SarahWurrey.com

Fact #1: I absolutely love to swim.

Fact #2: My incredibly ill-advised stab at becoming a runner last year has left me with a bum foot. I’m actually not really sure what’s wrong with it, which is shocking since I am a certified WebMD. Maybe a stress fracture? Maybe lingering plantar fascitis? Who knows. I can has x-ray?

Fact #3: I still want to exercise–hence? Deep water aerobics!

It’s supposed to be an amazing workout.

…..

It’s reeeeeally not. Certain parts are tough, especially the arm work with the foam rubber underwater weights, that’s the only part of class where I get out of breath. Sadly those sections only last for about the first 20 minutes, then the rest of the hour-long class is taken up by ridiculousness. Like underwater “crunches.”

Note to all water aerobics instructors: You’re on the side of the pool shouting instructions, NOT IN THE WATER. So when you’re suggesting I do this killer ab move…well it’s just really not hard to do when you’re underwater with a flotation belt on and clinging to a flotation noodle. What IS hard is trying to not swallow public pool water (mmmm, urine!) and drown while thrashing around like a damn marlin.

Why the thrashing, you ask? Oh that would be from attempting to do squats while balancing with a noodle under each foot. Squats on dry land? Incredibly effective, and an incredibly simple movement to perform. Underwater squats on noodles?  Incredibly ineffective, and insanely difficult to execute without getting a foot cramp or dinged in the back of the head from the noodle flying out from under the old lady behind you.

(Insert noodle jokes here.)

(That’s what she said.)

In the interests of firing up the old blog engine again after my usually scheduled four week break (which I take once every two weeks–blogging is hard work you guys), I am pulling a topic from the illustrious (in both esteem and hair) Meg Fowler. Nothing gets the writing juices flowing like a good old fashioned peeve-a-thon!

Therefore, here are Six Things That Will Always Annoy Me.

1) Incompetent Starbucks Baristas – I am not a person who berates those who work in the food service industry. My boyfriend works in this industry. My sister works in this industry. I almost always leave a 20% tip regardless of service at restaurants, becuase a) it’s easy math (math is hard!), and b) I don’t punish people financially for having a bad day or being grumpy and/or forgetful. If I myself were punished financially for grumpiness and forgetfulness, I’d be destitute.

(Here comes the but!) BUT–what’s up, Starbucks baristas??? It’s a Venti. Skim. Misto. Sugar-free caramel. And yet?

“Can I get a venti skim Misto with sugar-free caramel?”
“Sure. Calling bar! I need a venti Misto with vanilla!”
“Uh, no, it’s a SKIM, and that’s sugar-free caramel.”
“Oh whoops–Make that skim! And make it sugar-free vanilla!”
“NO. CARAMEL.”
“Caramel!”
“Sugar Free! Sugar Free Caramel!!!!!”

And even after all that they still hand me my finished drink without the caramel 3 times out of 5.

(Dunkin on the other hand, is right every time. *wistful sigh*)

2) Skinny People Who Complain About Their Weight – This one is tough, because some of my  best friends are Skinny People Who Complain About Their Weight. And yes, here is my obligatory admission that everyone from size 0 to size 300 will feel crappy about the way their butt looks in a particular pair of pants at some point in their lives. But for the most part? Cram it, Skinny People Who Complain About Their Weight! I think what bothers me most about this peeve is the silent understanding between me and the Skinny Person Complaining About Their Weight that if they woke up one day and looked like me, they would probably not even leave the house, except maybe to throw themselves in front of traffic. I just never really know what to say, so I usually go with the silent fume.

3) Message Boards – I got flamed for the first time last week, and I still can’t believe it took me 15 years of being online for this to happen. Long story short, I raised the ire of a regular commenter on the board I was posting on, and it resulted in a day-long event in which everyone thereafter posted HUNDREDS of comments questioning my moral fiber, level of attractiveness, intelligence, maturity, ability to read, and potential for finding a life mate. In short, message boards are, anthropologically speaking, bat$h!t CRAZY places. They are generally self-ruled by gangs of “regulars.” These regulars apparently don’t have jobs, because all they do all day long is post to their message board of choice. If you are new to the board and say something they don’t like, they will insult, taunt, and bully you endlessly. Trying to defend yourself only makes it worse; the only way out of it is to relent and admit they are your master, or post a final angry message about how you are taking your ball and going home. The second option is potentially more infuriating, because you will inevitably go back to this message board and wait for the flood of responses begging you not to leave and apologizing for how bat$h!t crazy the regular posters are, but you will instead be met with the Internet equivalent of that “Na-na-na-na hey hey hey good bye!” song. It stings. Avoid these places like the plague.

4) Reading Over My Shoulder – The easiest way to send me flying irrationally off the handle? Read over my shoulder, or ask me what I’m reading. Poor Chef Jon is obviously the most common victim of this one, as he can never help but ask me what I’m reading when I’m sitting with my laptop.

“Whatcha reading???”
“A blog.”
“What blog?”
“It’s a review of that movie we saw.”
“Oh, what are they saying?”
“OMFG LEAVE ME ALONE!”

And then he gets all hurt. I’m not saying it’s reasonable to yell at someone for this infraction. Nor is it necessarily polite to sit on your laptop and ignore your boyfriend when he’s at your house. I never said these peeves were rational, people! But damn. If I’m reading something, just let me be. Then maybe in the car later, “Hey have you read anything interesting lately? Can you recommend a funny blog?” Then I will be nice, because I am not being interrupted. Simple!

5) People Who Put You On The Phone With Their Children – This is self explanatory (one would think). Also, people who post photos of their kids as their Facebook picture. Yes, I’m an evil witch who eats babies for breakfast. But like I said, not all of these peeves are rational. It’s like people who hate Christmas. HOW CAN YOU HATE CHRISTMAS!? I exclaim. But they can’t explain it, they just do. That’s how I feel about Facebook profile photos of your admittedly cute baby. I’m sorry, really.

6) Sanctimonious Vegetarians/Workout Addicts/Ex-Smokers -

“I don’t understand how people can eat that! I don’t put anything into my body that wasn’t grown in the turd pile in my backyard. And can I just tell you how great I feel? And you should see my poop! Before I put it into my turd garden, I always check it thoroughly to make sure I’m digesting properly. And can I just tell you, do not get that generic brand of the pro-biotic poo-yogurt, only Pay$$$WhenYouAlreadyPooForFree! Yogurt will work. And ever since I gave up smoking and started 5am spinning and yoga every day, I am just so energetic! And did I tell you we got rid of our TV? We’re all just so much happier.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was distracted by the ‘Real World’ marathon that’s on and this ginormous bag of cheez-its. Also, can we talk later? I’m out of cigs. Byeee!”

To paraphrase a line from “When Harry Met Sally,” everybody thinks they have good taste. But really, most of us, despite our illusions, are basically just a pile of ridiculous habits, trashy hobbies, and absurd taste in music, reading materials, and movies.

(ESPECIALLY movies, if the $200 mil the insanely horrible assault on the senses ‘Transformers’ movie took in last week is any indication.)

(No. Really. Do NOT go see it. Not even if you’re a Megan Fox fanboy. Buy yourself a Maxim, it’s cheaper.)

Rather than try to act all cool about my alleged love for that obscure band that no one’s ever heard of, or look down on people for their crap movie choices (except in the case of the “Transformers” movie, becuase oh. my. GOD. NO.), I tend to embrace my own mainstream trashiness–we all have our guilty pleasures, what’s the harm in admitting that I’d rather read US Weekly and watch “90210″ reruns on SoapNet than go see some arthouse film? I saw “Rachel Getting Married” after it got gushing critical raves, and guess what? I’d throw it in the bin alongside “Transformers” in about two seconds. Pretentious balderdash.

Without further rambling, I present my first entry in the July Wurrey/Momsey Blogging Challenge (if, that is, Big Red is willing to let me take a pass on missing yesterday, which I think he will since he’s basically the world’s most wonderful guy, amiright???): What are your top 5 guilty pleasures? Here are mine, in no particular order. With the caveat that really, I don’t feel all that guilty about loving any of these things:

5) Bud Light Lime – Sorry guys, it’s delightful. It tastes like a beer and a margarita had a baby. A delicious, delicious baby. It’s also fabulous for drinking outside in hot sunny weather–give me a pool, an endless supply of Bud Light Lime, and a beach book, and I’m good to go for summer. Suck on it, haters!

4) Sweet Valley High – I burned through about a hundred of these books in a year when I was growing up. If given the opportunity I’d devour them all again en masse, probably only needing a single weekend. Instead of blowing money at the used book store, however, I find myself drawn to YA lit blogs, particularly those with a Sweet Valley bent. I recommend The Dairi Burger, particularly the recaps and analysis of our favorite teen sociopaths. Seriously, how did I never notice growing up that Jessica Wakefield was like a cheerleader Pol Pot? She even had an even more evil alter-ego, “Jessa Fields.” Jessa was “European” and had black hair. Brilliant.

3) Every single cheesetastic ridiculous song that Taylor Swift has ever written or will live to write. ESPECIALLY the new one.

2) I got an iPhone. One day later, I paid $0.99 to install an application to make fart noises. Fewer things recently have brought me more joy.

1) Sno-Balls–I had to have a junk food on this list, obviously. Everyone has one favorite, go-to junk food for when they need a sugary or greasy fix, usually after 3 or 4 (or…6 or 7) Bud Light Limes. Pizza, a classic. Five Guys, always reliable. Ice cream for the sugar lovers, yes yes yes. For me, for some reason, if I’m hitting a 7-11 at one in the morning in search of something awful, I almost always seek out the Sno-Balls. I eat them maybe once a year, because, well, any more than that and I might either die or actually turn into one like Violet Bickerstaff.

Thank you, Hostess. I love you.

What about you? Favorite things you should not love, but do with reckless abandon? Spill it.

You too, Big Man.

I found this map online.

Damn you, Google.

To give you some perspective, so far the longest distance I’ve run in this pathetic and surely doomed to failure endeavor of “hauling my fat ass across 26.2 miles” is just over 3 miles. That is, if you look at the map, the distance around East Potomac Park and Hain’s Point. This will be, if this map remains the general route, around miles 17-20 of my alleged marathon.

Generally speaking, when I finish that particular loop, I collapse in a gasping heap as my calf muscles and shins enter what I’ve come to affectionately know as the “53 minutes of painful spasms followed by 42 of light yet equally painful twitching” phase. After. Three. Miles.

And yet, I will persevere. Even I have to admit, as proud as I am so far for sticking to the training schedule, collapsing in that heap at only mile 3 would be truly pathetic, and unworthy of a Sugarbaker woman.

Week Three Observations:

Mmmm, cheesy poofs.

1) I am so. Freaking. Hungry!!!

Hungry. Gimme gimme gimme. I could eat my cat right now, with the right sauce. And yet my charming coach berates politely informs me repeatedly that I can’t actually eat my cat, and yours. Not only that, she’s insisting I join Weight Watchers or some other form of organized nutrition tracking group in order to make sure I eat a balanced diet in the coming weeks.

Now, dropping some weight would certainly make this process easier–but considering “hungry” is my default state even when the only exercise I’m getting is walking to the door to let in the pizza guy, I have a feeling that this is going to be…challenging. Freaking hell–why am I doing this again?

Starting weight: 100 pounds
What, you thought I was going to put the real number on here? Nope, we’re starting at 100–The fact that I have not actually weighed 100 pounds since….fifth grade? Is irrelevant. Just try not to be disturbed when I give my Week 20 updates and claim to weigh only 23 pounds.

2) My Buddy and Me: FAIL

I have yet to run with a buddy until yesterday, when my friend Jen and I hit up the cross country trails at our old high school in rainy Trashua Nashua, NH. The good news is that I seem to have developed a breathing rhythm that works for me (gasp gasp puff, gasp gasp puff….sounding something like a hog in labor, I’m sure). The bad news is that I’m pretty sure Jen was wondering what I’ve been talking about with all this “running” business for the past few weeks. She kept insisting that we were running at same pace she might do herself if she were alone…and yet I couldn’t help noticing that our conversations went something like this:

Jen: Wow, check out that creepy guy with the homemade fishing pole, omg, he has a porn stache! Do you think he’s going to murder us? Do you think it’s even safe for us to run here?
Me: (gasp gasp puff) yeah (gasp gasp puff) he (gasp gasp puff) is pretty (cough gasp cough) creepy.
Jen: Are you okay? Hey look, those guys have a paddle boat! Do you think they’re actually catching fish? I don’t think I could actually eat fish from this river, it looks pretty nastifying, hmm, maybe I want to eat some potato salad after this, and what time do you think we should go out tonight?
Me: Um…. (gasp choke cough wheeze) I….can’t…(wheeze) talk (gasp gasp puff).

3) Drinking is bad, m’kay?

Friday night my dear friend Jenny was getting married in Maine. I will not disclose fully all I had to drink that night, but will admit that the night ended at around 230 in the morning with two White Russians. Yeah milk and vodka (and various other adult beverages) mixing around in mah belleh! We’re going to shake shake shake you up tomorrow! Get some rest! This is probably why Jen also might have wondered what I’ve been talking about with all this “running” business when I made her stop to walk with me every quarter mile or so. If by “walk” you mean “dry heave”.

All in all, a great week! Here’s the official update, with all times are estimates becuase I left my spreadsheet at the office.

Week Three Training Update, the Dry Heave Edition

Sunday: Rest, aaah.
Monday: 2 miles, 28 min (I think? I remember being happy I finished before my laundry was done, and the washing machine cycle is 28 min! I’m sticking to it!)
Tuesday: 2 miles, 31 minutes (this was the night I went in Old Town, and was harrassed by a gaggle of street youths who seemed impressed at just how hard boobs can bounce when a woman is barely even running)
Wednesday: 2 miles, 32 minutes (this was my morning run, which turned into a walk because I honestly thought I might barf)
Thursday: Blessedly, a rest day
Friday: Cross training, I was forced to count the 30 min or so of booty shaking I did at the wedding as such. I did get out of breath. Whatever, I’m counting it. I also did a few dozen “arm lifts” to my pie hole as I shoved it full of cake and beer and White Russians.
Saturday: 3 to 3.5 or so miles (not actually sure, because apparently the mile markers at Mines Falls Park in Nashua…don’t exist. What’s that all about??) 50 min. 55 if you count dry heave breaks.

Weight: 100 pounds
Weight loss/gain: I’ll let you know at the next update. I’m thinking after the weekend, it’s +28 or so–there was a fried pickles incident.