Category Archives: I’m an ass

Lucky Girl

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This will be easy!

This weekend, we planned a 6-mile loop around Little Granite Mountain in Prescott, AZ. Due to poor instructions, we back-tracked and had to restart, which added 1/2 mile to our day’s total. No big deal.

As we abandoned the first leg of the trail to hook into the 2nd part of our loop, we discovered that this loop seriously sucked. The trail was overgrown with massive thickets of chest-high thorny bushes. As the branches snagged our clothing and scratched our bare legs, we ran into two women on horseback.

“This trail gets really rough,” said one of the middle-aged horse ladies, “hikers don’t usually come around here.”

So we turned back…adding 1 more wasted mile.

Once we returned to the original trail, we decided to continue to Vista Point, located on top of Granite Mountain.

“The map says it’s 4.1 miles total,” I said. I knew I could handle that.

After the first mile of climbing, however, I turned into a little monster. At this point, I had already hiked 5 miles and we weren’t at the top. Not even close.

I was pissed.

“Okay, you’ve got to start talking about something to keep my  mind off my misery,” I told Lou.

“What do you want to talk about?” Lou innocently asked.

“I don’t KNOW!” I snapped.

The conversation ended. But I kept complaining as I realized that the map indicated one-way mileage, not the trail’s total. With our wasted backtracking and the improvised commitment to complete this Granite Mountain Vista Point trail, I estimated we’d be close to 10 miles by the end of the day.

“GodDAMMIT!” I blurted, out of the blue.

“Just take a minute and look where we are,” Lou said as he gestured toward the incredible scenery before us.

“I GET IT!”

Whatever.

Poor Lou. I repeatedly apologized later, of course.

“I think you handled it really well,” he said. “We just have to accept that, during this process, we’ll each have a moment where we’ve just had it. You pushed through and finished. I’m proud of you.”

This actually happened. Lou is actually this good to me.

I can’t believe my luck.

Funny Body

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By Abode of Chaos, flickr, Creative Commons

Look! There’s a body!

Here’s a list of goofy facts about my body (nothing gross or sexual so don’t get too excited).

I’ve never had a bloody nose. Not once.

I’ve never been stung by a bee or wasp.

When I get the hiccups, I make the same hiccuping sound as a cartoon character.

I have a very loud, un-ladylike sneeze.

I have a mole on the bottom of my foot.

I can’t touch my tongue to my nose.

I can, however, roll my tongue.

I am not double-jointed or flexible in any way.

My joints consistently crack even with the slightest movements (e.g. my shoulder cracks when I switch lanes while driving).

I’ve only had two partial cavities in my whole life.

My eye color is grey but looks blue or green, depending on what I’m wearing.

I’ve never broken a bone.

I never blow dry my hair. Its crazy-straightness is completely natural.

I have a red birth mark on the back of my neck…my “stork bite”.

I can suck my stomach in to such a dramatic degree that I look like an extra in Schindler’s List. It’s disgusting.

My Friday Morning, A True Story

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By chatfly, flickr. Creative Commons

We only see what we choose to.

I had to run a few errands early this morning. For the entire trip, I listened to NPR on my iPhone. This way, as I hopped in and out of my car to complete necessary tasks, I could continue to listen to the day’s news.

After finishing, I returned home. I was listening to a story about the Women’s Olympic soccer event as I pulled into the driveway, unlocked the door, and rushed into the my office. I was running late. I was also thinking that I would talk to Lou when he got home from work. Our yard is overgrown and looks like hell. I’m embarrassed.

Still listening to the news on my iPhone speakers, I powered up my laptop. Then a man walked into the room.

I thought I was alone in the house.

I screamed.

Then I noticed this person was wearing my husband’s shirt. Then I noticed this person was my husband.

Lou grabbed me, pulled me close, apologized, laughed, and kissed me.

“Didn’t you see me?” he asked.

I hadn’t.

Then he explained that not only was his car still in the driveway, but he had been sitting on the couch when I walked in the house. As I cruised by, he waved and said hello.

“I thought you were mad at me so I followed you in here.”

I didn’t notice any of it. Not his car, not the wave, and not his hello. I had assumed that by the time I got back, he’d be gone. So my eyes and ears ignored all evidence of his presence.

Dude.

Backpacks, a History

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This is surly teen Lilia, trying to act like she doesn’t give a f*ck about how her backpack is styled.

When I was in early elementary school (late 1980s), it was cool to have a backpack. Because then you were all grown up like the big kids.

In late elementary school (early 1990s), it was fashionable to wear your backpack using only one shoulder strap. Only serious nerds used both.

In middle school (mid1990s), wearing both straps was back in. But only if you wore your backpack very low. And, sometimes, the straps would slip through the little plastic thingies and suddenly your backpack would drop right off. Very embarrassing.

In high school (late 1990s), I can’t remember because I was too busy getting high.

In college (early 2000s), everything switched to the messenger bag. This was the worst. The large strap between my boobs was degrading.

Today, I wear a CamelBak. I use both shoulder straps and regularly clip the cross-strap over my chest for extra support. There’s nothing fashionable about this.

This concludes the history of backpacks.

Three Beers

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Please, no…no more!

Today is my day off from hiking.

So, last night, after a super-awesome 4-mile hike with a new pal, I allowed myself a beer. Then I drank two more.

And, guess what? I’m hungover! What the hell?

There was a time, friends, when three beers would have just been a warm-up. Of course, that was when I was in my mid-20s, single, and constantly trolling the local bars.

Today, I’m 31, married, and usually asleep on the couch by 11 p.m.

This hangover is ruining my morning. And I think it just ruined my opportunity to end the week with a decent blog post.

Oof.

Dear Lilia

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Today is my 31st birthday and, naturally, it’s a good time to reflect. This morning, I imagined what adolescent Lilia would think of adult Lilia.

Here’s a fictional letter from my 16-year-old self to my 31-year-old self. And, for the record, 16-year-old Lilia wasn’t actually this mean to other people…only to herself.

Vintage Adam Ant shirt, mailman pants, spike bracelets, and a JEM lunchbox that I carried as a purse. This was my favorite outfit at 16.

Lilia,

Wow. You didn’t turn out the way I thought you would at all.

First, let’s talk about your style. Blonde? Really? What happened to your jet black hair? And where’s the eyeliner? No tattoos? No piercings? What happened?!?

Also, I can’t believe you own and wear khaki pants. Don’t you remember how you wrote an essay about the evils of khaki? Stop shopping for clothes at the mall (sweet Jesus, not the mall!) and consider returning to the thrift store for your outfits. It’s cheaper and more authentic.

I see you’ve turned into one of those women who won’t show her feet unless they are pedicured. That’s pretty superficial, don’t you think?

Next comes the love life. You married a red head. That was random. Also, waiting until 29 to get married? Dude, that is old.

And as for your career, actually, I think it’s pretty cool that you’re a writer. Since that’s been a secret dream of mine (not that I would ever admit to it) I’m really happy to see that this worked out. I’m also glad you’ve figured out the whole exercising regularly thing…that was always a tough one. Also, I see you have become a punctual person. Nice improvement there.

In spite of these accomplishments, I have to wonder…what are you still doing in Phoenix? Why didn’t you ever move away to a big city like you planned? And you still don’t speak Spanish? It’s probably too late now, you know. Because your brain can’t absorb new languages at age 31.

All in all, however, you seem happy and I know that’s the most important thing.

Love,

Lilia

P.S.

Your cats are really cute.

Reaching Goals with Nyan Cat

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This is a traditional goal thermometer. Perfect for a sales department.

I’m working on a big project. Naturally, I have many smalls goals related to a much larger goal.

So I thought I’d make myself a goal thermometer to keep me focused and inspired. Because that’s what sales departments do and it works, right?

After scouring the internet for some kind of automatic thermometer-maker, I gave up and made my own.

You can do this, too. Think about a simple shape that you like (a circle, a bunny…anything). Can the outline of the shape be filled, little by little, with horizontal stripes made by a magic marker?

Great!

Find an outline of your shape online, print it, and make your tick marks for each one of your smaller goals (an Excel spreadsheet is very helpful here). Then fill in the shape with the marker as you work.

Or, in place of a simple shape, think of something with stripes or a repeated pattern that you can use.

Like this:

Just like Nyan Cat, the work goes on and on.

Only 76 more to go!

(Source: Nyan Cat)

Drunk Writing

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This gives me inspiration and permission.

“Write drunk, edit sober.”

Some say this is a quote by Ernest Hemingway (the internet says this may not be true).

Wherever the quote comes from, I give it credit as being a pretty useful strategy. As I mentioned in my  tips for writers blog post, getting out those first words can be the most difficult part.

Since booze lowers one’s inhibitions, it makes this first step much easier.

I drank a beer the other night as I prepared dinner.

Lost in a fuzzy-brained buzz, I suddenly experienced an onslaught of blog ideas. So I set the meal to simmer and jammed out some rough drafts.

When I opened up my WordPress to write today, I was excited to see that I had some copy to edit — enough for four whole posts!

I just read through each draft and they all sucked. Not only was the writing all over the place, but the concepts weren’t even that great.

Still, I’m willing to give it another try.

Ew, Gross.

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By Victor1558, flickr, Creative Commons.

Her post-its are blank. What a phony.

 Ew, gross.

I just looked at the clock and said, “What?!? It’s five o’fucking clock?!?!?”

No one heard me. It’s just me in my little home office with the cat sleeping under the couch.

Here’s one of those moments in which I become extremely frustrated that I still have 3-4 hours of work to do. I wanted to jog tonight and then drink a beer. Oh, and, somehow, cook dinner.

Annoyed!

And then I realize the following:

1. I should be thankful. These work hours are billable.

2. I should be grateful. I’ve been in comfy clothes and no make-up all day.

3. I should shut the hell up, get this blog done, and return to work.

Which is exactly what I’m going to do now.

Blog is done.

Unhealthy Things I Do

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Dive thru? Don’t mind if I do!

1. I Postpone Urination

If I’m busy and I don’t want to be interrupted by my body’s need to expel waste, I’ll negotiate with my bladder. For instance, I have to finish this blog before I go.

2. I Eat Benadryl

Sometimes I chomp half a Benadryl to fall asleep. It happens so frequently that Lou and I call them “Bennies”.

3. I Don’t Take Vitamins

Lou insists that vegetarians should always take vitamins. I insist that my daily Luna bar is good enough. I’m pretty sure I’m wrong.

4. I Don’t Stretch

I hike. Lately, I’ve been jogging. But, I never, ever stretch. Even though it feels good to stretch, I get bored. All that counting!

5. I Do the Midnight Berto’s Run

Yeah, I admit it. After drinks and a night out, there’s nothing better than paying the cabbie an extra $5 in fare for a $2 quesadilla. Hey, I’m a Phoenician, through and through.