Sexy and You'll Know It

If you follow me on Twitter, you probably know that the “Twilight Saga Breaking Dawn Part 1” soundtrack is stuck in my car’s CD player. I could say that my wife put it in there on the way to the store or that my cousin requested we play it on our way to the theater for Part 2’s opening night, but the truth is that I put it in there. I chose to listen to that sweet dark alternative mix on my way to work. I’ve come to terms with who I am. I like the music (but I don’t think I’m quite ready to take it anywhere to get fixed). Besides, Christina Perri is kind of hot… and at least I don’t listen to Twilight music while working out or running on a treadmill. Then again...

Next month, my workplace will hold its third weight loss competition:  Choose 2 Lose. It’s a program/contest that emphasizes choices. You can either choose to eat five pounds of candy… or you can choose to eat a salad instead. You can choose to watch all three Lord of the Rings films back to back to back, or you can get up and get active. The choice is yours. You are in control of what you do and ultimately decide whether or not you will choose to lose.

I’ve helped organize this competition for the last three years (while also participating) and it’s a whole lot of fun. People get into teams, create awesome posters and encourage each other along the way. Last year, I wanted to try to get my abs visible again. I got approval to use the Fitness Suite at work and went a few times for only a few weeks. I simply lost my motivation. I somehow managed to lose three pounds, but my abs remained hidden behind a thin layer of blubber.

This time around, I’m going to make myself more accountable for my choices:  I’m going to blog about my journey. I will post photos of myself for all to see. I will share my challenges, successes and failures with everyone… including many of my coworkers. I’m really going to put myself out there like never before.

Sure, I could go through the competition and share photos afterwards, but I feel that sharing my journey as I navigate it myself is the only way to stay on track. I just hope everyone at work is ready to see my beach body.

Look for the new blog coming soon!

I Know Sports

Actually, I don’t know sports. I don’t know anything about sports. Ever since I was a kid, I would awkwardly stand around and listen to my classmates on the playground talk about their Starting Lineup collections and their predictions for the upcoming Steelers season. I never had any idea who or what they were talking about. And when it came time to play football, I couldn’t make sense of a “first down” and the scoring was beyond me.

Today, I still don’t know what a “first down” means. And I still don’t know anything about the players (other than they’re grossly overpaid). But since I’m a man and I sometimes wear T-shirts promoting my local sports teams, a lot of people assume I know sports.

I hear things like:

“Whatcha think about Polamalu’s chances at MVP this year?”

“What are your picks for the playoffs?”

“What are your thoughts on the Giant’s defense this year?”

“Did you catch the game?”

When I’m faced with questions like these, I try to provide the vaguest of answers. I’m able to retain my man status with answers like:

“It’s still anyone’s game!”

“Only time will tell.”

“I think they have a good/solid chance.”

“They could go all the way.”

“You’re right. That sure was a decent game.”

I do know a few things though. I’m not completely clueless. I heard something about Zoltan… I think it’s related to the Pirates. I really don’t know.

Toys R Me

There are seven toys in my house that recite the alphabet. Two of which are stuffed dogs. We have several things that play music and even more things that make noise. Dolls. Giraffes. Crunchy things. They’re all in the living room… and the dining room… and the bathroom.

Earlier this evening, I stood in the middle of the living room and looked around at all the different toys spread across the floor and thought… AWESOME!

I’ve always liked toys. When I was younger, I too had a lot of them. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ruled the hallway formerly occupied by the Ghostbusters.  Darkwing Duck and Batman solved crimes. It was always The Penguin.

When I see the toys around my house today, it reminds me of all the fun I had as a kid. While many parents may complain about the abundance of toys, I get excited. You should see how fast I can spin the top now. It’s just a blur. I mean I can get it spinning really, really fast! And the best part is seeing that little face look up at me and smile.

I’m so thankful for my little playmate. 

Diet and Exercise Tips

There are a lot of health and fitness bloggers out there. These “champions of wellness” post regularly about their healthy eating habits, races they’ve signed up for and tips on how YOU can be your healthiest.

I think it’s quite obvious that I don’t fall into this category of blogger. Heck, I don’t even post regularly. But I do know a thing or two when it comes to bad health and fitness decisions. I realized this tonight when I decided to shove dinner in my face and immediately exercise… and exercise hard… I’m talkin’ zero to eighty stuff.

So without further ado, I present…

How to Eat Like Shit and Exercise Until You Nearly Die (7 Tips)

Tip #1 Eat it All

If your goal is to get really nauseated, eat the heaviest food you can find. I chose to eat a week old cheeseburger (extra thick) with a bunch of pasta and several turkey meatballs. I washed it all down with an ice cold glass of cherry cola. Bon appetit!

Tip #2 Get Pumped

If it’s a nice day, you want to own it. So get outside now! (NOTE: It’s important that you do NOT wait for your food to digest and do NOT drink any water.) I decided to ride my bicycle. And since I only use it twice a year (on average), I wasted no time pumping the tires (my warm up) and zooming out of the garage. Whatever type of exercise you decide to do, make sure NOT to bring any water with you.

Tip #3 Develop a False Sense of Invulnerability

It’s time to prove to yourself and the neighborhood that you can do the same things you could do when you were 15. Listen to that voice in the back of your head saying “Hey, you’re BETTER now than you were at 15.” Twice the age, twice the endurance, right? I decided to bike uphill. The biggest, longest hill I’ve ever seen.

Tip #4 Don’t Give Up!

Halfway up the hill, every vein in my body started throbbing. My arteries seem to quiver. I forgot how to breathe. My head started pounding and I think my hearing started to go. “Don’t give up!” said the voice. As I pedaled onward and upward, the voice sounded more like “Drrn’t girb up!” That’s when I decided to hop off the bike and walk it uphill.

Tip #5 Where am I Going?

The journey is the destination. (Whoa. That’s a real health/fitness blogger statement right there.)

Tip #6 Prepare to Die in an Old Woman’s Garden

I wasn’t sure where I was going and where I would end up. I just kept moving. You may experience this on your journey. Unless you died after Tip #4.

Tip #7 Get Home Now

Father Time has made you into an out-of-shape dope. Go home and read some posts from healthy bloggers with the intention of getting inspired. (NOTE: Doing this will likely make you feel worse about yourself. Proceed with caution.)

Parking Island in the Sun

My wife and I don’t get to visit too many restaurants these days (which is good for our wallets as well as our waistlines), but once in a while, someone will volunteer to watch Chloe and give us a night to ourselves. We’ve only had a handful of nights out since late August of 2011, so when we get a chance to party it up, we do it well. We’ll both order an adult beverage and maybe share a dessert. We’ll take a walk and just enjoy some alone time without worrying about binkies, diapers and puréed peas.

We had such a night on Saturday, May 19. After seeing the Blue Man Group, we drove out to the Robinson area for a feast at Bahama Breeze, one of our favorite places. Now, if you’re anticipating a negative review here, I am sorry to disappoint you. In fact, the food was great… maybe even too great. I just wanted to eat and drink all that I could. Perhaps it was my body saying, “Dude, seriously, how often does this happen? Live it up! Eat! Drink! Cram all you can into this dinner!”

And so I listened to my inner glutton and stuffed my face with whatever was in front of me (including some of my wife’s dinner). I had a few plantains smothered with chicken, cheese and peppers. I downed two Blue Moons (the big ones). I shoved what seemed like pounds of bowtie pasta and salmon and bread and more fish and key lime pie into my face. About halfway through it all, my stomach had expanded so far that my belt began digging into my gut and limiting my intake. But when there’s no belt, there’s no problem (if you know what I mean).

But even with the belt gone, I was in trouble. It soon occurred to me that my body was no longer accustomed to restaurant food and so the oils and sauces from my meal were creating a sort of poison that overtook my body.

When it came time to leave, I told Laura that I would meet her outside. I had to freshen up. So I went to the restroom, looked in the mirror and saw my Dad:  a tired, waddling man with a fat gut. “Who am I?” I wondered.

I left the bathroom and then the restaurant. And that’s when it hit me. The heat was so intense that the oils and sauces inside of me started to boil. And on top of it all, Laura was pulling up to the curb and it was time to take a car ride.

“I don’t feel so good.” I told her.

“You shouldn’t have eaten so much.”

“Uhhh.”

“You have to put on your seatbelt.”

We drove maybe 100 feet.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said.

“Want to go on the roller coaster?” she asked. (She is mean.)

“No. Don’t do it, Laura.”

We were on our way to meet her family who happened to also be in Robinson, but about five shopping plazas away. I really felt like I was going to puke. My breathing turned into subtle wheezing as I attempted a whole “mind over matter” thing. Once we reached the other side of Robinson, I told Laura to stop the car because I just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I just can’t stop in the middle of the road,” she said.

“We’re in a parking lot. Just park the car!”

“Where?”

“In one of the 200 empty spaces surrounding us!”

Finally, she parked the car and I grabbed my phone and got out. She drove off in search of her family while I took the nearest seat – a curb along a parking island in the sun (not at all related to Weezer). But, of course, the sun was intensifying the bubbling sauces churning within my stomach. I noticed more shade on the other side of the curb, but to walk around the island would surely do me in. So I simply walked through the bushes that made up the perimeter of the island.

Turned out there was an oasis in the middle of the parking island complete with two benches, some garbage cans and a ground full of mulch… it was truly a parking lot paradise. I took a seat on the nearest bench and tried to just calm down and gather myself. I didn’t want to puke in the mulch, but the smell wafting over from Five Guys took the situation into the red zone.

I had just about enough of the general discomfort, so I turned to my left and yakked up some dinner right there on the mulch. I didn’t even have the decency to waddle over to the trash can.

This experience was significant for two reasons:

1) I hit a new low. This was the first time I ever threw up from overeating.

2) I just can’t party like I used to.

I’m a Dad, and I should learn my limits so that I’m able to enjoy these rare nights out with my wife instead of throwing up alone in a parking lot outside of Wal*Mart.

Triple A

I finally have a manageable routine:

Wake up around 7:00 AM to Chloe making cute baby noises.
Pick her up, take her upstairs and change her.
Bring her downstairs for Laura to feed her.
Go to work.
Wait eight hours to go home.
Go home.
Eat dinner.
Do various things.
Go to bed.

That’s my typical weekday. But once in awhile, life throws you a wicked curveball that you don’t expect. My curveball came in the form of a dead car battery after my eight hour wait to go home. Luckily, my mother-in-law and I work for the same organization, and since she has AAA, I went back into the building to cry ask for help.

She called AAA for me and they said it would be at least an hour before someone would even call me. (What was I to expect for Friday at 5:00 PM?) So since the weather was decent, I took a walk around the 26 acre campus.

When I reached the back of the campus, I saw a AAA flatbed in the distance, trying to find Leon the Neon. I turned my walk into a brisk Mt. Lebanon mom power walk to make sure these guys didn’t miss me.

“Who are you here for?” I asked. The guy in the passenger seat was a total “dude” and gave me the right name.
“The car’s behind that building,” I said, pointing ahead.
“Get on the truck and we’ll go.” he said.
“Like, stand on the runner here?”
“Yeah, just hang on.”
So I stood on the side of the AAA truck as it went up the road to service my auto. I felt like a firefighter!

We got to my car, popped the hood and tried to start it.
“I think it’s the battery,” I told them.
“I think it’s the starter,” said the driver. “You wouldn’t have any interior lights if it was the battery.” So I let it go, trusting his expertise.

The driver was clearly training the passenger. “Where’s the starter?” he asked the trainee. The trainee pointed in one direction and the driver pointed in another. “Hmmm,” I thought.

So they went over to their truck and brought over something that looked like a cross between a crowbar and an elevator cable. They jammed it between some things under the hood, applied some force and told me to start it. No success.

They ended up towing my car to the garage down the street, but the garage folks couldn’t even look at it until Monday. We placed my keys into an envelope for the garage’s drop box. All of my information was written on the envelope and the guys wrote ‘starter?’ in the comments section.

Two days later, the garage folks call to tell me I just needed a new battery. And so I had them install the friggin’ battery.

So what’s the moral of this story? Tell the AAA guys to jump your battery so you can take your car to Advance Auto Parts and save $30 on unnecessary labor costs.

Annoying And Aggravating

At least I got to hang off the side of a flatbed. That was fun.

You Got a Nose!

Chloe is seven weeks old today. These were seven long weeks that went by very quickly (if that makes any sense).

She’s now starting to smile and make girlish cooing noises that make our hearts melt. I find myself saying cute but obvious things to her like “You got a nose!” and “Who’s a baby?” hoping she’ll let out something close to a girlish laugh. She’s tons of fun, even when we’re just watching her sleep, which can be up to 6 straight hours. Goodbye, twitching eyes!

One thing I’m noticing is her developing addiction to her pacifier (or “binkers” as I like to call it). She seems to need it in her mouth all the time, and the second it drops from her lips, she bursts into screams which shoot through our eardrums. Of course, the only solution is to shove it back in her face. Binkers is going to be a hard habit to break someday.