Gansta Pants, Part 3

You wonder if it could be possible that I would trip for a 3rd time today.... I say, POSSIBLE.

I now just want to give you my pants. Any takers?

Gansta Pants, Part 2

I TRIPPED AGAIN. This time, in front of many co-workers. Yes, they laughed at me. I'm going to ebay these bad boys.

I'm not so gansta after all.

Gansta Pants

I JUST TRIPPED AGAIN (refer to Cool as a Cucumber). I'm bout ready to throw out my gansta pants.

Get over it

I really miss the days when my parents told me what to do. Sure, I hated not being able to have complete autonomy over my life, but then the harsh reality of life set in, and I just want to run crying to my parents.

That’s right, I’m a baby. Well, it’s time to get over it. My 401k package came in today. In 5 days, I’m eligible to begin participating. What do I do? Sure, I can seek advice, but it’s time to grow up. Make my decisions and live with the consequences: good or bad.

Farewell to my childhood.
*faint*

Snack Machines

Note: Bare with me… this hopefully goes a bit deeper than the topic of food.

I usually bring my lunch to work, and at around the noon hour, I go into the break room to warm it up. Lucky for us, we have a couple vending machines in the break room: a coke machine and a snack machine. While I wait for my food to heat up, I almost always take a step over to the snack machine to see what is available. (Note: I always think it’s better to get Cheetos or Animal Crackers b/c you get the most quantity for the over priced bag).

Anyhow, as I search for what my option could be, should I decide to partake in a little snack, I think to myself… “Look at all these wonderful unhealthy snacks. Your body doesn’t need them, but boy would some of these taste good.” Right about then, the microwave dings, I walk away from the snack machine, and enjoy my lunch.

It occurred to me this afternoon while I starred at my reflection through the vending machine how easily tempted I am. Everyday I’m faced with temptations. It’s just a matter of saying no or choosing a different path. Being *lazy is right on up at the top of my list. (Yes, I’m almost always wanting to be lazy, and I usually give into being lazy).

If only it were that easy. If only temptations were kept neatly stacked in rows, AND the only way to get to one was to insert 50 cents. The hope is I would never pay to give in to a temptation, but as imperfect as I am, knows what I’m capable of.

Unfortunately, temptations (big or small and for all sorts of different reasons) come at me in all directions. Sometimes obvious, sometimes not so obvious. But wouldn’t it be nice if they were packaged in a machine?

*Discipline:
n. Training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces moral or mental improvement.

That’s what I need… some discipline.

Not that I would be able to get rid of all the temptations, but I’d like to build specific character. Then maybe certain temptations wouldn’t be so hard to resist.

Defiant.

My parents woke up this morning at like who knows when to watch the news after Miss Rita hit. Our home and neighborhood seemed pretty untouched so my parents scurried right on out of Austin at about 8:30am.

They made it back home without having to fight all the crazy traffic that will occur shortly. Unfortunately, Governor Rick Perry has told everyone to "STAY PUT. IF YOUR EVACUATION PLACE IS SAFE, PLEASE STAY PUT. WE NEED TO REFILL ALL THE GAS STATIONS AND RESTOCK GOODS FOR THE TRAVEL HOME."

Don't tell my parents what to do! :D

Rita Rita Bo-bita Banana Fana Mo-Mita

Thank you to everyone who has called and inquired about me and my family. We're currently in Austin, TEXAS and are very comfortable. (Thank you to our hosts). As of today, it looks like Houston will no longer be on the dirty side of the Hurricane Rita, but we'll know more as the day progresses.

Be safe everyone.

Cool As a Cucumber

I realized early on in my undergrad career that I would be faced with the issue of wearing heals. I never really feared it because I thought, "After all, you're twenty-something, you can handle it." I believe it was around my birthday (in 2005) when my sister helped me pick out some pumps. Wanting to be somewhat fashionable, I got myself a pair of pointed toe heals (You know the ones I'm talking about... the pointy ones where you can't cram all your toes into).

One day to church I wore some wider leg pants. (Coach knows this story all too well). Unfortunately for me, I tripped not once, but twice that day. Fortunately, Coach was there to catch me the second time. The pant legs were just too gansta and with the pointed heel to match the pointed toe, I stomped on my pants.

When I first started working, I wore the same pants and some pumps. Yes, I tripped. I tripped so hard that I fell into the wall. (Thankfully, the wall caught me, and I wasn't sprawled out all over the floor). Fortunately for me, NO ONE was around to hear the loud thud.

Well, the day has come. Today, I wore the same pair of pants and the same pair of pumps. A co-worker and I just received an assignment. As we were walking back to our desks, I stomped on my pants again... causing me to trip. As my hands swung forward (b/c I am now very off balance) my co-worker noticed my awkward falling motion and stuck out his hand for me to grab. His response, "Whoa, I gotcha." I played it off, cool as a cucumber and continued on with my conversation.

*sigh* Why am I so clumsy and such an awkward girl? Haha. You just don't understand how hard I'm laughing at myself right now.

Happy 25

I’d like to take this moment and share a very joyous celebration which occurred tonight: the celebration of my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary! Although their real 25th anniversary was on March 1st, we weren’t able to celebrate until this past Sunday.

What makes a marriage last for so long? With divorces being handed out left and right, it seems like not many people take their “I do’s” so seriously anymore. Well, I could tell you the secret (or at least what I think the secret) is to my parents’ marriage but I’m afraid you might sell the formula… j/k.

All I can say is… I want what they have. Should I be blessed to have a husband, I want to have a *double portion of what they have. Happy 25 and many many more to come :D

*this may be used in the wrong context, but for those who know what double portion means, you know you want a double portion too!

Morning Conversations

Disclaimer: There is some profane language in this blog. It is used in a more definitional manner. Also, this was not written to make fun of my mom. As a matter of fact, I love having conversations with my mom... especially while we're on the road.

~The Scene~
As my mom and I were driving to work this morning, she noticed this coffee shop named "BADASS." I suppose she noticed it for the first time, so as she saw the sign, she gasped, "Annette, the word ass... isn't that a bad word? What does it mean that they put B - A - D - A - S - S? (Please do imagine an asian woman who speaks English pretty well with some fob when she gets riled up). Why would they name a place that curses?"

Me: (Chuckle to self) I try to find a way to explain to my mom the meaning. I then proceed with, "Well, yes.... When someone points at you and says you are such an A, they mean it in a bad way."

Mom interrupts: "Please just say the word. I know you don't want to, but it will help me better understand, especially if someone says that outloud. I will know what they are talking about."

Me: Again, I smile and continue, "However, if someone should point at you and say you are such a badass... that generally means that you are really awesome."

Mom: Oh, I see. That's so weird. So I guess this coffee shop is for people who like to play (Note: By play, she really means that the coffee shop is trying to target a "younger" generation... the cooler ones).

Me: Sure. Do you understand Mom?

Mom: Yes.

Me: Let me try explaining with another curse word. Mom, you know the "F" word?

Mom: Yes.

Me: Well if someone says, "F you," that's cursing at you. It's not meant to be a compliment.

Mom: I know you don't want to say the word, but I cannot pronounce it. Can you say it, so I can hear what it sounds like?

Me: (Feeling very uncomfortable). Sure Mom. (Note: I will continue to say the "F word" because I still don't feel comfortable typing it out). So I repeat the phrase and then explain that if someone says, "Wow you're F'ing awesome" that can be a compliment.

Mom: Oh. Okay, thanks. Do you know how to curse in Vietnamese?

Me: No mom, I don't think I'd really recognize it if I heard it.

Mom: (As she tends to change the subject on a whim) Why do you have black bags under your eyes?

Me: I don't know. I get 8 hours of sleep a night... but it would be great if I could wake up at 8am instead of 6am.

*We spend the rest of the time having other morning conversations or she sleeps while I sing before we get to work. Did I mention that I LOVE how my mom and I have conversation? I love how she tries to understand the American culture and the world around her. She's a very wise woman, and I hope to be just a fraction of her very badass-ness when I am a mother... pardon me.*

the "Fitness Test"

Going to the gym and working out is something I use to love doing. I'm not sure what happened my senior year in college, but I just got so super lazy. I ate way too much steak and laid around way too much. Apparently running basketball games didn't help seeing as how, I usually just trotted along.

Well, I was signed up to take a "Fitness Test" at 24 Hour Fitness. I was a little bit nervous b/c I wasn't sure what to expect. I knew they were going to measure my body fat, etc. etc.... And that just sounds disgusting (despite the fact that I like pudge).

In any case, Lindsay is the woman who measured me. She use to be a body builder :D I sat down with her, and she asked me some questions. I told her I played competitive sports in high school and was very active with intramural throughout college. She was impressed! (haha, she hasn't seen me play). She was also impressed that I went to the gym after work and attempted to keep myself in shape. It was now time for her to measure my body fat. Needless to say she was shocked to find the amount of body fat on me. (It's not off the charts. I'm actually on average). However, she did say that since I was only 22 and was so active in the past, she wanted to see me reduce my body fat about 5%. (Note: the most fat found on my body was in my triceps... I attribute that to my inability to do a kick back using a 5 lb. weight. AND in my food baby that I've been able to trim much of it off since coming back to Houston).

She also had me do a squat test. When I finished, she proceeded to tell me that all my muscles were tight. (In my head, I'm thinking... awesome... my muscles are tight). Unfortunately, she said that was bad. Because I sit at a desk all day and wear heels, it doesn't help out my case.

Since, I live in Houston she told me to talk to a trainer at the club I go to so he/she could assist me with my "targets." I told her I didn't really have time for all of that, so I asked her what she recommended for me in light of my "problems." Her response:

"Girl, you need to stretch. STRETCH STRETCH STRETCH (yes Miss Jenny I remember when you use to make me stretch, and I hated it!). AND you need to FIRE YOUR GLOOTS." So, I will now attempt to stretch more and fire my gloots. And I suppose toughen up my triceps and food baby :D

Public Restrooms

I've always thought being of the male gender definitely had its advantages over the female gender. And yes, I do acknowledge that I think being a girl is great... I wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes I wish I were a boy... Mainly for the following reason:

On our way to Austin this weekend, my sister and I stopped at the usual Buckee's Gas Station. (Side: I do commend Buckees b/c they have one of the cleanest restrooms I've ever used at a gas station). Anyhow, I usually always check to make sure the stall I've entered has toilet paper. You see, being a girl... toilet paper is very essential. However, I was in such a rush to go, I did my thing and noticed: NO TOILET PAPER in my dispenser. Again, if I were of the male gender, this would not be such an issue.
Anyhow, the stalls at Buckee's are little different than normal ones. Usually, you can see the person's feet at the bottom of the stall, but here, each stall is like a private room. You're locked in with four solid walls. So.... I did what I had to do... I opened my door and peeked out. As I saw this woman walking by (which is fortunate because I didn't want to have to scream too loudly for assistance), I yelled out, "Excuse me!" She jumped and looked at me startled. :D

I proceeded to ask her for some toilet paper and that was that. Needless to say, I felt a little embarrassed, but hey... This wasn't the first time I've had to ask for toilet paper. But usually, I don't have to open my stall door.

Don't you want to live here?

Imagine waking up at 6:00AM. Not so bad if you were in bed by the planned 9:30pm. Unfortunately, bed time occurred at 12:30AM. So you manage to leave the house by 6:20AM, and when you're in the HOV lane all the cars come to a hault. (Mind you, we are in the Houston HOV lane in which you can only enter and exit at certain locations). You do the right thing and inform your boss that you will probably be running a little late. Not such a bad thing since you get to turn off your engine and sleep for about another 45 minutes in a locked lane.

Now picture jokingly telling your mom, "Wow, this would be great if it happened again tomorrow because you would get to sleep another extra 45 minutes." What are the odds?

It is now the next day. Same scenerio except before you get to the HOV entrance, traffic is backed up, and YOU ARE NOT MOVING at all. It is 7:00AM, and you think to yourself, "Man, I should call my boss and let her know that you may come in a little bit late as well." As Houston traffic completely is irritating, I sit in the car for another hour before I even get into the HOV entrance ramp (at which point, you now need 3 passengers in the vehicle). Well, I did call in and tell my boss I was going to be late again because of FLASHING SIGNALS at I-10 and HWY 6. BLAH. I did get to sleep for another hour in the car while Mom drove, but I DO NOT LIKE HAVING TO CALL MY BOSS AND TELLING THEM I AM STUCK IN TRAFFIC YET AGAIN.

Moral of the Story: I absolutely abhor Houston traffic.