I just received my new Michael Thurmond Six-Week Body Makeover program today and I am super-duper, ultra-excited!

After the infamous shower scene from a few nights ago, a scene that was more horrifying than Hitchcock's Psycho, I am in need of some confidence boosting, so it couldn't have arrived at a better time.

I will be doing the Quick Start program as soon as I finish blah-blah-blahging. :)

Based on my past records of diet and exercise endurance, I'll be able to tell you exactly when during the six weeks I'll lose interest and bail on the program. ;D Just kidding!

I've got about that amount of time to get some of this weight off so I can regain a girlish figure in time for the big Steve and Peekay event. Since I will be the Official Ring Procurer at the wedding, I have somewhat of an image to maintain, so I've got to work a miracle. Miracles seem to be what Michael Thurmond specializes in, thank goodness!

If you watch Extreme Makeover, you'll see him. He's the personal trainer who helps the madeover people work their newly liposuctioned bodies into a semblance of muscled fitness before they appear before their family and friends. I actually thought it was a bit of a joke, until I saw the episode where he took on the three overweight people who needed to lose weight (30-lbs each in 5 weeks) before they could have their surgeries. Damned if they didn't do it, too!

I was so inspired I hunted him down on the internet and bought this program. I too, can look good again naked if I sculpt my body thin by eating the foods I need for my body type ... and if I stay out of the bright light of naked day! ;D

If I am successful, I'll post my before/after measurements (arms, chest, hips, waist, thighs) but until that time, no one but me will know those numbers ... they'll be kept a more secure secret than the combination to the vaults at Ft. Knox. :)

I have an update to my previous post:

At around 11am, the day of Peekay's party, I couldn't take it anymore; I had to tell someone about my adventures the night before; I decided sister dearest was the one I should tell my story to (the censored version, of course).

She laughed and said "You're a maniac."

We then exchanged a few references about the Friends episode where Rachel was "walking around in her apartment. Naked" which, while funny, wasn't enough to actually give me release for the guffaws, so I decided, perhaps I would mention it to bawdy Cousin Loretta who (although a counterpart of an age with Mumsie) is not my mother, and who could be counted on to laugh uproariously.

I was not disappointed. She laughed so hard that her wine glass sloshed its contents on my feet. :D

However, that was not all.

Cousin Loretta, (of an age with my mother) proceeded to share a few intimate details of her encounters with her husband, involving wine, bubbles and their jacuzzi tub.

It seems that they have an active (and creative) sex life, but they are even more stringent about their clean fun than me:

Loretta likes to begin things in the jacuzzi tub, then take a short break while she cleans the shower, hoses off the bubbles and does a quickie cleaning of the entire surface, before adjourning to the bedroom to continue the regularly scheduled program that had been temporarily pre-empted.

On one night in particular, Loretta's husband decided to be a gentleman and help with the bubble hosing (perhaps hoping to do a little more gratuitous rubbing of a bubble-covered surface that was a little warmer and softer than the tiled wall) when, much to his (and Loretta's) dismay, he too, learned the laws of gravity when he did a cartwheel out of the bathtub.

The evening's entertainment had to be put on hold after this because he required aid to rise to his feet and felt, under the cirumstances, that nothing else was going to rise that night...

I was hysterical, face bright red from muffled shrieks of laughter.

She continued on from there with unfortunate story #2:

On a romantic cruise with her husband, (and after a romantic interlude with said husband) cousin Loretta left the cabin to go up on deck and her husband turned on the shower to let the water heat up before getting in.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Loretta realized she had left her sunblock, as well as her room key, in the room. She pounded on the door, hoping to catch her husband before he got into the shower. Unfortunately, she did not; he had already entered the shower. However, he heard the pounding, figured it was her and leaned out to yell to her, when suddenly he found himself, once again, testing the laws of gravity as he surfed out of the shower face first.

I didn't get to hear the rest of the story because at this point we were both overcome (could it have been the punch? That rosy pink concoction can be deadly) and others came into the room, drawn by the sounds of our hilarity. Of course, neither of us was willing to tell what we were laughing about, so we separated (sometimes there is no safety in numbers, especially when a glance at someone will make you spit out your wine and bubbles go up your nose as you snort in a laugh) until the party was over.

Before the end of the night (after several glasses of wine and punch), I told Peekay why I was laughing (she asked me several times and since she was Princess for the day, what she asked for she was supposed to get. In this case, she got a little more than she bargained for.)

I'm sure her bridal shower will be very memorable. I know I will always remember it. I spent most of the day standing because my hiney was too sore to sit. :D

Did you ever have a story that was so funny you didn't think you'd be able to sleep if you couldn't tell someone? Well, that's me, right now! I cannot sleep because I'm giggling so hard, and everyone is sleeping so I'm going to have to tell it to the Blahg ... :)

Tonight I had a hot date and a great time was had by both of us. A really, REALLY great time. ;D

To spare you a few blushes I'll keep most of the details to myself, but just so you understand, on this date clothes were shed. All of them. ;D (Before you think it, no, I'm not a slut! This is a frequent date of mine, although not frequent enough because he doesn't live close by ... because of the distance, I can't call him a "boyfriend" so we shall just call him my "man-date" ... Get it? heh-heh-heh! Sorry, I'll try to leave out the pun-ishments I'm capable of inflicting... ;)

So, I'm assuming you have the idea now, right? No?

Alright, I'll be blunt so I don't lose anyone:

We had sex. GREAT sex. The kind where you say "damn, that was so good, I think we should try that again to see if we can duplicate it! Or better yet, duplicate it AND add a little variety so it'll be even better!" (And in case you've never had that kind of great sex, let me assure you, first of all that it is the BEST kind, and secondly, that I feel very sorry for you ... why are you wasting your time on mediocre sex?)

*** Editor's Note: to make this story more censor-friendly the extremely lurid details are going to be edited out, except for the really relevant ones:

We decided that perhaps a shower would be a nice idea (see the "variety" comment above) so to the bathroom we went for a little wild wetness.

This out of town man of mine was staying in a hotel. Because I live at home with my parents, and since they think I am 12 (and still a virgin) it is necessary for me to have the occasional hotel rendezvous when he comes into town, because he sure as heck can't stay with me. I don't mind, I actually enjoy it. it's fun to go to a hotel, sort of like a mini-vacation. However, I am not always a big fan of the hotel bathrooms ... Don't you think the people who build hotels should build them big enough for two occupants? For those of us that appreciate good, clean fun? :)

Well, evidently this hotel doesn't believe in that kind of hanky-panky because this was definitely a one-person shower. Actually the bathroom itself was ridiculous! The shower was really narrow, but the overall bathroom space was enormous. And empty. There was this big huge space for a normal-sized commode and this puny little shower, the rest of the space was all open floor. You could park a car in that bathroom, it was so big. So what I don't understand is why they don't utilize the extra space to make a more expansive shower/bathtub? I would be perfectly willing to pay a bit more for a room with a garden tub, or shower built for two. One with a bench would be really nice, too ... but I digress ... it happens so easily for me ... :)

We got into the shower and got touchy-feely with the bar of soap, doing a little strategic soaping as we adjusted to the water temperature ... Before long, things got pretty hot (and I don't mean just the temperature of the water) and the shower suddenly seemed smaller than ever, so I scooted the shower curtain back just a bit (it was a hotel, do I need to be concerned if the water runs onto the tiles?) to allow for more room, because there's nothing like the dampening feel of a wet vinyl shower curtain plastered to your back while someone is CENSORED and CENSORED on your CENSORED ... don't you agree? ;D

Just when things were getting really interesting, (his hands had begun CENSORED my CENSORED) I discovered one of the most important laws of physics.

Do you know the precise angle at which gravity takes over when you lean too far backwards while standing in a slippery, soapy bathtub taking a shower?

I do.

As I leaned backwards to allow him better access to my CENSORED, my feet slid out from under me and I felt myself doing this slow motion reverse swan dive. I remember grabbing for him and feeling my hands slip right through his because of all of that lathering we'd been doing.

No hope for it, I was going down.

With a thunderous S M A C K ! my bottom connected with the cold, hard, sopping-wet tiled floor and then, as if this wasn't bad enough, I BOUNCED!

The bounce threw me backwards, feet in the air, feeling breezes in places that usually don't get breezed, and landing spread-eagled on the floor. Just like a bug that's been flipped over onto its back ... except I was naked.

For a second I was stunned and the wind was knocked out of me; then my breath came back, just in time to leave me again in whooping, gasping shouts of laughter. He came tumbling out of the shower, concern written all over his face as he said "HOLY SHIT! Are you alright? Answer me!"

I couldn't say anything because I was laughing too hard. He grasped both of my hands and heaved me to my feet, running anxious hands over my derriere, patting me all over repeating "Are you okay? JESUS! You scared the hell out of me!" I was still wheezing with laughter, but I finally managed to say: "Where is the camera when you need it? I could have just won $100,000 for that on America's Funniest Home Videos ... although, I guess it would have to be one for the Naughty File..."

He hugged me and shook me, laughing uproariously. Both of us were still giggling like idiots as we staggered back into the shower. (Yes, I got back in; I'm a glutton for punishment. Besides, he was going to soap my back and derriere to warm them up again; after that icy cold floor, I needed a little TLC. ) He wasn't taking any chances with my balance this time ... he held onto me like I was his rickety grandma and made sure I got into the shower without mishap. I looked for the soap, but couldn't find it so I cautiously peeked out of the shower curtain to see if it was on the other side.

Unfortunately, it seems that when I left the shower so precipitously, I took the soap with me. And I guess I must have bounced on it too, because it was pulverized ... little teensy pieces of soap shards covered the floor like low-budget movie snowflakes, which started me giggling all over again.

I'm not going to share any other details of my evening (those cross over the Naughty File line borderline into the down and dirty file) but I will tell you this:

As I drove home I could barely see because I was teary-eyed from giggling all the way home (didn't one of the piggies do that? "this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none. This little piggy cried 'wheee-wheee-wheee ...")

Luckily, I am able to laugh at myself; otherwise, I'd be a born again virgin because, as if I am not sensitive enough about my body, (like 98% of all other women in the world) now I have this 'bug on its back' image running through my head.

It took me forever before I was comfortable enough to (okay, it was courage, not comfort) expose all of my perceived flaws to the scrutiny of glaring light in front of someone I really liked, and now I'll probably never be able to take off even my socks in front of him again, thanks to the gyrations of this evening. :D

(Okay, so I'm exaggerating---I'll definitely show him my toes again, because, after all my toes are one of my favorite features, can't hide those babies, they're much too cute, especially when painted with my favorite pink OPI color: "Up The Amazon Without a Paddle.")

So, why am I sitting here now at such an hour, composing this to the Blahg?

Because I am going to burst if I don't tell someone! I came home tonight, on the eve of the big Peekay shower, and everyone is already in bed. It's almost 4am and I have to be up in less than 3 hours. My sister is home for the weekend and we're bunking together (because she's younger than me, she is only 10, in the eyes of the parental unit. Perhaps I should be glad I'm the older sister? At least I'm 12.)

Sister is over there, snoring gently and I'm over here at the computer, giggling uncontrollably, muffling the sound against my arm. I'm still shaking all over with repressed laughter and I know that I'm going to wake her (never a good idea, she's grumpy when wakened suddenly) if I let out the guffaws that are building.

I've been trying to be silent, even as I'm wracked with giggles as the mental image of myself replays, interspersed with the look of horror on his face, horror which I hope was caused by the thought of me injuring myself, not the leg-spread, flailing arm backwards swan dive I did as I exited the shower...

OH, DAMN! :D

Is it appropriate to share a story like this with Peekay on her big pink day of showerdom? I don't think so, but I might have to because I have to let this out before I implode! HEEEEHEEEEEEHEEEEEEE!

I just got off the phone with Steve-o. He and Dad arrived in Vegas Thursday, in preparation for their weekend o'fun, while the women had the bridal shower at the old Virginny homestead. They threw their bags in the room and headed out to check out the Vegas nightlife. From what Steve-o said, they had a great time last night, cruising the strip in their big old luxurious rental Buick (looking like a couple of Vegas pimps, is my guess.)

They didn't hit any of the naked, mud-wrestling stripper shows ... they are saving that for tonight or tomorrow night. ;) Instead, they cruised the strip, Dad driving so Steve could get some great pictures of the incomparable strip at night. Then they went back to the hotel for a good night's sleep so they could be up at dawn, ready to "go-go-go!" (Dad's mantra in life ;)

Steve was impressed by his room because it had a huge mirror over his bed. He had planned to go to bed fairly early so he could admire himself in the mirror before falling asleep, which he did.

At 2:00am (Vegas time) he was awakened by a "drunk Chinese guy" pounding on
the door.

After several minutes of pounding, he finally went away.

So he could find a phone, evidently, because then he starting calling. Steve was quite perturbed about this until I mentioned that it must have been the stripper we sent ...

This is the story of how Sharondarella broke her mother's bed:

(We will start off saying that you are NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, to break the unwritten rules of blahgdom and tell this story to Sharondarella's parents, who live happily, blissfully unaware of Sharondarella's foray into blahgging ... she will be grounded for life if this story becomes parental knowledge.)

12:00am --- Alarm clock in guest room shrills its never-ending wakeup call, the call that no one asked for and no one can shut off because the clock is demonically possessed.

12:01am --- Sharondarella yanks the cord out of the wall, after jerking the bed headboard away from the wall so she can reach the plug. The bed shudders slightly, but Sharondarella figures it is trembling in fear, and to notice fear in another would be rude so she turns and walks out of the room, her work done.

8:00am --- Sharondarella is showering, when it occurs to her that perhaps that shuddering of the bed was caused by the slats coming unhooked from the headboard. Since an elderly cousin will be sleeping in that bed over the upcoming weekend perhaps it should be checked before the elderly occupant finds out the hard way that the bed is loosely attached.

8:14am --- Sharondarella traipses blithely into the guest room and twitches the dust ruffle aside so she can look at the bed frame. A huge chunk of wood falls off onto the floor, causing her to flee in terror.

8:20am --- regaining her courage, (somewhat) Sharondarella creeps back into the guestroom and meanders over to the bed. She gingerly touches the headboard and with a resounding C R A S H the upper right corner of the bed hit the floor, listing drunkenly to one side.

Sharondarella leapt from the room and scrambled back into her own bedroom. Seconds passed like years. No sound from Mommy in the bedroom, no noise from Daddy in the study. She crept out into the hall and cautiously walked over to Daddy’s study saying casually: “did you hear that noise? I think the guest room bed just fell.”

“Okay” says Daddy, completed wrapped up in his computer perusing. “I’ll check it in a minute.”

”I think it broke…” says Sharondarella, innocently hoping her guilt was not apparent.

8:24am --- Daddy examines the bed. Determines it is truly broken. He comes into Sharondarella’s room and inquires: “were you and Cody jumping on that bed?”

“Daddy! What a thing to say!” After a second or two of contemplation, Sharondarella says “I cannot tell a lie. I did not break that bed. It just fell. All by itself. With absolutely no help."

Daddy leaves and goes downstairs.

8:26am --- Sharondarella creeps back into the guestroom again to hide the evidence of her crime. If Mommy saw the clock was unplugged she would know that Sharondarella had something to do with the destruction of that bed. The clock had to be plugged back in and Sharondarella had to do it in Stealth Mode.

Unfortunately, in order to plug the clock back in she needed to move the headboard again. The headboard groaned and shrieked, but Sharondarella ignored its cries of agony, gritting her teeth against the entreaties of the bed. Fumbling and stumbling, she managed to plug the clock back in, leaving it blinking groggily, a mute testimony to her guilt, while she dashed from the room.

9:01am --- giggling like an idiot, braying like a donkey, Sharondarella presents her story to a coworker, realizing as she recounts the morning's adventure that her life is not as she had always thought: Living at home with one's parents when one is an adult (who has previously lived on one's own as an adult) is tantamount to reliving your adolescence. Sharondarella is fond of saying "I have to call my parents. I am only twelve, you know. My parents expect me to check in."

Today she found out that she is NOT twelve ... she is actually only six.

I have found a new grooming salon!
Let’s all give a “HOORAY FOR WAGGIN’ TAILS!”

I scheduled an appointment because I wanted to try a new place, but they wouldn’t do my hair so I had to send my dog. ;p The other places I had taken him proved highly unsatisfactory ... oh, hell, let’s just spell it out … both of the other places SUCKED.

The Dog Collar of McLean: They are anti-dogite and discriminate against shelties.

The last time I went there, Cody wasn’t quite finished. The Dog Collar woman who grooms him is very snooty and doesn’t like shelties, so she starts a discussion of how ugly shelties are when they’re puppies, and then they grow up to look unkempt. Not sure how you’d feel about that, but I tend to be a bit defensive about my dog, and just KNOW he’s the cutest dog EVER! Soooo, yes, I took offense. I didn’t say anything, but perhaps my silence was enough of a clue. The other groomers seemed to catch on, the other customers got it ... everyone knew this was unacceptable, except the idiotic woman grooming my dog.

Even though she offended me with her stupidity, the main thing I hold against her is that she never once gave Cody a bandana when he was finished. Cody is the kind of dog who can carry off a bandana … which must be why she didn’t give him one, instead lavishly dispensing them to smug poodles, ugly Labradors, hairy Old English Sheepdogs, and even a Great Dane.

As if we hadn’t suffered enough humiliation from the continuing lack of a bandana, I actually called back to schedule Cody for a follow-up appointment when he was due to be groomed again. Unfortunately, the spiteful sheltie-hating groomer just couldn’t seem to find any room for Cody. And none of the other groomers had "appointmentability", either. I gather they have some sort of policy like "that's MY client, hand's off" that doesn't allow other groomers to work on your dog. We took the hint and departed … finding ourselves facing horrible dog groomer #2 ...

Fido Fantastic: Where you bring in a decent-looking, if a bit hairy, dog and return to find that the whacko woman who works there SCALPED your dog.

The first and last time she had my dog in her clutches, she shaved his head. I have a beautiful dog (picture pint-sized Lassie and you’ve got the idea) ... at least, he’s normally gorgeous … When this woman was finished his head looked like a schnauzer. She’d cut off all of his feathery hairs, leaving him with stubble all over his head and ears so sharp he could cut you with them.

Worst of all, she SMOKED all over him!

$50 bucks down the drain. He smelled so bad when he came home I needed to make him go outside for a few hours to air out. Unfortunately, while he was outside all of the neighbors saw him and laughed. Neighborhood kids screamed, babies burst into tears, other dogs tried to attack him. Basically he was butt-ugly and he knew it. He skulked around with his head down and wouldn’t go outside, except after dark, until his hair grew back. Luckily, he’s a fast grower of hair (like his owner)

After these experiences, perhaps you can see why I’d be a bit leery?

Unfortunately, he was getting very bedraggled and unkempt, so, I was forced to take him to a new grooming salon to see what could be done with him.

Waggin’ Tails is located above a vet hospital in Tysons, so I went in and stopped at the front desk where the receptionist was sitting. She took all of my information and I prepared to hand over my dog. Instead, she asked if I'd like to see the grooming area. Why, yes, I most certainly would! Cody and I trooped through a swinging door (think "western saloon" and you'll have the look) and headed upstairs. (Cody perked up tremendously as we left the vet smells behind, although he started to look hunted as we got close to the other smell … wet dog.)

We went through another door and entered the wild west. :)

The room was all light-colored hard wood floors and white walls. There were several more of the swinging doors, each marked with a wood-burned sign stating what it was for. Cody and I went into the "Dirty Dog Saloon” where I was instructed to tie him to a hitching post (actually, he went into a grooming crate, but I like my analogy better) and then I got to poke around a bit before I wore out my welcome.

I went back at 5:00 to pick him up and he was still being worked on by the sweet Sara, who was preparing him for the ultra-talented Hayley who was going to do his shaping clip; I sat down in the waiting room with a book, after telling Sara not to rush the process.

Shortly after this, I received a frantic summons to “come upstairs and look at the lump on Cody’s anus.”

Aren’t these the words that every woman longs to hear?

Did you know that even if your dog is a regular pooping machine, he can still be holding back? It’s true. The lump on the anus turned out to mean that Cody needed to express himself … anally. In a most powerful way.

Luckily I didn’t have to be there for that.

To finish up this long tail ... Cody came out of this experience looking beyoooootiful! He had lost tons of weight on the doggy boot camp program I’ve had him on, but he had so much hair he didn’t look like he’d lost anything. He now looks 20 pounds lighter (definitely a place I need to go … shed some hair, lose 20 pounds) and best of all ... he got a St. Patrick's Day bandana and a bow!

If I had a tail it’d be a WAGGIN' TAIL! :D

February 24th --- the date of the last officially posted blahg.

I am a bad, bad girl.

I need an excuse, don't I?

My life has been busy, schedule hectic, no time for play ...

Okay, excuses just don’t work. I've been shamefully neglectful of my blahg, and I need to accept that like a big girl.

In my defense (yup, still trying to find an excuse) I HAVE been writing, just not posting what I've written to my blahg.

I mean, do you really want to read about my day to day grind? Or the resume rewriting, job contemplations, moving agonizations and life organization necessary for relocation? Of COURSE you do! That’s what puts the blah in blahg!

That said, fasten your seatbelts for the slowest ride of your life, while I catch you up with what’s been going on with moi’ for the past few weeks … :)

California Dreaming ... In the tradition of Cheech and Chong:

State Sen. John Vasconcellos, among four lawmakers to propose the idea on
Monday, said the Internet, cellular phones, multichannel television and a diverse society makes today's teens better informed than their predecessors.

Yes, better informed about chat rooms and IM's, MTV, Reality Shows and Music ... NOT POLITICS. Most kids don't even pay attention to politics until they hit college ... or more likely, once they graduate college and become members of the rent/mortgage paying workforce. This is absolutely ASININE.

"If we could vote, politicians would see us as votes, not just kids, and
they would take our issues seriously," said Robert Reynolds, a student at
Berkeley High School.

"and then those mean old politicians would understand why it was wrong to close down Napster, and why we won't wear uniforms to school, and why our cafeterias need to serve McDonald's instead of the slop we get now. And while we're at it, let's legalize drugs and eliminate the drinking and smoking age limits!"

If I ever needed a reason why I didn't want to live in California, this would do it.