, you should know what time you usually have to go. No adult should ever have to be at a party and take a crap. Or on a plane. Or at a beerfest ( I got into a fight in a port-a-potty line over this.) Its just RIDICULOUS that any adult would expect me to believe that their shits sneak up on them at any possible time. I will never change my mind on this. F*ckin people.

And there you have it. This is what I have learned from traveling the country. Wyoming is awesome. Iowa is not so awesome. South Carolina is similar to Brockton. Planes suck. Hotels usually suck. I wish I had some more worldly things to say, but I don't. I drove all the way to Yellowstone and didn't have any money to get in. I think that sentence is a wonderful analogy for my whole life.

SEE?????

Christmas is Comin'

2011-09-09T13:07:00.002-04:00

Its cold. Well, Its kinda cold. I love it. I am happy to say goodbye to summer. The summer makes my hair look like Little Richard.

Anyways, the cold weather reminded me of Christmas, which reminded me of something I need to talk about immediately. Christmas Cards. I dont know how to tie this into health, so I will just say that you are reeeeeallllly effing with my mental stability when you send me a Christmas card, SO PLEASE SAVE YOUR MONEY AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

First of all. Unless you are legally married or have been together for so long that people truly do not know if you are married or not, DO NOT, send out a Christmas card from “us.” Because GUESS WHAT? Its not from “us.” Its from the girl trying to show all her friends that she has a boyfriend and move the relationship faster then it needs to go. If you get one of those, consider it a threat from a lunatic and immediately panic. This is a clear warning that when this relationship goes south (which it will), you will either be friends with a dead person or a murderer. Cut these assholes out of your life NOW.

If you are actually married, and feel the compelling need to waste your time and money sending me a Christmas card with no money in it that I am going to just rip in half with my mouth and punch a wall, FINE send it. BUT DO NOT INCLUDE A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. You are a grown adult. So is your husband or wife. You are not cute. I have Facebook, I can see in 775 different pictures that you are just as ugly as always. For the love of God, NEVER SEND ME A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. Its weird and I am going to hate it.

That being said, I dont mind pictures of kids. If they are cute its nice and if they are fug it gives me a good laugh. Likewise, animals are fun. A nice picture of your kids in front of a Christmas tree doesn't piss me of that much, but if you send me a picture of your baby painted like a candy cane coming out of the ass of your antler wearing dog, I am going to cut you out. Or just cut you.

I want to end by asking, WHY WOULD ANYONE SEND ME A CARD ANYWAYS? I am one of those people that offers nothing. There is nothing that you, as an individual, need from me to get ahead in your own life. Send a card to your boss. Send a card to your in-laws who hate you. Don't send a card to me. You don't need a loser like me judging you.

Swedish Fish and Despair

2011-08-18T11:14:00.004-04:00

Look, I know I haven't blogged in months, so everyone can stop reminding me. I am pretty sure that you have never written one blog post in your life so shut the hell up about me not posting for two months. I was conjuring up a list of ideas for a post that will blow your little minds. I lost that list, so you get to read this bullshiz....Enjoy!

So far in this blog I have blabbed on and on about the benefits of Paleo and Crossfit as if I just had this perfect,indestructible life of exercise and animal flesh where nothing could ever go wrong. And thats how it was for awhile. But, sometimes the smallest inexplicable shift in your brain can change your mindset toward things, and thats what happened to me recently. Without completely giving up, I gave up. Here is my story. Get the tissues. All donations to my credit card bill.

I went off the deep end. I just got into this weird 3 month funk where I became less of a Paleo/CrossFit machine and more of just a normal human (gross.) I extended my beloved “cheat day” to two, and then three, and sometimes even FOUR days a week. I lost my competitive drive in the gym which is baffling because I still couldn't play Wheel of Fortune without screaming and standing up (even when I was by myself.) I was burnt the f*ck out, and I just didn't know how to handle it.

The major problem was that I thought I could do whatever I wanted because I wasn't a fat mess. Lalala, I'm a size 4, I can eat 1000 Blizzards..BOOM...I'm Christina Aguilera but slightly less trannylicious ( I HOPE.) All my shorts from last summer look like they would fit an infant. I would go to the gym to try to work off this extra “bloat” as I called it when I was in denial, but working out is hard with a belly full of sugary little red fish and my times on workouts were just getting worse and worse. Instead of leaving the gym feeling great, I would sit in my car for ten minutes after a WOD wondering if I had let myself go beyond repair. I felt stupid for caring so much, and it just became a vicious cycle of overeating and underperforming. I was on the path to becoming a mega fatty and I needed a good punch in the junk ASAP. Unfortunately, that never came, and I was forced to realize the truth. I am the conductor of my own life, and the fatass train is stopping here.

I wish I could say that some major event triggered me to get back on track, but my life is too boring for that. Luckily, the mundane act of waking up every day feeling like the fattest, ugliest loser on the planet for 90 straight days was enough to do the trick. PLEASE DO NOT WRITE ME HEARTFELT MESSAGES TELLING ME NOT TO KILL MYSELF. Fat, skinny, tan, pale, bloated....I will always be obsessed with myself so chill the f*ck out. I think everyone, (and I will say women especially, although that may offend any extra sensitive men out there,) at some point goes through a phase where they just negative self talk themselves into the ground. Life wouldn't be life without ups and downs, but it it would certainly be a sad life if you didn't take advantage of the downs and use them to fuel your next up! This sounds like a informational pamphlet on how to be a drug addict.

Alright. I'm done. I just wanted to write this post to explain why I haven't blogged in awhile, and also to put the message out there that EVERYONE feels bad sometimes. If you are currently sucking at everything, its OK! Take some time and sit for awhile in your own misery, but when you are good and ready, slap yourself across your fat face and declare that you are ready to kick some ass. Everyone feels like a burning bag of dicks at some point, but you gotta take the advice of my man Jerry and just keep truckin on. He was a fat f*ck and even he managed to pull it off for awhile. I have only been back on track for 4 days and I already think I have graduated from a drunk and puffy Christina Aguilera to more of an extremely motivated, pregnant, ostrich. HOORAY!

CrossFit Northeast Regionals 2011

2011-06-22T10:29:00.003-04:00

Congratulations to Dawn Marie, owner, coach and friend to everyone at CrossFit508 for finishing as the 21st fittest woman in the Northeast at the Regionals last weekend!

All of my BFF's showed up to eat, drink (shhh), and cheer on the competitors in the strongest sun ever. Seriously, my face is peeling off.

DM told us that her judge asked if all that cheering was only for her when she was out there doin her thang. It was. We are really loud. And cute as hell.

PS: You didn't think I wouldn't mention good ole "No Rep" did you? Shout out to Dawn for judging all day and getting some sick new Reebok sneakers for her efforts. She has to know she will never, ever, live down that reputation.

YEAH BUDDY!

Don't Worry....Be Freakin Happy!!!!!

2011-06-22T10:26:00.002-04:00

I am wondering why self help books are so popular. Its almost as if people don't even know what they like. This makes me think that I am doing OK in life, because if you came up to me and said “ Haley, what do you like?” I could tell you in ten seconds. Even though I technically asked this question to myself, I will tell you anyways. I like the following things; food, blankets, hilarious people, writing, pretending my cats can talk, gum, headbands, sexy ass men, CVS nose drops, sleeping, and my own strange sense of fashion. While we are on the topic, here is a severely shortened list of things I hate; dolphins, Anne Hathaway, Bacardi, Tyler Perry's House of Pain, technology, people from India, huge ugly earrings that match your shirt, calamari, coffee flavored things, outspoken liberals, standing in a weird crowded bar pretending its so fun, and people who fake laugh at the end of every sentence. There are way more, but it could get offensive, racist (more so than it already is), and maybe even illegal, so I will end the hate list there.

The point of this is, I KNOW what makes me happy. There is never a day when I wake up from my 15 hour slumber and wonder “ Hmmm...today I think I will put on my best matching shirt/earring combo and go out for a nice calamari lunch to discuss welfare policies with Sheryl Crowe.” No thank you. If I want to be happy I get some gum, slap on a headband, and go to the mall to buy more gum and headbands. I don't need Dr. Phil to tell me that I would enjoy a nice shopping spree more than hanging myself in an elementary school playground. You people are so lost these days. Just do what you like and shut up about it. Great, now I am all worked up.

So this blog is my declaration that I will never buy a self-help book in my life. Nobody can tell me exactly what makes me happy except ME. At the beginning of 2011, I posted about changing my life to cut out all the bullshit. Well guess what? I did it, and this year has been awesome. I took a look at what I liked to do, and I did it. Now I am skinnier, stronger, happier, my boobs are way huger, and I feel good about who I am as a person. Not one of those things is a lie.

The greatest part about this is, technically this is a self-help blog and you just read it. So now I think you are a big freak. But seriously, anyone who knows me I think would agree that even though most people bother the living crap out of me, I am pretty happy with myself. Not in a self centered kind of way, more in the sense that I am not going to sit around and bitch about hating life but do nothing to change it. In a world where few days go smoothly, happiness is a choice. Its your decision whether you want to smile through it, or declare yourself depressed and buy some dumb book because you have a dead car battery and explosive diarrhea. I say bring on the f*cking diarrhea. If its true that you only get one life, spend it doing what you enjoy, not waiting for some asshole with a book deal to tell you what you like. And that's all I have to say about that.

Hypothetical Fun

2011-05-27T10:53:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I think God hates me. I don't hate the rain. When it was raining for one thousand days, I didn't care that much. Toward the end I realized it was making me hungrier and that was upsetting because I don't need to get fatter, but overall, the eternal monsoon did not bother me so much.

But now that the sun is out, I realized how much of an impact the weather has on my mood. I am smiling and talking and sweating...its wonderful. But then, just when I thought things were going so swell, God remembered that I am not allowed to enjoy anything and gave me the worst case of PMS in the history of hormones. I apologize to the male readers out there, but I just need to get this out. I can't stand the sound of anyone's voice. I didn't bring a lunch today and the cafeteria is serving FLOUNDER. Nick's face makes me want to blow up the house. I am on the brink of mass murder. Happy Memorial Day weekend!

This post really has nothing to do with the weather or my womanhood at all, that was just an expression of raw emotion and passion. The real post is about something I noticed the other day that needs to be discussed in this blog because it pissed me the f off.

So lets create a hypothetical situation here...Anyone who knows me knows I love hypothetical situations so I am really pumped about this. OK, so in this scenario you really want to make some money so you can be ballin and put some sick rims on your ride. After countless hours of brainstorming, you come up with the idea that you are going to walk around with a 30 pack of Keystones and offer one to any homeless person who is willing to pee in a bucket. Then, when you have a big enough supply of rancid piss, you are going to sell the idea to grocery stores as an energy drink. We will call it...Golden Shower.

After a few weeks of urination station, you actually manage to convince some stores to carry Golden Shower. However, sales are not what your expected and your car still only has 3 hubcaps. But then, miraculously, you receive a call from the FDA. They want you to know that homeless people are now much happier in major cities all over the country because not only are they getting free beer, but this whole piss business is making them feel like they have a purpose. The FDA wants to cut you a deal. They get a portion of the piss profits, and in exchange, they are going to fund 75% of your Keystone purchases and consult with YOU over the design of the 2011 Food Pyramid. Hepatitis Martini anyone???

The point of this story is, you would have people sucking homeless piss for breakfast, lunch and dinner if this really happened to you. And even though this particular scenario may never happen (yes it will,) in a way this is EXACTLY what is going on in America today. I saw a sign in my work cafeteria called “2010 Food Guidelines” and it went on and on and on about the importance of whole grains. Further inspection of this sign revealed that it was a product of General Mills.BULLLLLSHITTTTT. Whole grains are the Golden Shower of General Mills. They would have to be mothereffing idiots to not include as many grains on that sign as possible. Grains are not healthy, they are a business. A humungous business that the government makes big bucks off of. Thankfully, I am here to tell you this so you can become super smart and awesome but still not as pretty as me. I'm not a miracle worker.

Grains suck. That's the bottom line. So next time you go to eat your stupid “heart healthy” Kashi crap, think about Golden Shower and yell “hell no!” and punt the box out the window for the homeless people. I am pretty sure they will appreciate the excitement because they aren't going to have much to do until I can save up enough quarters to buy some Keystones.

Life Lessons From a True Genius

2011-05-13T16:38:00.003-04:00

I made up a phrase and people hate it. NEVER have I had the experience where I used this phrase on someone and they were like “ I get it, that makes sense. You are so beautiful and smart I want to take you through the Dairy Queen drive-thru so many times.” Nope. Everyone hates it. I made up this phrase as a way to respond to people when they ask me why I so often prioritize exercise over fun things like binge drinking and unprotected sex with strangers. I say “ You have to give and take. And you have to pick and choose when you take.” I get the feeling that when I say this, people start to feel awkward because they don't ever really say anything back. This will have no impact on my use of this phrase.

Admittedly, this little saying could use some work. I mean, people aren't going to put that in their Facebook profiles with tons of :) ***** <3 <3 **** around it. But I have never been one to try and please the people, and I think that this phrase relays the point I am trying to make quite well. YOU CAN'T JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ALL THE TIME. Maybe for one year you can, but eventually it will catch up with you and you will just be sitting there all alone staring at your fat body and empty bank account and probably wondering “ why did this happen to me????” I can tell you why. BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

We all know that eating is fun. We all know that drinking is fun. Put the two together and I am showing up even if I wasn't invited. I had a brief stint where every single day my life was a party. I lived at home and had a shitbox car, so all my money was extra and I was ready to spend it on Twisted Teas and Applebee's (rhyming.) You know what happened to me? I got fat, I got acne, I saved no money, and LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING...beauty aint on the inside until you are 50, divorced, and on Match.com just praying not to die alone. When you are 22, fat and drunk, you could be the funniest, smartest, coolest (I am all of these things) girl in da hood, and the homeboys don't give a shit.

MORAL OF THE STORY. You can't take all the time. Its like a friendship...if you never offer to be the designated driver, you're a shitty friend. Likewise, if you just drink booze and eat nachos and never take care of your body, you're a shitty human. OK, maybe that's a little extreme, but you certainly aren't doing yourself any favors. Especially in the long run. If you are binge drinking and overeating throughout your twenties, even if there isn't any visible damage now, who knows what problems will result from your lifestyle later down the road! Odds are, if you are spending all your time boozing out at the clubs you are pretty self absorbed, so what exactly are you going to do when you start to get the alchy-face and are too fugly to shake your ass in VIP anymore? Oh, the horror.

I'm not perfect. There are plenty of Saturdays where I am looking at an empty bottle of wine by 10pm and I am talking about the big bottle. BUT, if you rewound 24 hours back in Haley's Life Tape, you would see me refusing millions upon millions of offers to go out and drink so that I can go and get my swell on at the gym. Friday night and Saturday morning, you will find me at CrossFit508.And yes you read that correctly, I really do drag my gigantic, lanky ass out of bed on Saturdays at 6:15am to exercise. And that is called giving, my little blog followers. This way later on, if I do decide to take from the plethora of pleasures that this world has to offer me ( usually in the form of wine, pizza and gummis,) I can feel a little less like a fat, lazy, slob.

Give and take. You gotta give and then you can take. You should always give more than you take. Any way you word it, this phrase sucks.

Festivus Recap: Long and Delightful

2011-05-02T13:43:00.007-04:00

So, this past weekend I competed in “A Festivus for the Rest of Us” at CrossFit Relentless in ghettolicious Hartford, CT. Since I know that a lot of people who read this blog are still confused about what CrossFit really is, I thought “ What better way to describe what CrossFit is all about than to recap this whole event and embarrass all my CrossFit friends?” So here it is. “Festivus for the Rest of Us: According to Haley.”

I have to give Dawn Marie (owner of CrossFit508) credit for her approach in asking us to take part in this event. She told us about it months in advance, which was a genius way to get us all to sign up. Everybody is brave when something is months away. But,as the day of the competition drew closer and closer, the Facebook posts started flying about how fricken nervous we all were. Everyone started really honing in on training hard in that final week before the competition, and I THOUGHT everyone was going to have their eating in check. Boy did I overestimate everyone (including myself.) Maureen ate 5 Guys, Nicole had an ice cream, and I had 13 munchkins the day before. We may not be perfect, but we are fun.

Anyways, on a regular day at CrossFit508, I get yelled at for talking and not doing what I am supposed to at least 500 times. If you think that is bad, I am surprised that Pam is even allowed to come back. We just have a lot to say! But in that half hour before the competition started, it was like you were at a school for the deaf. We were all making crazy faces and pretending to focus on stretching, but really we were all petrified for what was ahead of us...a 2k row for time.

If you have never done a 2000 meter row for time before, I would not suggest doing this ever. As part of our Paleo Challenge back in March we all were required to row 2k, so we were FULLY aware of how bad our lives were about to suck. Maureen went first and set a 51 second PR which was awesome to see. I think she just wanted it over with because she had to stare at William on his crutches screaming at her the whole time. Nicole was next up with a major PR as well. I made the mistake of yelling in her ear that she was halfway done, which is something nobody wants to hear in a 2k row. You want to be ALL done. Then, after watching everyone sweat, pant, and grunt, it was time for Janet, Pam and myself to get on the rowers. We all lined up, cute as buttons, right next to each other and, just like Maureen and Nicole before us, we all hit new personal records. The pictures from this scene are terrifying. I have jelly rolls, we all have red faces, and its just a hot mess. But hey guess what? We rowed 2k as hard as we could and you didn't, so whatever a-hole.

After the row, I think everyone calmed down a little, and we all walked around on our numb legs for a few minutes before the next event. In the next workout,we had seven minutes to achieve a maximum weight deadlift, and I was planning on throwing up a Hail Mary for 250. I secretly thought that if I could pull that off, it would be the best female deadlift of the day. NOPE. Some chick pulled 300. And a bunch of other girls were working with what looked like WAY more than 250. These heats were small as weight plates were limited, so there were several instances where we didn't know anyone in the heat, but cheered them on like freaks anyways. We are just that nice. And I think we all have ADD and will take any opportunity to scream at someone.

Anyways, just like the first event, EVERYONE hit personal records on their deadlifts. I was so happy to get that 250 that I high-fived my judge about thirty times and now he hates me. I actually got 255 up, but I am an idiot and dropped it which is not allowed so it didn't count. Nobody from 508 was surprised that I did that. Bitches don't give me no respect.

At this point in the day, we were all feeling pretty good about our personal records, and I don't think anybody had their panties in a knot over this last event. It was just straight up CrossFit: 4 rounds for time of a 400 meter run, 20 kettle bell swings, and ten box jumps. No reason for panic there, we all had done those things a million times. We were so ready.

YEAH RIGHT. I watched Maureen go first and I could tell by her face that she was wishing for death. She kicked ass and got through the workout like a champion with her little ponytail flowing in the breeze, but I could see it in her eyes that this was going to be worse than I was anticipating. By chance, Nicole, Pam, Janet and I all ended up in the same heat which gave me a little bit of comfort. This was familiar to me. I work out with these idiots every day. We have the even bigger idiots on the sidelines cheering us on. What could go wrong?

Oh, A LOT. First of all, on that first run I knew things were going to suck when my legs felt cemented to the ground. Poor Sage standing down at the 400 meter mark must have gotten so many terrifying looks from the runners as he yelled out things like “ You can catch her!” and “Last round!” I am sure when it was over everyone appreciated the cute little kid yelling inspirational quotes at the top of his lungs, but at the time all I could do was look at him and gasp “Oh my god!” He's a Crossfitter, he understands.

Every single 508 athlete finished those 4 rounds without walking once. Not a sign of giving up on anyone's face. We all trotted along and never stopped, no matter how badly we just wanted to lay on the ground and be done with it. A lot of this is owed to our 508 cheering section, who screamed at me all 8 times I ran past them during that event. Put a little spring in my slow, pathetic step. I mean I really am surprised that my legs still worked at this point. Maureen, Pam, Nicole and Janet...you know what I am talking about! AND,my shoe came untied in a Brian Ray moment of shoe malfunction. God that last workout was a bitch.

OK, if you are still reading at this point you need to get a life right now. This is the longest post ever. I am really not trying to beat this day to death, and talk about how great it was over and over until everyone wants to murder me, but it really was a very special day. I think that we all went into this competition with some level of self doubt, but we all ended the day knowing that we are capable of more than we think. Again, thank you to everyone who came out to support us, and to all the coaches who put up with us when the gym seems more like a kindergarten classroom than a gym for adults. If you told me five years ago that I would be competing in a fitness competition I would have laughed and then yelled at you for interrupting my phone call to Dominoes. I owe so much to CrossFit and all the people that have come into my life because of this sport. And I think I am just going to end this here with one gigantic YEAH BUDDY!

Quick and painless.

First one to hit the final WOD. Look at that form!

Hey asshole, don't drop that.

Elegant.

I really like these boots.

Easter Fun

2011-04-22T16:19:00.002-04:00

Happy Easter!!! Easter is the worst. For some reason I used to get excited about it when I was a little freak child. We would leave out carrots and I would ask tons of questions about the Easter Bunny's mode of transportation. But now I don't really care about Easter, because last year I got Nick a giant basket filled with candy AND Paleo food, AND I woke up at 5am to display it perfectly on the kitchen table, and WHAT DID I GET IN RETURN? Nothing. A giant teeth smile. I hate that kid.

I shouldn't have even mentioned Easter because now I feel like I am keeping secrets if I don't tell everyone that my family is going to the 99 to celebrate the resurrection. This is not a joke. I mean, I am not complaining because my Dad will pay for it and they have 22oz Wachussett Blueberries on draft, but wtf is wrong with my family? I am going to show up wearing the Easter outfit I had on in a picture I recently found of myself ; a blue, long-sleeved dress, white tights, white shoes with buckles, a white straw hat suctioned to my giant head, and holding a balloon that says Happy Easter. The picture was taken last year.

Since it is the Friday before a holiday, this is pretty much the obligatory “don't go too crazy you huge, gigantic, disgusting, fatass” post. I am going to eat some Reese eggs and over a thousand Sour Patch Kids, but I am really going to try to keep my meals as Paleo and gluten free as possible. When I eat gluten I get pimples and that's not sexy. If I am ever going to find a boyfriend who will buy me an Easter basket I can't be rolling around town with a zit face. Gross.

If you don't celebrate Easter, you should just use this day as an excuse to eat candy and drink. I do that all the time when I see that other people are having fun at events I wasn't invited to. If I go on Facebook and see one person's status saying they are at a party, I am instantaneously out the door to buy a 30 pack and some onion dip for a one man bender. Fun is my middle name. Just kidding its Marie, Just kidding its Sex Warrior.

Happy Easter!

Flop Flop Flop

2011-04-15T16:17:00.002-04:00

Over the course of my life, I have noticed a lot of things, some relevant, some ridiculous. For instance, some people put their blinker on to get on the highway. This is ridiculous. WHY would anybody do that in a million years? The oncoming cars are never wondering whether you are going to merge or just go barreling off into the wilderness for fun. Something tells me Brian Ray is the world's worst offender of the unnecessary merging blinker. Let's just all make a pact now that unless we are putting on our right blinker and committing suicide, NO BLINKERS TO MERGE! OK THANKS!

Anyways, while my blinker rage may be a good example of a meaningless observation, I do happen to notice some other things that are a little more important. For example, I have noticed that there are two types of “exercisers” in the world, and that every single person falls into one of the types. I know that when HGW was just a wiiiiittle bitty baby, I put up a post about the types of people that you see in a regular gym. This is different, yo. This post is less about people's workout antics, and more about their motives. Its way more deep and soulful because I am getting older and using spirituality to cope with the realization of my own mortality. And I also needed something to write about.

So lets start with Type 1. I will refer to this group as the “Floppers.” If you are a Flopper, you come into the gym, usually 3 to 4 times a week and flop around. You get on the elliptical and flop your way through an episode of Two and a Half Men. Then you might flop your arms around with some 5lb dumbbells and call it a day. For guys, you usually flop around on the treadmill at the slowest pace ever, and then go and do 3 bench presses with twenty minute breaks in between. How do you spend the breaks? By draping your bodies over the machines, staring at girls in full makeup, and drinking weird protein shakes...AKA flopping around. Floppers exercise because they think its the thing to do. Their workouts never change and improvements are rare. I know this because I used to be the greatest Flopper of them all. Except I did my elliptical time during Jeopardy and skipped the free weights in favor of the free tanning. Tannest, fattest, factoid machine. But hey, I was going to the gym wasn't I?

I don't have a name for the second group of exercisers. I thought I was creative, but apparently my self esteem is too high. I tried to think of the most determined and courageous person in the world, but all I come up with was Dumbledore and that's gay. But don't fret my pets, because what this group lacks in name, it makes up for in street cred. These are the people who exercise for IMPROVEMENT. The people who make physical fitness a measure of success. People like ME. I measure my success in 3 ways; good relationships, good career, good fitness. If one area is lacking, I go shithouse, pound a bottle of wine, cry, and fake being sick so people pay attention to me. Sorry fellas....I'm taken.

MY POINT IS...don't be a flopper. If you are going to take the time to exercise, its pointless to hate it the whole time. Flailing around on the elliptical to maintain your flabby body is stupid as hell. Make exercise a priority. Make it an area of your life where you set and achieve goals. I guarantee you will not only start to like working out, but you will also start to look better which is a good thing because I know who reads this blog and most of you are not going to be winning any hot body contests anytime soon. BOOM.

Death and Finding Inspiration: A Blogger's Strife

2011-03-22T09:56:00.002-04:00

I think I am dead. I have been sick for a week and it isn't getting better. It's from the community M&M's at work. I have the world's worst case of germophobia, but I can't keep my fat hands out of that effing M&M dish. Those little f*ckers are PEANUT BUTTER. Everyone who knows me is well aware that I am more of a gummi girl, so I had never had peanut butter M&M's until like 2 weeks ago and I am pissed about it. They are wonderful. Once I ate one, it just turned into a non-stop M&M party which led to me contracting the Ebola virus and losing the ability to tell if I am alive or not. Moral of the story: stick with the gummis.

So feeling like absolute dick has really put a damper on this blog in the sense that I haven't posted in over a week. I was also having trouble finding inspiration, and if you are a brilliant mind like me, you know that genius needs to be inspired. But, alas, inspiration came to me, as it most often does, in the form of an annoyance. Listening to people talk about diets and health. Makes me insane.

I know that I can't expect everyone to be Paleo, but it really is hard for me to keep my mouth shut sometimes. I talk a lot and I like to know things, so when I hear people talking about reduced fat Wheat Thins and shit, it takes everything in me to keep quiet. Its 2011...why are you eating Wheat Thins?

I get it, knowing what to eat is confusing. Do you eat low carb? Do you do Weight Watchers? Do you count calories? There are a lot of questions out there for a person looking to get (and stay) healthy. But I have to think that in 2011, you have to know that processed crackers are bad news. Don't get me wrong, you can go from a diet of all fast food, to a diet of lean turkey sandwiches and low-fat CheezIts and you will probably lose some POUNDS. But I am telling you right now, if you lose your weight on a high carb, low calorie diet, you will have chicken legs and arms with the world's jiggliest belly. Super fun time!

I love it when I think someone is thin, and then I see pictures of them on Facebook in a bikini and I am like “ Holy mother of Christ nice rolls, Jigglepuff.” Its called skinny-fat and in my opinion it is worse than fat-fat. When I was a fatty there were no false pretenses. I had a nice tan, nice hair, giant boobs, but I was a little fat and everyone knew it. Honesty, people. Its all about the honesty. Show the world your giant bod. On the flipside, there are chicks out there who look like pipe cleaners, but you get their clothes off and its like they are made of white Nickelodeon Gack. Talk about awkward. Whats the point of being skinny then? Who are you the friggin devil? If I was a dude and I thought I was scoring a chick with a hot bod only to find out her skin looked like it was full of cottage cheese while simultaneously melting off her body I would flip the f*ck out. That's false advertising in the worst kind of way. WORSE than a giant push up bra if you ask me. I can work with little boobs, but surprise belly rolls are just grounds for ending whatever was going on in the first place. (Note: This is coming from the perspective of me pretending to be a young single male. Since I do not fit that profile, I cannot speak for everyone, or anyone actually, in this age demographic. Some people are chubby chasers and if you are one, please contact me because I have so, so so, many questions.)

This is where my mind goes when people start talking about foods they think are healthy. Even Dr. Oz, who I think is literally an alien, agrees that ALL NATURAL foods are the way to go. Even if people were confused about whether or not beans are healthy (they aren't) and eating too much fruit, it would not upset me because those foods are at least natural! If you are standing there announcing to anyone who will listen that you are going to be so skinny because you eat mini bags of cinnamon rice cakes, you are just stupid. You are going to have a weird, bloated, disproportionate body, and I am going to laugh so hard at all your bikini pictures when you post them on Facebook. So hard.

The point of this post was not to be malicious. I have been a fatty before, and I got nothin but love for all you large orders out there just trying to make it in the world. As long as you are happy, I am happy. But, if you are currently at an unhealthy weight, and considering some strange, low calorie, crash diet to get thin, you should really consider prioritizing your HEALTH over your WEIGHT. I guarantee you, that if you focus on feeding your body an all natural, nutritious, and as gluten free as possible diet, the weight loss will happen. Or, you could go the other way, and stuff your face full of 100 calorie packs of Chips Ahoy and that weird Pirate's Booty shit, and turn into the flabbiest freak on the planet. Whatever way you decide to go, please still plan on posting the semi-nudes on Facebook. K, thanks bye.

Holy Cow

2011-03-03T09:01:00.003-05:00

I would never describe myself as an animal lover. I love some dogs. I love some cats. I pretty much hate every other kind of animal. Baby pigs are cute, I guess. And monkeys are okay if they don't bite and don't have that gigantic visible asshole. But if we are in the trust tree here, I am going to just come out and tell you that if I run over a squirrel I don't cry. Although I did cry when I ran over a turtle because it wasn't his fault he was born a slow mover (like Nick.) And I also cried that time a cat ran into my back wheel and catapulted into a bus stop full of people doing high speed cartwheels (the cat was doing the cartwheels, not the people.) Whatever. The point is, while you will never catch me working for the ASPCA, my new “thing” is to really care about where the cows I eat come from, what they are being fed, and how they are being treated. I love having new “things.” This one is almost as cool as when my “thing” was wearing Harley Davidson clothes in 11th grade. Except I don't think caring about cows will make nearly as many people think I am a douchebag. By the way I don't know if cartwheel cat lived or died.

Recently I have started eating a lot of grass fed beef that I purchase at a farmer's market in North Attleboro. The main reason I like this beef better is because not only is it hormone free, but it is also totally full of an acid called CLA that helps to reduce abdominal fat. HIGH FIVE! Admittedly, I notice very little, if any, difference in the taste between this beef and the beef I could buy at Stop and Shop, but it makes me feel a little better knowing that the meat I am eating is increasing my level of sexiness. I only have a few more good years before I have to get an old lady haircut, so I will take all the sexiness assistance I can get for the time being.

Another reason I like this beef is because it is not produced at a giant, disgusting slaughterhouse. If you have seen the movie Food Inc, you will know that the big slaughterhouses process thousands of cows an hour and employ tons of illegal immigrants who work in abysmal conditions. Think about it. Countless cow carcasses flying around on hooks being inspected by people who probably don't give a shit about their job because it SUCKS? Who the hell knows what is getting into that beef! Probably finger nails and cow balls and cow hair and AIDS. Gross. My cows go to a small slaughterhouse in Vermont and fly around dead in much smaller groups. Less flailing carcasses, less room for error, less AIDS.

Finally, I like to eat grass fed beef whenever I can because it is SAFE. A lot of people don't know this, but E-Coli does not exist in grass fed cows. I can eat this meat, cooked whatever way I want, knowing that I am not going to die painfully from E-Coli after several days of hallucinating and puking up blood clots. The United States government is at the point where it profits so much from corn production, that rather than just STOP feeding cows corn all together to prevent E-Coli, they are just pumped full of unnatural antibiotics to kill the bacteria. Feeding cows corn is cheap, so why stop just because its harmful to them? This would be like if you ate laundry detergent all the time because its cheap, but then took drugs so you wouldn't die. That's dumb, and everyone would hate you. Luckily, now you know this, and you can start to look into purchasing locally raised grassfed beef instead. Party!

To wrap this up, I just want to pull on your heart strings a little and tell you that the cows living in giant warehouses, being fed corn, and waiting to die are not happy cows. They never get to go outside, and they never get any love (sexually from other cows or platonic love from humans.) The cows I eat get to go out in the fields and eat and take huge craps and have tons of sex all day. I like to imagine that the farmer hugs them and kisses them and names them things like Cuddles, Sprinkles, and T-Pain. Keep in mind, the same rules apply for pigs and chickens, and it is always better to eat grassfed pork and pastured chickens whenever you can. This post is dedicated to the possibly dead, but also maybe still alive, Cartwheel Cat.

Happy Flingin Flangin Friday!

2011-02-18T15:52:00.004-05:00

For some reason this week was the longest week of my life. And now there is an hour left, thank christ. HOW BOUT THIS WEATHER, HUH??? I ALMOST feel like its a nice, warm, spring day where I leave work and go directly home to eat steak and drink beer outside. I would punch a blind orphan square in the dick if that could be what I was really doing tonight. Instead I am going to the gym and making a grocery list. Then I will most likely fall asleep before 10pm. ***gLaMoUr GiRl***

This weekend I plan on cooking and not spending one dollar on anything other than food. I don't really feel 100% today, so this will be a good chance for me to just strap on my homeless guy suit and just really be myself. What that means is that I will be wearing pants with Spongebob on them and swearing a lot. Feel free to drop by!

I am particularly excited about one recipe I am going to make tomorrow, which is pineapple chunks wrapped in bacon. I don't even think I have ever held a whole pineapple in my hands before, so this will be like an episode of the Helen Keller cooking show and I can't wait! If the recipe is a success, I will post it so you can all try it out. Maybe if you're lucky I will even take a (NSFW) picture of me and my Paleo creation!

Have a good weekend everyone! All the Paleo challengers, stay strong, we are past the halfway mark! To all you normal people, drink a box of Franzia to your face in my honor! See ya next week!

Someone Buy Me Some Nose Drops...

2011-02-17T17:01:00.002-05:00

Oh my god, I can't breathe. Seriously I have snorted so much nasal spray in the past two days its to the point where I am going to have to spend five bucks on another bottle. This pisses me off to no end. For any of you who don't know, I am severely addicted to nasal spray and its never going to end so keep your comments to yourself, asshole. When you are a freak like me who is allergic to literally EVERYTHING, those drops become your most prized possession. If I am out in public and realize I don't have them I FREAK OUT. Its scary and strange, and this is asinine, so lets get back to what the real point of this post...I cant breathe.

Why cant I breathe? Some of you might say that it might have something to do with those two asshat cats I have running around my house. WRONG. For your information, after a few weeks of dripping snot all over the house with my big, swollen Bride of Chuckie face, I actually adjusted to the cats and returned to my sexy, relatively snot free self. So again, keep your comments to yourself, asshole.

The reason why I can't breathe is because I am a big, fat girl on the inside who made up a million excuses to eat chocolate on Valentine's Day even though I am in a Paleo challenge. You may be saying to yourself “ Why the hell would this make you unable to breathe?” Well, I will tell you why. Its because sugar causes inflammation, which makes my allergies so bad that I cant even leave the house. I am going to try to explain the science behind this (OMG.) But I must warn you, even though I drew a weird picture of myself with no neck surrounded by beakers of bubbling liquid in my “When I Grow Up” first-grade drawing, I am not a scientist. Just the best blogger on the webz.

OK. Sugar is not recognized by doctors as an allergen because essentially, most of the food we eat is broken down into glucose by the body because that's what the brain uses for fuel. However, when we eat large amounts of sugar or high fructose corn syrup, it puts a MAJOR strain on our digestive system because, as humans, we are not meant to eat sugar. The human body has the ability to convert ANYTHING it takes in (including delicious protein) to glucose for brain fuel, so when I say LARGE AMOUNTS of sugar, it pretty much means ANY sugar as we do not need to consume it AT ALL. The sugar interferes with the absorption of vitamins, triggers inflammation of the digestive system, lowers our immune system, and can even f*ck with your metabolism (fat, fat, fat, big body, fat.) Thus, in plain English, when my body is working correctly: NO ALLERGIES. When I eat sugar like a total d-bag: ALLERGIES.

What this means to me, is that not only do I have other allergies that are made worse by sugar consumption, but who is to say I don't have some sort of intolerance to sugar itself? Sugar has been linked to a whole slew of problems in people including fatigue, joint pain, muscle cramping, and just being a total fatass. My friend Whitney says eating sugar makes her crazy, and it just so happens, people have reported that after eating sugar they noticed that they have more severe PMS. WHIT WAS THAT THE SHOUT OUT YOU WERE HOPING FOR?

If you take nothing from this post other than that I have weird allergies and Whit is batshit crazy, at least promise me you will give some thought to the dangers of sugar. We already know it makes us fat, but now there is a pretty good chance that it is also filling us up with boogers. Nothing worse than a big fatty blowing their nose all over the place and disrupting your peace and quiet when you are trying to blog your ass off in silence. Lay off the pixie sticks, and maybe you could stop sounding like a sex goose with all your mucus over there. Sex goose.

Cookies!!!!!!

2011-02-10T14:01:00.005-05:00

At first I was kicking myself in the ass for not taking a picture of these cookies, but then I remembered that they literally look like absolute yeti shit. No joke. But they taste amazing and they are 98% Paleo, so I am going to post the recipe.

I am not lying when I say that everyone who has tried these little shit nuggets loves them. I am also not lying when I say that I ate 40 of them over a 2 day span one time. For those of you who are keeping track, thats an average of 20 cookies a day which beats my last record of 18 sugar cookies in one sitting. Does anyone else think I was supposed to be born a boy? Seriously...deep voice, no desire whatsoever to say things like "lmao" or "hun," and the appetite of the entire Hogan family? Well, add THAT to the list of things for me to stress out about. Right between "the apocolypse in December 2012" and "what color to get for my manicure"....yep, we will squeeze in "being a boy" right there.

GROSS LOOKING COOKIES

Ingredients

- 2 cups flax seed
- 2 cups diced walnuts (in the baking aisle)
- one bag organic dried apple rings
- 1 cup of honey
- cinnamon
- 2 eggs
- vanilla

Directions

1. Get a giant bowl and dump in the flax seed and the walnuts.

2. Microwave the cup of honey for thirty seconds. Add that to the bowl.

3. Add the two eggs to the bowl.

4. Add a little vanilla. About one tablespoon.

5. Chop up the apple rings into little bits, and add them to the bowl. As many as you want.

6. Stir the shit out of it and add so much cinnamon. Seriously, so much. I always overdo everything, and even I think I add a lot of cinnamon. Like a good 20 shakes or more.

7. Scoop little spoonfuls onto a buttered cookie sheet. You will need two cookie sheets, this recipe makes a lot of these little f*ckers. Also, they won't expand, so jam pack that tray.

8. Put in the oven on 350 for about 11 minutes.

9. MOST IMPORTANT STEP. The cookies will look absolutely terrible, and they will be so soft. Let them cool on the counter for 25 minutes and then I would recommend moving them to the fridge. They WILL harden.

10. Eat 20 today, and 20 tomorrow.

These cookies are better than regular cookies because they are gluten free and all natural. They also have a VERY low amount of honey per cookie as the one cup is spread out over the whole batch. As they get colder, they will stop looking like crap. But once you taste them you won't care how they look because these things are mad good.

Check it Out!

2011-02-08T11:30:00.002-05:00

BIG NEWS!

Now if you read something you like on here you can share it on Facebook! These days even geriatrics are addicted to Facebook, so I am really hoping that this will increase the number of people reading my blog to AT LEAST 25.

So here it is! Haley in 2011...getting all technological on your asses and linking my blog to Facebook! Put this day in the books under MAJOR SUCCESS.

Also, you can "Like" Health Gone Wild as well with just one quick click. I will not be installing the "Mark as Offensive" button.