Every commercial break during the reunion show of Teen Mom, I was reminded by the ever-so-wise Dr. Drew that teenage pregnancy is 100% preventable.
While I was in Cambodia I wrote my final article on family size and birth control. I learned that they get shots, take the pill, or use a patch.
In my roommates Sexual Development class this week they had a lecture from the health center lady that passed out condoms and reminded them to "Wrap Your HalloWeiner" this month.
This weekend, however, I discovered the greatest birth control of all time.
My cousin, her husband, and her three children came to visit my parents this weekend and I drove home to see them.
I've never been a huge fan of kids, but I always thought that I could handle them.
Now, as a preface, let me state that as far as kids go, these ones are amazing. Betsy and Jay were made to be parents and if it were up to me they would have seven more kids. The kids are polite and well mannered and not the annoying, bratty kids I dread having one day.
When Betsy and Jay went to an engagement party, however, it was up to me and my parents to bathe and put to bed the three kids. My mom and dad got the the 4 and 2 year old boys, and I was assigned to the almost year-old girl. How hard could it be?
So far she had been incredibly happy and easy to handle, minus her obsession with climbing the stairs. I was about to encounter how incredibly ignorant I am when it comes to understanding children.
First I realized that in order to put her in the bath I would have to take off her onesie...and her diaper. Please just be pee, please just be pee, I prayed. And alas, I had found favor with the Lord.
The water was just warm enough, but definitely not hot. If I were a baby, I would want this water. This baby, however, had a different idea.
As soon as I lowered the kid into the four inches of water, her mouth gaped open and the screaming began. Assuming I must have misjudged the water, I picked her out of the water. But now she was all wet. My immediate reaction to pull her towards me and "shhhhh" her and rock her were thwarted by the fact that she was dripping. So instead I held her over the bath tub, my arms completely outstretched, as I watched her scream and cry and snot, a look of sheer terror on my face.
There was a moment there when I sent her the mental message, which I'm positive she picked up on before me, that I had no idea what in the heck I was doing.
I tried to replace her in the water once, then twice. And then I gave up. Luckily Betsy wasn't the only experienced mom around, so I brought the baby into my parents bathroom where the boys were playing in the tub. I handed over Crying Child to Mother and she calmly took her from me, sat her in the water, washed her with a washcloth for about 20 seconds, and handed her back to me. I was prepared, holding my stance behind my mom, towel draped over my arms, ready to catch the kid.
Now, had I known that you were allowed to bathe the kid while she was screaming bloody murder, I probably could have handled it. Probably. Ok, maybe.
Next, I had to put a diaper back on her. WHY DO THEY MAKE THOSE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?! The back looks exactly like the front. My mom had withheld the information that there are little tabby things on the back that wrap around to the front. Probably could have figured that out too. Ok, ok. Maybe.
After bath time was milk time. Naturally the kid didn't want to drink her milk. But she did calm down, and I sat with her for almost an hour watching the UGA game. We chilled out, relaxed a bit, maybe dozed off.
Point being: If my kid doesn't pee, poop, snot, cry, whine, or move, I can handle it. But until they make kids like that, I would like to give a big shout out to my cousin for reminding me how young and naive I am, and how I should probably stay away from children for a good five to ten to fifteen years.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Profile Article for Class
Bob so kindly pointed out that I have only blogged once this month and considering I have to write for class, which is what's keeping me so busy, I can just copy and paste that onto here. I wrote this article about a friend of mine I met in my LGBT Spirituality class last semester. She's super intriguing and inspiring. This will have you occupied for a while.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meagan Buford had her voice taken away, so now she is giving a voice to the deaf. As a senior in high school, the now 22-year-old began dating a female member of her rugby team. As the news of her new relationship spread, she was not only rejected by her family but shunned by her church. Today her experience propels her to help others who feel lonely or rejected.
From seventh grade to graduation, Buford was at church every Sunday and Wednesday, attending every youth retreat and ski trip. “It was either Jesus or sports,” she said. Buford also mentored younger girls. The girls would ask if they could sit and talk with her and the answer was always, “Yes.” Buford heard stories from girls who cut themselves and had been sexually abused, stories the girls’ parents knew nothing about. These parents, however, were some of the first to cast stones at Buford when she came out of the closet.
“They said I couldn’t mentor their kids because I’m gay,” she said. Three of her leaders from YoungLife, a Christian organization, told her they thought it was wrong that she was gay, and she was stripped of her leadership position at her church. “I still had an understanding of who I was and what I believed,” she said.
High school friend Carly Wright, 22, said she wasn’t too surprised when she found out about Meagan’s girlfriend. “I always had a suspicion,” she said. Though few and far between, Buford was lucky to have friends like Wright to accept her. “I believe in equal rights,” Wright said. “Love knows no gender in my opinion.”
In high school, Buford wanted to enter a profession where she could help people; she wanted to do physical therapy or Christian counseling, and even drew up blue prints for a shelter for homeless teens. “I’m just somebody who loves people and loves to make people feel wanted,” she said.
Wright says people are the most important thing in Buford’s life. “Meagan is definitely a people person,” Wright said. “She is very caring and loving to those she is close to and those in her community.”
Buford’s girlfriend, Lindsey Neely, 22, recalls a time when she was preparing to read at a poetry slam in Milledgeville, Ga. but Meagan wouldn’t be able to make it due to a test the next morning. “In order to still make it that night, Meagan took the test early and surprised me by showing up at my apartment about an hour before the slam,” Neely said. “She is always doing things like that; surprising me with flowers or just being there for me when I need her.”
After she came out, however, not everyone wanted her help. The parents of girls she mentored were forward about not wanting Buford around their children anymore, and her family looked at her in a whole new light. “It’s like wearing a scarlet letter,” she said, strategically placing her fingers on her forehead. “A big ole’ G.” But this wasn’t the first encounter Buford had with loneliness.
As a child, Buford’s military family moved from state to state. In her second grade year, the family moved to Marysville, Wash., just north of Seattle. She would have been put into the accelerated program at her new school but there was no such thing. Instead, they put the lower level third graders with the upper level second graders.
Buford, who thought she was very cool for a second grader, and bragged about the retainer she had, the one with blue sparkles. Her classmates, however, thought differently. During free time, everyone played Oregon Trail on the computer. Everyone, that is, but Buford. No one would let her play with them and so at a very young age, she learned a very important lesson.
“I knew even then that it wasn’t right to treat someone like s--- because they’re different than you,” she said. Instead of playing with the other kids, Buford sought sanctuary in a bean bag chair in the corner of the room where she read the American Sign Language dictionary. “I didn’t have to worry about feeding my cattle,” she said, “I just fed my brain.” That was her first glance at a future working with the deaf community.
It’s difficult to picture this woman, described as upbeat and contagious by Wright, being ostracized and sitting alone. “She is not shy,” Neely said, “and she is able to make anyone feel comfortable and at home around her.”
“I vowed in second grade [to help the deaf] cause I never wanted anyone to feel as lonely as I felt,” Buford said. And that’s exactly what she has done. As a sophomore in college she began taking American Sign Language (ASL) classes. Four semesters later, she considers herself fluent enough to pass as deaf. She wanted to learn the language quickly, so she tried to fully immerse herself.
“It’s not like I can study abroad in a deaf country,” she said, so instead she did extra activities outside of class and watched YouTube videos to accelerate her learning.
Buford says she feels comfortable in the deaf community because of the many parallels that can be drawn between them and the gay community. She says many ASL translators are gay because they know what it’s like to be different.
“There are preconceived notions about the way deaf and gay people act,” Wright, who is also involved with ASL, said. “In reality, we are all the same. We all have struggles in life.”
Both groups are minorities made to feel ostracized by a society that doesn’t understand them. With only an estimated 8.8 million gay and an estimated 28.8 million deaf people in the United States, many deaf and gay people report feeling inadequate for society.
According to the Gallaudet University Archives, in 1883 it was proposed that two deaf people shouldn’t be able to marry because they would isolate themselves from hearing society, much like laws still stand to prevent marriage of two gay people in America. Apart from society as a whole, parents of gay or deaf children frequently think they can “fix” their child with certain training or therapy.
“We’re not broken...do you want your money back or something?” Buford asked. Her parents still don’t accept Buford’s sexuality, and after she brought Neely to a family function, her father asked her to leave her “friend” at home next time.
Her grandfather, who Buford considers the rock of the family, was not surprised when she came out to him. Buford’s tattooed military portrait of him on her right shoulder offers a friendly smile as she talks about him. After the news of her new girlfriend spread throughout the school and her brother outed her to her parents, Buford didn’t have a chance to come out directly to almost anyone except for her grandfather. After sitting him down and explaining everything to him, he simply responded, “I always knew you favored women.”
Torn between the gay community and the Christian community, Buford has come to a realization. “I think Christians stereotype gays as much as gays stereotype Christians,” she said.
Today, Buford identifies neither with Christian nor with lesbian. “If you identify as something, people like to put you in a box,” she said. She explained that if you say you’re a lesbian people think you must be “butch,” wear plaid and ride a Harley. If you say you’re Christian then you must be the kind of Bible-thumping person who forces The Word on people.
She does, however, feel as close as ever to her early love, the deaf community. Being ostracized at different parts of her life has given Meagan Buford the experience and strength to reach out to those less fortunate. “Feeling like I’m back in the bean bag is when I make the most progress,” she said.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meagan Buford had her voice taken away, so now she is giving a voice to the deaf. As a senior in high school, the now 22-year-old began dating a female member of her rugby team. As the news of her new relationship spread, she was not only rejected by her family but shunned by her church. Today her experience propels her to help others who feel lonely or rejected.
From seventh grade to graduation, Buford was at church every Sunday and Wednesday, attending every youth retreat and ski trip. “It was either Jesus or sports,” she said. Buford also mentored younger girls. The girls would ask if they could sit and talk with her and the answer was always, “Yes.” Buford heard stories from girls who cut themselves and had been sexually abused, stories the girls’ parents knew nothing about. These parents, however, were some of the first to cast stones at Buford when she came out of the closet.
“They said I couldn’t mentor their kids because I’m gay,” she said. Three of her leaders from YoungLife, a Christian organization, told her they thought it was wrong that she was gay, and she was stripped of her leadership position at her church. “I still had an understanding of who I was and what I believed,” she said.
High school friend Carly Wright, 22, said she wasn’t too surprised when she found out about Meagan’s girlfriend. “I always had a suspicion,” she said. Though few and far between, Buford was lucky to have friends like Wright to accept her. “I believe in equal rights,” Wright said. “Love knows no gender in my opinion.”
In high school, Buford wanted to enter a profession where she could help people; she wanted to do physical therapy or Christian counseling, and even drew up blue prints for a shelter for homeless teens. “I’m just somebody who loves people and loves to make people feel wanted,” she said.
Wright says people are the most important thing in Buford’s life. “Meagan is definitely a people person,” Wright said. “She is very caring and loving to those she is close to and those in her community.”
Buford’s girlfriend, Lindsey Neely, 22, recalls a time when she was preparing to read at a poetry slam in Milledgeville, Ga. but Meagan wouldn’t be able to make it due to a test the next morning. “In order to still make it that night, Meagan took the test early and surprised me by showing up at my apartment about an hour before the slam,” Neely said. “She is always doing things like that; surprising me with flowers or just being there for me when I need her.”
After she came out, however, not everyone wanted her help. The parents of girls she mentored were forward about not wanting Buford around their children anymore, and her family looked at her in a whole new light. “It’s like wearing a scarlet letter,” she said, strategically placing her fingers on her forehead. “A big ole’ G.” But this wasn’t the first encounter Buford had with loneliness.
As a child, Buford’s military family moved from state to state. In her second grade year, the family moved to Marysville, Wash., just north of Seattle. She would have been put into the accelerated program at her new school but there was no such thing. Instead, they put the lower level third graders with the upper level second graders.
Buford, who thought she was very cool for a second grader, and bragged about the retainer she had, the one with blue sparkles. Her classmates, however, thought differently. During free time, everyone played Oregon Trail on the computer. Everyone, that is, but Buford. No one would let her play with them and so at a very young age, she learned a very important lesson.
“I knew even then that it wasn’t right to treat someone like s--- because they’re different than you,” she said. Instead of playing with the other kids, Buford sought sanctuary in a bean bag chair in the corner of the room where she read the American Sign Language dictionary. “I didn’t have to worry about feeding my cattle,” she said, “I just fed my brain.” That was her first glance at a future working with the deaf community.
It’s difficult to picture this woman, described as upbeat and contagious by Wright, being ostracized and sitting alone. “She is not shy,” Neely said, “and she is able to make anyone feel comfortable and at home around her.”
“I vowed in second grade [to help the deaf] cause I never wanted anyone to feel as lonely as I felt,” Buford said. And that’s exactly what she has done. As a sophomore in college she began taking American Sign Language (ASL) classes. Four semesters later, she considers herself fluent enough to pass as deaf. She wanted to learn the language quickly, so she tried to fully immerse herself.
“It’s not like I can study abroad in a deaf country,” she said, so instead she did extra activities outside of class and watched YouTube videos to accelerate her learning.
Buford says she feels comfortable in the deaf community because of the many parallels that can be drawn between them and the gay community. She says many ASL translators are gay because they know what it’s like to be different.
“There are preconceived notions about the way deaf and gay people act,” Wright, who is also involved with ASL, said. “In reality, we are all the same. We all have struggles in life.”
Both groups are minorities made to feel ostracized by a society that doesn’t understand them. With only an estimated 8.8 million gay and an estimated 28.8 million deaf people in the United States, many deaf and gay people report feeling inadequate for society.
According to the Gallaudet University Archives, in 1883 it was proposed that two deaf people shouldn’t be able to marry because they would isolate themselves from hearing society, much like laws still stand to prevent marriage of two gay people in America. Apart from society as a whole, parents of gay or deaf children frequently think they can “fix” their child with certain training or therapy.
“We’re not broken...do you want your money back or something?” Buford asked. Her parents still don’t accept Buford’s sexuality, and after she brought Neely to a family function, her father asked her to leave her “friend” at home next time.
Her grandfather, who Buford considers the rock of the family, was not surprised when she came out to him. Buford’s tattooed military portrait of him on her right shoulder offers a friendly smile as she talks about him. After the news of her new girlfriend spread throughout the school and her brother outed her to her parents, Buford didn’t have a chance to come out directly to almost anyone except for her grandfather. After sitting him down and explaining everything to him, he simply responded, “I always knew you favored women.”
Torn between the gay community and the Christian community, Buford has come to a realization. “I think Christians stereotype gays as much as gays stereotype Christians,” she said.
Today, Buford identifies neither with Christian nor with lesbian. “If you identify as something, people like to put you in a box,” she said. She explained that if you say you’re a lesbian people think you must be “butch,” wear plaid and ride a Harley. If you say you’re Christian then you must be the kind of Bible-thumping person who forces The Word on people.
She does, however, feel as close as ever to her early love, the deaf community. Being ostracized at different parts of her life has given Meagan Buford the experience and strength to reach out to those less fortunate. “Feeling like I’m back in the bean bag is when I make the most progress,” she said.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Sun, sun, go away
It's Saturday in Athens. And, hey!, we actually won! AND I actually went to the game! Needless to say, it's no normal Saturday.
I have some game day advice for all the frequent visitors of Sanford Stadium. Aside from drinking lots of water and not forgetting your ticket, hear me out dawg fans: WEAR SUNSCREEN.
I can see my mother nodding in approval of my wisdom.
But sorry, Mother, this is not strictly for responsibility reasons of saving my skin and avoiding cancer. You should all wear sunscreen come Saturday afternoons to avoid terrible, horrible, no good, very bad tan lines.
Now normal tan lines around your arm from a t-shirt are almost unavoidable and much less embarrassing. The ones I'm referring to are what I'm left with after today's game.
1. The arm tan. My sleeveless dress helped me stay away from the farmer's tan, but I still managed an infinitely obvious line across my shoulder. It was only my left shoulder though so I only look half like a freak.
2. The sunglass tan. Go ahead and accept this one. With your lack of sunscreen you can either accept the sunglass tan and match your fellow classmates come Monday, or you can suffer through three hours of squinting into the sun that so kindly shines directly on the student section.
3. The chest tan. Beware of your neckline as you get dressed in your gameday sorostitute attire because, should you forego sunscreen, you will have to wear clothes with this exact same neck for a week to hide your new, semi-permanent neckline.
4. The necklace tan. Luckily I was smart enough to remove my large and in charge necklace before the game started because I am all too used to giving people awkward side-stares on the Monday after when they have the sunburnt outline of a chunky necklace that seemed like a good idea at the time.
5. The worst. And definitely most embarrassing and impossible to hide: The Georgia "G" tan line. That's right. Those adorable little face tattoos that you put on your cheek to show how spirited you are. I now have a pale oval on my cheek. There is no excuse for it's placement except for a "G" tattoo or falling asleep on the beach with only your thumb on the side of your face.
So, all-weather fans, beware of this bitch of a life source we call the sun. Next time I hope you will consider bringing along the SPF and if not, you have been warned.
I have some game day advice for all the frequent visitors of Sanford Stadium. Aside from drinking lots of water and not forgetting your ticket, hear me out dawg fans: WEAR SUNSCREEN.
I can see my mother nodding in approval of my wisdom.
But sorry, Mother, this is not strictly for responsibility reasons of saving my skin and avoiding cancer. You should all wear sunscreen come Saturday afternoons to avoid terrible, horrible, no good, very bad tan lines.
Now normal tan lines around your arm from a t-shirt are almost unavoidable and much less embarrassing. The ones I'm referring to are what I'm left with after today's game.
1. The arm tan. My sleeveless dress helped me stay away from the farmer's tan, but I still managed an infinitely obvious line across my shoulder. It was only my left shoulder though so I only look half like a freak.
2. The sunglass tan. Go ahead and accept this one. With your lack of sunscreen you can either accept the sunglass tan and match your fellow classmates come Monday, or you can suffer through three hours of squinting into the sun that so kindly shines directly on the student section.
3. The chest tan. Beware of your neckline as you get dressed in your gameday sorostitute attire because, should you forego sunscreen, you will have to wear clothes with this exact same neck for a week to hide your new, semi-permanent neckline.
4. The necklace tan. Luckily I was smart enough to remove my large and in charge necklace before the game started because I am all too used to giving people awkward side-stares on the Monday after when they have the sunburnt outline of a chunky necklace that seemed like a good idea at the time.
5. The worst. And definitely most embarrassing and impossible to hide: The Georgia "G" tan line. That's right. Those adorable little face tattoos that you put on your cheek to show how spirited you are. I now have a pale oval on my cheek. There is no excuse for it's placement except for a "G" tattoo or falling asleep on the beach with only your thumb on the side of your face.
So, all-weather fans, beware of this bitch of a life source we call the sun. Next time I hope you will consider bringing along the SPF and if not, you have been warned.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Who's up for some nostalgia?
I had to practice descriptive writing in one of my classes the other day and we had to write about a kitchen. Any kitchen. So I wrote about my parents'/my childhood kitchen. Here goes.
The granite countertops are black swirled with yellow, a fancy stone that is the product of a homeowner who owns a granite business. He put them in himself, no sweat for the handyman. They’re durable, like the family that uses them, able to hold the weight of a person or resist the blade of a knife. They wrap around three sides of the kitchen and in the smack dab center, under the windows to the backyard, is the sink. Split in two, one side has an absurdly loud disposal and the other just a drain. There is a broken hot water nozzle that petered out after serving hundreds of cups of instant coffee. The two levels of cabinets are white, brighter white in spots that have been chipped and then painted over with a fresh coat. They make a very distinct sound when they are closed that can be recognized from any corner of the six bedroom house, the noise that has been known to announce breakfast. At the top of the cup cabinet are the glasses painted with butterflies and birds, the ones that are saved for company. In one corner, a worn out air vent lies pathetically, the swirled design of the cover pressed inward from the many winter mornings when the daughters would stand on it’s warmth while they ate breakfast before school. The walk-in pantry sits to the left of the new refrigerator along the wall without granite. The pantry smells like dog food and is filled with canned foods, dog treats and Easter baskets. This is where the vegetable oil and the Pam reside, useful knowledge if you get the urge to make brownies. If you walk into the pantry, be ready for the black lab and probably the neighbor’s Jack Russell to follow at your heels, eagerly awaiting a dropped treat. The two dogs growl and play with each other, their feet sliding on the hard wood floors. The floors are tired though, and have learned to expect the harsh daily use. They’ve been walked on by hundreds of people, tens of dogs, and have delighted in 15 years worth of after-dinner father-daughter waltzes. The kitchen is worn, but it feels like home.
The granite countertops are black swirled with yellow, a fancy stone that is the product of a homeowner who owns a granite business. He put them in himself, no sweat for the handyman. They’re durable, like the family that uses them, able to hold the weight of a person or resist the blade of a knife. They wrap around three sides of the kitchen and in the smack dab center, under the windows to the backyard, is the sink. Split in two, one side has an absurdly loud disposal and the other just a drain. There is a broken hot water nozzle that petered out after serving hundreds of cups of instant coffee. The two levels of cabinets are white, brighter white in spots that have been chipped and then painted over with a fresh coat. They make a very distinct sound when they are closed that can be recognized from any corner of the six bedroom house, the noise that has been known to announce breakfast. At the top of the cup cabinet are the glasses painted with butterflies and birds, the ones that are saved for company. In one corner, a worn out air vent lies pathetically, the swirled design of the cover pressed inward from the many winter mornings when the daughters would stand on it’s warmth while they ate breakfast before school. The walk-in pantry sits to the left of the new refrigerator along the wall without granite. The pantry smells like dog food and is filled with canned foods, dog treats and Easter baskets. This is where the vegetable oil and the Pam reside, useful knowledge if you get the urge to make brownies. If you walk into the pantry, be ready for the black lab and probably the neighbor’s Jack Russell to follow at your heels, eagerly awaiting a dropped treat. The two dogs growl and play with each other, their feet sliding on the hard wood floors. The floors are tired though, and have learned to expect the harsh daily use. They’ve been walked on by hundreds of people, tens of dogs, and have delighted in 15 years worth of after-dinner father-daughter waltzes. The kitchen is worn, but it feels like home.
Monday, September 27, 2010
GTL...minus the T. And skimpin on the L.
Manfriend and I have a bet going.
Here's some background:
When I went to Asia this summer I was still dealing with my reflux issues and, consequently, ate next to nothing for five weeks. I lost 8 pounds. Pretty awesome if I was trying to lose weight. Mostly, I was just trying not to get sick. Which didn't quite work.
But I digress.
When I got home from Asia, and, I'm happy to share, until this day, I felt much better. So for two weeks in June, beginning the moment I stepped back into 5585 Bannergate, I ate everything. No exaggeration, people. EVERYTHING.
I out-ate both my father and homeboy that night. So after I lost my 8 pounds in five weeks, I gained 15 in the next 3. Remember that time you thought I was exaggerating when I said I ate everything? Take it back.
Manfriend also reached his all-time high this summer and we made a group decision that we were both fat. And hence the bet was conceived.
Now we don't have to get into the details of said bet, all you need to know is that I'm at the gym at least four times a week. And if I didn't have my built-in elliptical TV or trusty iPod, I would still be entertained.
"Why?" you might ask. Because of the people that go to the gym. Let me describe them to you. And yes, I have seen all of these people with my own eyes.
The Skinny Mini: You work out way too much. Stop, because your friends are worried about you. But really. Stop.
The Hollywood Dreamer: You don't realize that while you can hear the music coming out of your headphones, everyone around you can't. Your high pitched exclamation of "PAPA-PAPARAZZI" does not go unnoticed. The people around you try to not laugh, even though they can hear you over their own music. Keep up the good work, rockstar.
The Screech: You're a man, and you're trying to bulk up. You weigh less than me. You have glasses and don't change the weight on the machines after I get off them and you get on. You wear a wife-beater to look like the other guys in the gym, but it is a poor, poor decision.
The Marathoner: When I come into the gym, you are on the treadmill. After my 30 minutes of elliptical, you remain on the treadmill. After my twenty minutes of weights and machines, you are still on the treadmill. As I stretch, I stare at your legs and wonder if they are real. Cause you are still on the treadmill. I would not be surprised if tomorrow, when I return, you are still on the treadmill.
The Awkward Dresser: You are wearing jeans. Or sweat pants. Or flip flops. Or a nice sweater. Your hair is down. You are most likely Asian. And I wonder why you don't look at the other 30 people in the gym and take some pointers.
The Jealousy-inciter: You have a KILLER body. You wear tight little spandex shorts and a top that leaves two inches of perfectly toned stomach exposed. Your thighs don't touch when you walk. You don't even need the skinny arm. You are what the rest of us are working towards.
The First-Timer: We've all been you, so no offense, just own it. You get on the elliptical only to be kicked off by the person that knew to sign up for it at the front desk. You give up after one set of free weights when you realize you're half as strong as you imagined. You don't change any settings on the weight machines and find yourself attempting to leg press 480 lbs.
The Freshman: You try your hardest to look cute. Your ponytail is awkwardly high on your head and it swishes as you run. You watch Hannah Montana on the treadmill because you and Miley are the same age and you feel like you grew up together. Your socks match your Nike Tempo shorts. Your iPod is pink.
The Ancient Gem: You are an old decrepit lady, and I have seen you multiple times at the gym. For pushin' 130, you are jacked. I am so darn proud of you. You go, girl.
And my most favorite of all,
The Situation: You think you look like him, or maybe you do. You are most likely ripped and wear tight shirts with the sleeves cut off so you can see your muscles bulging as you lift. You must max out every exercise you do everyday to prove your manliness. As you lay down ready to bench you close your eyes to prepare for the feat ahead. You make extremely awkward, somewhat suggestive noises as you lift. Occasionally you change it up and make "tssssss" noises as you let the weight go. Your face contorts in ways I never could have imagined possible. You, my friend, win the award for Most Entertaining.
Here's some background:
When I went to Asia this summer I was still dealing with my reflux issues and, consequently, ate next to nothing for five weeks. I lost 8 pounds. Pretty awesome if I was trying to lose weight. Mostly, I was just trying not to get sick. Which didn't quite work.
But I digress.
When I got home from Asia, and, I'm happy to share, until this day, I felt much better. So for two weeks in June, beginning the moment I stepped back into 5585 Bannergate, I ate everything. No exaggeration, people. EVERYTHING.
I out-ate both my father and homeboy that night. So after I lost my 8 pounds in five weeks, I gained 15 in the next 3. Remember that time you thought I was exaggerating when I said I ate everything? Take it back.
Manfriend also reached his all-time high this summer and we made a group decision that we were both fat. And hence the bet was conceived.
Now we don't have to get into the details of said bet, all you need to know is that I'm at the gym at least four times a week. And if I didn't have my built-in elliptical TV or trusty iPod, I would still be entertained.
"Why?" you might ask. Because of the people that go to the gym. Let me describe them to you. And yes, I have seen all of these people with my own eyes.
The Skinny Mini: You work out way too much. Stop, because your friends are worried about you. But really. Stop.
The Hollywood Dreamer: You don't realize that while you can hear the music coming out of your headphones, everyone around you can't. Your high pitched exclamation of "PAPA-PAPARAZZI" does not go unnoticed. The people around you try to not laugh, even though they can hear you over their own music. Keep up the good work, rockstar.
The Screech: You're a man, and you're trying to bulk up. You weigh less than me. You have glasses and don't change the weight on the machines after I get off them and you get on. You wear a wife-beater to look like the other guys in the gym, but it is a poor, poor decision.
The Marathoner: When I come into the gym, you are on the treadmill. After my 30 minutes of elliptical, you remain on the treadmill. After my twenty minutes of weights and machines, you are still on the treadmill. As I stretch, I stare at your legs and wonder if they are real. Cause you are still on the treadmill. I would not be surprised if tomorrow, when I return, you are still on the treadmill.
The Awkward Dresser: You are wearing jeans. Or sweat pants. Or flip flops. Or a nice sweater. Your hair is down. You are most likely Asian. And I wonder why you don't look at the other 30 people in the gym and take some pointers.
The Jealousy-inciter: You have a KILLER body. You wear tight little spandex shorts and a top that leaves two inches of perfectly toned stomach exposed. Your thighs don't touch when you walk. You don't even need the skinny arm. You are what the rest of us are working towards.
The First-Timer: We've all been you, so no offense, just own it. You get on the elliptical only to be kicked off by the person that knew to sign up for it at the front desk. You give up after one set of free weights when you realize you're half as strong as you imagined. You don't change any settings on the weight machines and find yourself attempting to leg press 480 lbs.
The Freshman: You try your hardest to look cute. Your ponytail is awkwardly high on your head and it swishes as you run. You watch Hannah Montana on the treadmill because you and Miley are the same age and you feel like you grew up together. Your socks match your Nike Tempo shorts. Your iPod is pink.
The Ancient Gem: You are an old decrepit lady, and I have seen you multiple times at the gym. For pushin' 130, you are jacked. I am so darn proud of you. You go, girl.
And my most favorite of all,
The Situation: You think you look like him, or maybe you do. You are most likely ripped and wear tight shirts with the sleeves cut off so you can see your muscles bulging as you lift. You must max out every exercise you do everyday to prove your manliness. As you lay down ready to bench you close your eyes to prepare for the feat ahead. You make extremely awkward, somewhat suggestive noises as you lift. Occasionally you change it up and make "tssssss" noises as you let the weight go. Your face contorts in ways I never could have imagined possible. You, my friend, win the award for Most Entertaining.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
My Apologies.
Dear Blog,
I'm sorry. I have been cheating on you with school work and grad school applications. I would apologize but my future is a demanding harlot. To give the readers something to keep them occupied, how about we introduce www.lamebook.com. It's a compilation of all the strangest/funniest/most embarrassing things posted on Facebook. And we all know how much I love to make fun of "the social network." A personal favorite Facebook status: "Jesus had two dads and he turned out OK." I will try to return soon with something of more substance, but until then: enjoy.
Love, Cindy
I'm sorry. I have been cheating on you with school work and grad school applications. I would apologize but my future is a demanding harlot. To give the readers something to keep them occupied, how about we introduce www.lamebook.com. It's a compilation of all the strangest/funniest/most embarrassing things posted on Facebook. And we all know how much I love to make fun of "the social network." A personal favorite Facebook status: "Jesus had two dads and he turned out OK." I will try to return soon with something of more substance, but until then: enjoy.
Love, Cindy
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The American Way
Yesterday the UGA ROTC had a memorial for the people that died in the attacks on 9/11 nine years ago, and today at the USC v. UGA football game they held a memorial during the first half. I've always been a sucker for all things military and I can't help but shed a tear every time I hear the Star Spangled Banner, which isn't always appropriate (i.e. MonsterJam 2010). But this video gets me in the first 20 seconds. Here's to the men and women serving our country:
And here's my favorite song from 2002. I may not be as much of a war hawk anymore but I still have Toby Keith's back on this one.
And here's my favorite song from 2002. I may not be as much of a war hawk anymore but I still have Toby Keith's back on this one.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
UGAmateurs
On Monday the UGAtheists held "Stone a Heathen Day" at our public forum in the middle of campus, Tate Plaza. They put up posters with quotes from the Bible about when you should stone someone, had a boy stand in the middle of Tate Plaza holding a sign that said "Heathen! (Me)" with an arrow pointing to himself, and encouraged students passing through the plaza to throw "stones" (water balloons) at the heathen.
I'm not totally sure how I feel about this yet. There are tons of people that like to think of themselves as open to new cultures and ideas; who sympathetically act interested in the culture of a Buddhist classmate or pretend they aren't put off by a stranger's turban. Yet it is almost unspeakable in this Bible belt of ours to identify as an atheist.
Randall Bourquin, president of the UGAtheists, is extremely involved on campus. He was an orientation leader (an incredible honor), is in a fraternity and is known across campus. When I showed people that video I couldn't help but feel their attitudes change towards him. He states in this interview that it isn't easy being an atheist in a community such as UGA. And I'm sure it isn't. People's reactions when you simply say you aren't a Christian mix between turnt-up noses and pity that the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ hasn't "saved" you yet. Oh, but he will.
So I think we should face atheism with open minds and consider it just another religion. Or...antireligion. In my mind, I'm not going to discriminate against any other theological beliefs because there is absolutely no way to prove it. If there were, we'd all be on the same page. We won't know until we're dead and then what? We're dead. So let's treat eachother with a little respect.
That being said. I think the UGAtheists pretty much just made themselves look foolish. They weren't expressing their beliefs, they were instead putting down other religions' beliefs. They aimed towards Christianity but the quotes they used about stoning came from the Old Testament, hence Judaism. They obviously did their research. Plus, it's just an international rule that Leviticus is a bunch of bologna.
If the UGAtheists were trying to prove a point that they should be excepted as having just another system beliefs, they approached it the wrong way. Putting down Islam doesn't prove a point for Christianity, just as putting down Christianity/Judaism doesn't prove that we should all be atheists. I think it's safe to say that all religions have completely bewildering parts about them. Including atheism. They could have built themselves up by having pamphlets and a table describing their beliefs but instead they made a giant step backward and have probably lost any hope of being accepted at this Bible belt university.
I'm not totally sure how I feel about this yet. There are tons of people that like to think of themselves as open to new cultures and ideas; who sympathetically act interested in the culture of a Buddhist classmate or pretend they aren't put off by a stranger's turban. Yet it is almost unspeakable in this Bible belt of ours to identify as an atheist.
Randall Bourquin, president of the UGAtheists, is extremely involved on campus. He was an orientation leader (an incredible honor), is in a fraternity and is known across campus. When I showed people that video I couldn't help but feel their attitudes change towards him. He states in this interview that it isn't easy being an atheist in a community such as UGA. And I'm sure it isn't. People's reactions when you simply say you aren't a Christian mix between turnt-up noses and pity that the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ hasn't "saved" you yet. Oh, but he will.
So I think we should face atheism with open minds and consider it just another religion. Or...antireligion. In my mind, I'm not going to discriminate against any other theological beliefs because there is absolutely no way to prove it. If there were, we'd all be on the same page. We won't know until we're dead and then what? We're dead. So let's treat eachother with a little respect.
That being said. I think the UGAtheists pretty much just made themselves look foolish. They weren't expressing their beliefs, they were instead putting down other religions' beliefs. They aimed towards Christianity but the quotes they used about stoning came from the Old Testament, hence Judaism. They obviously did their research. Plus, it's just an international rule that Leviticus is a bunch of bologna.
If the UGAtheists were trying to prove a point that they should be excepted as having just another system beliefs, they approached it the wrong way. Putting down Islam doesn't prove a point for Christianity, just as putting down Christianity/Judaism doesn't prove that we should all be atheists. I think it's safe to say that all religions have completely bewildering parts about them. Including atheism. They could have built themselves up by having pamphlets and a table describing their beliefs but instead they made a giant step backward and have probably lost any hope of being accepted at this Bible belt university.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Mother may I?
I love the Duggars. And any other quickly multiplying family that TLC has to offer. Yet at this time in my life, the only reason I want a kid is to give me something to blog about.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Snacks on the go
So it's back to school time and sitting through my classes has reminded me of something I meant to list out all last year.
Foods you shouldn't eat in class. All from personal experience.
Oranges. I decided to bring an orange to class one day and not only is it a messy fruit to peel, you get that shimmery film all over your hands which makes it dang near impossible to take any legible notes.
Chips. Could you choose a louder snack? A kid in one of my classes brought sun chips to our small class of 16 and did that thing where you try to open the bag slowly so it doesn't make a loud noise all at once but ends up just crinkling and crunching way longer than necessary. Just put the bag out of it's misery and open all at once.
Which leads us to pretzels. Like chips, it's possibly one of the loudest foods to eat. Plus you get crumbles all over yourself.
Trying to avoid crumbs? Maybe you'll eat an apple. On second thought, don't. It's a whole nother classification of loud foods. Instead of the crinkling of the bag, you get the loud slurping bites out of an apple. You'll probably forget to bring a napkin and end up drooling on yourself a little.
Last but not least, takeout. You'd think this one would be implied by the fact that it's an entire meal in a box, but I've seen it happen. You've got your loud styrofoam container with your plastic fork and it wouldn't be a big deal except that more than likely you will smell up the entire room. Which will either repulse your classmates or leave them thinking about lunch for the next 75 minutes.
When picking a snack for class, choose wisely.
Foods you shouldn't eat in class. All from personal experience.
Oranges. I decided to bring an orange to class one day and not only is it a messy fruit to peel, you get that shimmery film all over your hands which makes it dang near impossible to take any legible notes.
Chips. Could you choose a louder snack? A kid in one of my classes brought sun chips to our small class of 16 and did that thing where you try to open the bag slowly so it doesn't make a loud noise all at once but ends up just crinkling and crunching way longer than necessary. Just put the bag out of it's misery and open all at once.
Which leads us to pretzels. Like chips, it's possibly one of the loudest foods to eat. Plus you get crumbles all over yourself.
Trying to avoid crumbs? Maybe you'll eat an apple. On second thought, don't. It's a whole nother classification of loud foods. Instead of the crinkling of the bag, you get the loud slurping bites out of an apple. You'll probably forget to bring a napkin and end up drooling on yourself a little.
Last but not least, takeout. You'd think this one would be implied by the fact that it's an entire meal in a box, but I've seen it happen. You've got your loud styrofoam container with your plastic fork and it wouldn't be a big deal except that more than likely you will smell up the entire room. Which will either repulse your classmates or leave them thinking about lunch for the next 75 minutes.
When picking a snack for class, choose wisely.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Doggone dead.
An article published in the UGA Red and Black the other day gave a profile on a 23-year-old student who had just been arrested for the fourth time.
First off, that's not normal. After the first time you should give yourself a firm slap on the wrist. After the second time you should reconstruct your list of priorities. After the third time you should probably just lock yourself away.
So the last three offenses had to do with drunk driving, swerving, etc. Somewhat normal things. Her first offense, however, was for killing 7 puppies and leaving them in a box (with her address on it) behind a gas station.
WHO THE HELL KILLS PUPPIES!?
Like of all things people want to do to puppies (cuddle, kiss, walk, name) you chose to KILL them? Pretty sure that's a guaranteed ticket to hell. Pretty sure she'll be offered an executive position in hell.
Here's the article.
First off, that's not normal. After the first time you should give yourself a firm slap on the wrist. After the second time you should reconstruct your list of priorities. After the third time you should probably just lock yourself away.
So the last three offenses had to do with drunk driving, swerving, etc. Somewhat normal things. Her first offense, however, was for killing 7 puppies and leaving them in a box (with her address on it) behind a gas station.
WHO THE HELL KILLS PUPPIES!?
Like of all things people want to do to puppies (cuddle, kiss, walk, name) you chose to KILL them? Pretty sure that's a guaranteed ticket to hell. Pretty sure she'll be offered an executive position in hell.
Here's the article.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Break it down
In the midst of recruitment I have caught a cold and am in serious need of a dose of testosterone. Needlesstosay, I haven't had much time to post. That being said, I found this awesome video of the girl from Step Up and all the Missy Elliot videos dancing. Pretty sure this is what I looked like that time I decided to quit my state championship volleyball team and take up hip hop dance with middle schoolers.
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