Monday, June 28, 2010

Don't Poo on My Hand, Boy.

My ovaries are currently raging with baby hunger.  As I've been married for a grand total of 3 months and am still enjoying alone time with the S Town (and still may or may not have a fear of dying babies) - I usually have to watch videos like the following to alleviate my hankerings.

However on days like today - I like to coerce my ovaries into doing a complete acrobatics show, to the point where I'm full on ready to flush all forms of birth control down the toilet and jump Shawn.

That fleeting TMI image aside, I've concocted a formula of what the future Shawn and Chelsea's of the world should be like when they're still cute and little.  I've done it through the power of YouTube.  (Boredom is a serious, serious condition.) 

First of all, they'll get my totally awesome singing skills and gift of performing lyrics flawlessly:

They'll get Shawn's ninja skills:

They'll get my political knowledge (*Snort*):

They'll get a little bit of my dance moves:

Combined with Shawn's:

They'll get Shawn's disdain for flatulence:

And my ever-present amusement thereof:

They'll get my mouth:

(Yeah, I'm totally just kidding.  Though, does it make me a bad person to SORT OF hope I catch my kid accidentally swearing on video?  Probably.  Oops)

They'll get Shawn's total nerdiness:

Any they'll get my sense of humor:


People are going to be completely enamored by how adorable our children will be.  I mean, with that sneak peak.  How could you not?

Disclaimer: This is by no means an "announcement" - As charmed as I am by the idea of having miniature Shawn and Chelsea's wreaking havoc on the world, we're not quite ready for that.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Random Slice of Life

A few hundred things...

-I am such a baby when it comes to pain.  I have zero tolerance.  If I stub my toe I curse and yelp about the pain for a good solid 10 minutes.  I'm such a boob.


-Because of aforementioned tolerance levels, I currently want to slice off my arms with a butter knife.  Because yes, that would be an improvement.

-I can say with full and complete confidence that I will never like P90XEver.  I'm in pain induced tears after every work out.  Some days I'd rather swallow a sword.

-Yesterday I managed to throw away our awesome Pampered Chef can opener at work.  (I really wanted Spaghettios for lunch.)  The thought of having to drop $20 to purchase another one motivated me to drag my husband clear back to work and fish through the garbage to get it.  Totally worth it.

-Shawn did amazing in the Ragnar (188 mile relay race) - I'm super proud of him and his bad self.  I didn't want to spend another night by myself, so I more or less followed his van all night and morning - averaging about 2 or 3 hours of sleep that night.

-The lack of sleep and all the driving wiped me out.  I sat my fat {bad word} in a car most the time, and I was complaining that I was tired.  Bless my husband's heart for gracing me with his concern, when he was probably even more tired than I was.  We fell asleep watching Transformers at about 4pm.  We got into bed at around 5 expecting to just take a 3 hour nap or so.  Well, 16 hours later....  Told you we were tired.

-Speaking of passing out for 16 hours - I've been really tired lately.  It's rather odd.  I feel like an 87 year old woman, and that's not cool.

-On Father's Day I made two salads.  Look at me, all Betty Crocker and ish.  I'm a little bit regretful that I didn't take "Step by Step" pictures.  You know, like all those super bloggers do?  That way everyone could know that I know how to make stuff (So what if it was Dorito salad and Snicker salad - they're totally legit)... and that my husband doesn't in fact starve to death.  I feel a "Step by Step" Chelsea recipe post coming on.  Stay tuned.

-Yesterday an old dude came into the office and the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Well, you sure look pretty today!"  I was instantly suspicious - because how the stink does he know what I look like on other days?  And who the {bad word} throws out compliments like that without having established some sort of rapport?  I could have maybe taken the compliment a little bit better if his annoying factor wasn't comparable to Hannah Montana's.  I promise I'm not a selfish brat, I do appreciate compliments.  Just not ones from mental wacko senior citizens.  Just saying.

-You will soon be seeing a virtual tour of my pretty apartment.  Are you excited?  For the record, you aren't allowed to judge my wrinkly shower curtain or my laundry-gone-wrong bed spread.

-The Relief Society Presidency came over.  Luckily they are a little more organized than the Elder's Quorum, and forewarned us of their arrival - so we could make sure and fit "Put clothes on" into our schedules.  No awkward nut shots this time.

-I'm currently attempting to read the New Testament.  I figured I should probably have that in my repertoire or readings before I die.  Can you imagine?  "Oh hey, God.  No, I didn't get around to reading the entire Bible.  But hey, I did read all the Nicholas Spark books and Twilight - that counts for something, right?"  How embarrassing.

-Speaking of reading Twilight.  I guess that's sort of a lie.  I haven't read the last one.  So what did I do?  Naturally I just Googled the ending.  Because I wasn't going to read it before the movies anyways.  Go ahead and throw tomatoes at me for being a cheating loser.  Frankly, I don't give a flying fart.

-Another Twilight note: Please download the Twilight commentary from this website.  If you have a sense of humor whatsoever, you will be extremely glad you did.

-Speaking of losers - anyone still watching The Bachlorette?  Whoa buddy.  Kasey was absolutely hysterical - it was even funnier when he got left on a glacier.  Justin is a fag who clearly only has feelings for himself and winning.  Chris N?  Wait, he was still on the show?  What an awkward dude.  No wonder he only uttered a grand total of maybe 3 words before this last episode.  And was it just me, or did anyone else noticed how completely wasted Ali was at the lagoon place in Iceland.  Holy mackerel.

-Also in Bachelor land, Jake and Vienna broke up.  Who didn't see that one coming?  Tools.

Now the my post has been reduced to gossiping about The Bachelor/Bachlorette and lame pictures, I'm going to go ahead and end before it sinks any lower.

Cheers, internet.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Lagoon, Purses, and Assholes

(Warning: This post may contain a larger amount of curse words than usual.  Oops.)

So, my husband is in Logan getting ready to run a really big race - and I'm at home all alone.  It's kind of depressing for a few reasons.  1 - because this is the first night we've spent apart since we've been married.  2 - I miss him.  3 - I just caught someone trying to steal my purse and feel beyond violated and gross.

Story time?

I dropped off my husband at my aunt's house because they were going to drive up to Logan so they could be up and at em' at 4:00, bright and early for the race.  (More wife points for me for not being able to get work off to go and cheer him on.  Thanks, adulthood.)  Anyways, I was supposed to meet some friends at Lagoon (because remember how we're cool and have season passes?)  I almost decided not to go, but ended up turning around and going.  We stayed for about an hour and a half and decided we were done.  One of my friends was incessant that we go through the cheesy haunted house for 5 year-olds, but really, I only like going on that so I can make out with my lover.  Sneeky.  Anyways, we managed to talk him out of it and part ways to walk to our cars.  As I'm walking to mine I see a flash of what looked like my purse, and because I'm apparently always thinking of the worst thing that could possibly happen - I automatically freak out thinking someone has broken into my car and is stealing my purse.  As I speed up a little quicker to see what it was, I see 3 punk ass teenagers speed walking away from my purse and my wallet - which have both just been tossed on the ground.  I yell at the kids to come back, and they try to ignore me at first, so naturally - I yell louder.  They turn around and act all disconcerted and surprised that I was even talking to them.  I'm totally panicking because I have no idea if they're going to beat me senseless, or what - I've never had an encounter like this before.  Conversation went as follows:

Me: Um, were you going through my purse?

Assface teenagers: Uuuuh, no it was just sitting there and we were just seeing what it was!

(It's clearly a purse you dumb schmuck.)

Me: Did you take anything?  Because so help me, I will call the cops on you if something is gone.

Assface teenagers: Uuuuuh, we didn't take anything.  No.  We didn't take anything.  Go ahead and check it.  We didn't take anything.

I proceed to go through my wallet and purse, noticing that everything is still there. 

Me: (About ready to start bawling) I've had my purse stolen before, and it isn't fun.  So if you've taken something - please give it back.

They insisted that they didn't have anything, and everything seemed to be in my purse, so I figured it was safe to let them go, and as they were about to leave I whipped out one of my lady pads and said, "You guys sure you don't want a pad, there's plenty to go around!"  They looked absolutely disgusted.  And it was kind of vindicating.  Assholes.

I'm usually the Queen Anal Retentive when it comes to people locking my doors (Because my car is awesome and doesn't have power locks.) And usually good about putting my purse on the ground or in the backseat. But I apparently managed to forget to lock Shawn's door after I had dropped him off and left my purse sitting on the seat.  (Apparently I was too excited to get into the park.  That, or way too into the Lunchable that I was eating in the parking lot.)  There is no way on God's green earth that those douche bags "found the purse sitting there."  If that had been the case, all my credit cards would have been gone, along with my iPod Touch.  I know it was them who took it out of my car, and if I hadn't walked up when I did - my stuff would have vanished.  No one just gets the nerve to up and takes a purse out of someone's car and then not take anything out of it.  I figure if some sort of conscience had kicked in, they would have at least put my purse back in the damn car.

Timing is a weird thing, isn't it?  I'm totally and completely grateful that nothing was stolen out of my purse.  (That I'm aware of.)  It really has happened before, and it blows.  But now I feel totally violated and icky.  I don't even know how to explain it.  I like to give every person the benefit of the doubt, and just assume people are good.  I hate getting proved wrong.  I finally talked to Shawn on the phone and gushed about the entire thing - needless to say he was livid.  It made me feel better for being totally freaked out.  He told me to remember what they looked like, so he could beat the living shit out of them.  My husband doesn't swear people, that's how upset he is.  He was a little dissapointed that I didn't call the cops or make a bigger scene, but I was so freaked out that I just wanted my stuff, and wanted them to be gone.  I could have been a heck of a lot meaner, but I (regrettably) was easy on them.  Had my friends been with me, I imagine one of them in particular probably would've gone ape shiz on the kids.

Anyway, this is all just a blur of words that probably is only half coherent.  But I needed to vent... and writing usually helps.  As much as this small incident freaked me out, it was kind of nice to have a reminder that God is totally aware of what's going on, and is constantly watching over me.  Now I need to go watch something funny, or smoke a cigar... or something(Kidding.)  I just need to get this gross feeling to go away.  Thanks for bearing with my probably over-dramatic story, internet.

And, cut.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

P90X = Death

For those of you interested in how day 1 of P90X treated me...

       Oh my good holy hell.  It about killed me.  We don't have our resistance bands yet, so we did the plyometrics instead of the back and abs - or whatever.  Plyometrics didn't sound as bad as doing a gazillion chin ups or push ups, or whatever the heck we were supposed to have done.  Wrong.  I don't think I've ever felt more out of shape than I did trying to do jumping jack squats or any number of leaps and bounds through the air last night.  I didn't even know what plyometrics was (obviously) until the we started bouncing around everywhere.  I felt a little bit sorry for our neighbors directly underneath us as Shawn and mine combined 300 pounds came crashing down every time we landed a jumping squat, or what have you.  Tony Horton kept yelling at us to "land softly," so hopefully that minimized the mini earthquakes our neighbors were most undoubtedly experiencing.

header 150x150       Before we started anything, Tony strongly advised that we not eat anything for at least an hour before starting the work out.  Oops.  I may or may not have eaten a cookie.  Or two.  Didn't you know?  That's the secret to losing weight.... cookies.  Sorry, Tony.  The video starts and naturally I'm already winded during the mother loving warm up.  That's not exactly ego boosting, but... whatever.  Shawn did a fabulous job of keeping up with everything.  There was a guy on the video who was doing the "modified" version of one of the moves.  Shawn laughed and exclaimed that he was a pansy... only to look over at me who was mimicking said modified move.  I about punched him square in the gullet.  But rather than resorting to violence, I probably just swore or stuck my tongue out at him - you know, part of that good wife act I'm pulling off.  You know the jackass in every work out video that is doing everything perfectly, but in warp speed?  Yeah, that guy was in the back... and I wanted to trip him.  

       Anyways, the jumping and torture and occasional lame joke from Tony lasted for an hour.  Let me tell you that that was possibly the longest hour of my entire life.  I was sure I was having a seizure from the shaking my legs were experiencing.  I look over at Shawn and ask him if he's hurting, and he says "You know, not really at all!"  It took all the strength, if any, I had left not to strangle him.  I just gently reminded him that the right answer was "Oh, totally!  It buuuuuuuurns!"  I promptly passed out on the floor and tried to catch my breath.

       My legs haven't been this sore since I ran the freaking half marathon.  Squatting on the toilet makes me want to die.  Actually, sitting down pretty much anywhere is somewhere close to agonizing.  But it's more or less what I expected.  It hurts so good.  These workouts are really gonna wear me out at first, I'm pretty positive of that.  But I have to stick with them.  After the first day, I can completely see why so many people give up.  I'm hoping that I can get a more positive attitude with time as well when it comes to these things.  Throughout the entire video I was saying how much I sucked at a certain move or that I was going to collapse and die, right there.  I feel like that probably doesn't really help the situation much.  I'm lucky to have a husband who is totally motivated and encourages my fat butt the entire time.  Sometimes I let my competitive self take over and I end up getting so frustrated because I'm not as in shape as he is.  But luckily, he's patient with me and I couldn't ask for a better personal trainer.  I had a friend tell me that he didn't think I'd be able to do it, and even told me I was ignorant for not realizing that this is what Marines use to work out, and that it was killer.  To that friend I respectfully say, yes it's hard - and there will be plenty of times I want to give up.  But I can do it.  I will do my best at it.  And you can shove it.  :)

Peace, internet.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

A Heavy Post

       The other night I had a complete meltdown.  News?  Not really.  Direct result of birth control, probably.  Was it centered around the fact that I'm having the hardest time in the world loving myself, mostly.  I realize that sounds totally and completely despondent - but I can't help but admit it's true.  I can't, for the life of me, accept my body.  Now, I'm not asking for a chorus of "You have a great body, stop complaining!"  Yes, I know it could be plenty worse - to the tune of being a 1200 pound bed-bound woman for the rest of my mortal life.  I kid.  But seriously... What is it with girls and having such body image issues?  I feel so completely bi-polar when it comes to liking my body.  Some days I'm like, "Hell yeah!  I'm foxy!"  And other days I look in the mirror and all I can see is the mass of cottage cheese in my butt and the rolls of flab on my belly that seem to be forming right before my very own eyes.  

       The part that mostly pisses me off, is I don't seem to have motivation to fix it.  My motivation comes in little poofs of, "I'm going to work out every day this week!" Or, "I'm not going to eat junk food for a week!"  And the next thing you know I'm smearing an entire bag of Famous Amos cookies all over my face while I watch some pointless TV show (read: The Bachlorette.)  I don't know why I feel so motivation-less.  I was telling Shawn that sometimes I feel like, so often I sit and do absolutely crap nothing at work - that when I get home I'm like, "Well, I haven't done anything productive all day, why start now?"  How does that add up?  Wouldn't you think sitting on my ass all day would make me want to go home and run around the block 784 times?  Apparently not.  

       I fear getting big.  I don't want to be that girl that people from high school see and are like, "Good holy crapper, that girl has put on the pounds!"  (Clearly I'm still rather unreasonably worried with what people think about me.)  I've gained about 15 pounds since high school.  I see pictures and videos of myself and I can tell I'm bigger.  Which happens, I get that.  But I refuse to be that person that just more or less, "lets themselves go."  I understand that eventually I'm going to have babies... and most likely gain weight.  I guess my issue is motivation.  I don't want to have babies, gain weight, then do nothing to try and get rid of the weight.  I need to retain these little spurts of motivation I have, and it's hard - because, well, I loathe the gym.  I loathe running.  I don't like a vast majority of the food that's technically healthy for you to eat.  

Mostly I've just been really frustrated with myself.  I asked Shawn for a blessing.  And let me tell you, that will get anyone's motivation going.  The Spirit is a mighty strong thing.  I thank the Lord every day that I have a husband who is so in tune with the Spirit and can give me another resource to communicate with my Father in Heaven - that's what's missing.  If I keep the spirit with me, I will stay healthy.  Even if I do put on some weight, I will still be healthy and able to do all the things which the Lord has set out for me.  The Lord wants to help me, and He wants me to love myself.  I know I can do that through Him.  Nothing is more motivating than knowing that I've been blessed with a body, and the opportunity to use it to serve the Lord with all my heart, mind, and strength.  I have divine qualities that I've been blessed with, and I may not have Megan Fox's body - but my personality would kick her butt any day.  I know I'll be able to see myself the way my husband, my family, and the Lord sees me - as I draw closer to my Heavenly Father's Spirit.

On a lighter note... in my effort to stay healthy I:
-Bought an buttload of fruit at Costco.  And am experiencing the gassiest moments of my entire life.  Thank you, fiber.
-Purchased P90X.  That may or may not kill me.  But do not fear, because there will be whiny updates about my ensuing death.
-Trying to run outside more than on the treadmill.  This is half due to the fact that my new Gold's Gym doesn't have a movie room.  What Gold's Gym doesn't have a movie room?!  Depressing.  Nevertheless, I still feel like an 800 pound asthmatic when I run outside.  But I'll get there.
-Won't eat as much as my husband.  Someone once told me that the key to not gaining weight is to not eat as much food as your husband.  Boy that couldn't be farther from the truth.  Shawn can eat 5 hamburgers and it goes straight to the toilet - as opposed to straight to his thighs, butt cheeks, and abs.  Sometimes being a boy would be grand.

That was a heavy (no pun intended - baha) post guys - sorry!  

Cheerio, Internet.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Mustache Hair, Nut Shots, & Menopause

I don't have much of anything important to say (do I ever?) but nevertheless...

-I have only had one more dream about being killed since my last post.  Except this time, I was... wait for it... a lion.  A lion.  More specifically, I was Mufasa and Scar was chasing me.  Um, hello.  I haven't watched The Lion King for a good solid 15 years - I'm pretty sure.  Translate that one.  It's amazing what my brain thinks up in my dreams.  My favorite is having dreams about my junior high crushes - post marriage.  Not.  Talk about awkward... Not to mention feeling totally guilty for holding hands with my junior high hearth throb.  More wife points for me.

-I've found that one of the more attractive benefits of marriage is the fact that I can bum around my house in underwear, or completely butt naked - and feel totally okay with it.  So there Shawn and I were sitting, wearing... well, mostly nothing - and watching TV.  (And yes, for all you naysayers that IS what we were doing.)  When all of a sudden someone knocks on the door.  Absolute sheer panic washes over both of our faces, because hello, we were definitely not wearing very many clothes.  And who ever comes to our house unannounced?  It wouldn't have been as big of a deal if the TV wasn't up so that whoever was on the other end of the door could hear it.  So naturally, I'm trying to get all my clothes off the floor and onto my body.  I manage to not put a bra on.  My dear husband manages to not put any underwear on.  After probably the longest two minutes ever, we compose ourselves and answer the door to three dudes in suits.  Good holy {bad word} - what an awesome time for the bishopric to show up.  (I finally used my grade A deductive reasoning skills and figured out they were the Elder's Quorum Presidency, totally not as bad.)   So we're obviously totally flushed when we answered the door.  And that was quite possibly the most awkward moment of my married life, ever.  We let them in and Shawn ever so discreetly swipes up the classy display of store-brand lube that only refined people have sitting on their coffee tables.  We sit across from them, me paranoid that my lack of bra is totally exposing R.T..  Shawn crosses his leg, only to quickly uncross it, concluding that he just gave the entire Elder's Quorum Presidency a nut shot.  It was a good visit, however.  I couldn't stop giggling to myself though.  As soon as they left we were both laughing hysterically.  It's maybe one of those location things that you just had to be there to understand the humor of it - because I guess now all I've left you with is fleeting images of myself and my husband nakedly scurrying to answer a door.  My bad.  :)    

-Shawn and I had a defining moment in our marriage when he tweezed a mustache hair off my face.  I've never felt like more of a woman.  
-I went on my first outside run of the year with Shawn.  Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel like a fat piece of lard like running outside.  I seriously don't know what my issue is.  I can run on a treadmill, not much of a problem.  However, stick me outside and I'm instantly gasping for air - and, not to mention whining about how hot it is.  I always feel bad that Shawn runs - ahem - walks by my side - because he's running the Wasatch Back in a couple of weeks and the Bryce Canyon half-marathon in July - and could use the training.  But bless his heart, he's the world's most patient husband and says he'll walk with me until I become the "Batman of running."  (His metaphors are just about as awesome as he is.)

-We got Lagoon Season Passes.  That's a first.  Maturity levels instantly plummet as soon as you enter that park.  I think my fear of heights has increased since being there last.  I can't stop thinking of ways that the rides could possibly result in death.  Paranoid much?  That said, I am excited to have a season pass.  I feel like a totally legit 15 year old.  (Speaking of 15-year-olds, is it me, or are kids getting scarier and scarier looking?  Perhaps I'm already senile.)

-Shawn and I bought Wii Play (which usually comes with most Wiis)  for 3 bucks.  If you'd like to see a husband and wife get over competitive at the most trivial of things - let Shawn and I play on your Wii.  When I beat Shawn, if you didn't know any better, you'd have thunk I murdered and ate his beloved cat, Mav.  I tried to be cool about it - but with him getting so competitive, it was totally hard not to gloat.  Once he actually figured out how to play the games, he'd start winning.  (I'm awesome and wouldn't tell him how to play.  Cheat much?)  There's this stupid tank game where you try to shoot all the bad tanks.  Yeah, we played that one a grand total of 43 times.  Only because we couldn't beat this certain level, and because we failed every time, we had to start over every time.  No joke here.  We're that awesome.  

-I really think I have a serious problem maintaining a constant body temperature.  I'm constantly asking Shawn to turn the AC on and off.  Perhaps I'm going through menopause - because that would make sense.

-Cough.  So I may or may not be watching The Bachlorette.  And is it just me, or do all the dudes pretty much seem like tools?  With the exception of maybe Roberto (every time I hear his name the Alejandro song resonates countless times in my mind.  Thank you, Lady Gaga.)  He seems decent.  I basically want to buy a pack of Huggies for the Weatherman (I did actually like him at first, but he's rubbing me the wrong way after last episode.)  Craig M. was completely sauced, all. the. time. - wasn't sad to see him go.  Justin is a complete and utter tool.  Entertainment wrestling?  No offense, but seriously?  And Kasey... what in the {bad word} is wrong with his voice?  I can not take him seriously.  Oh, and I sort of want to ultimate punch Ali whenever she giggles/laughs.  Barf.  And those are my strongest opinions on that train wreck of a show.  

-Speaking of TV, Glee.... is getting a little weird.  Just saying.

Aaaaand cut.

Godspeed, internet.



Thursday, June 3, 2010


I think I'm going crazy.  

The past 4 nights I've had dreams - rather, nightmares - about people trying to shoot and kill me.  I never know who they are.  But I guess I'd rather get shot in my dreams, as opposed to being devoured by hell beasts of the sea.  Just saying.

A couple nights ago I had a dream that an airplane I was in sunk to the bottom of the ocean and there was no way out.

I seriously hope there is no legitimate "translation" to these dreams - I imagine that would render my life a bit grim.  I swear I'm not psychotic.  At least I don't think so.

Apparently my mom had the same type of dreams when she was pregnant...  Dun dun dun.  Yeah, I'm totally kidding.  That would be the miracle of miracles.  (Or accident of accidents.  Hello.)

I'm going to go ahead and blame TV.  Easy.

I'm not the only one who has loony killing dreams, right?