30 June 2008
Also, in an effort to post the most unflattering picture of myself, I would like to present black eye number four.
I'm waiting to see if anyone picks this up off the internet and uses it in an awareness poster that reads, "Just Say No To Drunken Bar Fights."
24 June 2008
The race was pretty uneventful except for the the unfortunate experience of me being in one of the Port-A-John's, retching, while our runner was coming through the check-point of our last leg. Yeah, I was embarrassed. I took an 800 mg ibuprofen an hour before, didn't eat anything and it ripped up my stomach. I was nauseous my entire last leg of 5.9 miles. Lesson learned.
Zach, Becky, Shannon, and Quint.
Great. The only picture taken of me was at night when I was wearing the required reflective vest and headlamp. And I don't normally run with my head down. I have no idea what I was doing at this moment. Wait, is this even me?
The scenery was unreal. Sometimes the beauty of it made me forget how much I don't like running. Like for 3 seconds. Tops.
Shannon and Quinton
Jeremy (Shannon's bro) joined our team when one Nelson employee dropped out. Shannon has wanted to set us up for a while. Uhm, yes please!
Stretching the legs
Zach was a champ during this race. He doesn't quit no matter how much it hurts. He had a brutal uphill stretch at Avon pass and he conquered it. He kicked that hill's ass!
Zach passing off to Jeremy
Jeremy passing to Quint. Or maybe Quint is just giving him some water. Or just maybe I wanted a picture of Jeremy with his shirt off. Hmmm.
My second Wasatch Back medal! I'm kind of a big deal.
19 June 2008
I complain, but in the end I love doing this stuff. I love accomplishing something. I worked hard to get in marathon shape last year and feel proud of myself for retaining quite a bit of that.
I'm part of a great team this year. Most of the runners are people that I work with and I really enjoy them. Our team name is Nelson Lab Staph and the runners are me, Shannon, Quint, Zach, Jeremy, Becky, Ben, Caleb, Porter, Sherri, Pete, and Emily.
Did you know that one loaf of bread can make 10 peanut butter sandwiches? Yep. And did you know that I can make all of them in less time than it takes to listen to the song Yellow Ledbetter? Yep. In the next 48 hours I plan on eating at least 6 of the sandwiches plus 6 apples, 3 bananas, some snap peas, 4 packs of GU, and 4 of protein bars.
I made a killer playlist for the run. It contains alot of AC/DC, Pearl Jam, Linkin Park, Metallica, Fuel, Incubus, and Justin Timberlake. Wait...not JT.
Good luck Lydia and Mike! I highly doubt that we'll see each other on the course, but we'll have to get together afterwards and have an achievement dinner.
17 June 2008
1) Call me crazy, but I love this dress. Or maybe I just like the way that Natalie Portman looks in it. Or maybe I just want to look like this. Yeah, that's it.
2) I heard a crazy story on the radio this morning about someone throwing a cigarette butt out their car window and starting a brush fire. I knew throwing those things out the window was dangerous. I'm paranoid when I run over a burning butt because I think somehow one little cinder is going to find a tiny breach in my gas tank and my car is going to explode leaving me to die a horrible, painful death.
3) Super is losing scales. A significant amount of scales. I would say that he has lost one third of his total body scale count. Is that bad? Should I be worried? Does anyone has any information on extreme fish scale loss? I mean, besides telling me that he's getting old.
4) Get some Witch Hazel. I had some pretty serious mat burn from Jujitsu on Saturday. Someone told me that Witch Hazel astringent would heal that up. And it did. And now I want to profess my love for Witch Hazel from a mountain top!
5) I just checked my email. Apparently I'm the heir of an extremely large amount of money from a distant relative in South Africa and I'm supposed to send $5,000 to get the money out of litigation. Let me write the check and then I'm taking the next ten people that comment on my blog to the Caribbean!
6) I have a pen pal at work. I'm going to call him The Reporter because he's in the reporting department (my creativity goes to bed before my body does). He randomly emailed me about something and now we write back and forth all the time. We share book recommendations and exchange encouragement on the different projects that we're involved in. It's strictly platonic, but very enjoyable. I thrive on meeting new and interesting people. I love getting to be good friends with others that are so different from me. By doing that I feel as though I am constantly learning and gaining a different perspective on things and it has helped me be able to relate to all types of people.
7) I met Ben's family. It was such a comfortable situation. If it would've been a few months ago I would've interpreted the invite as something that it wasn't. It finally feels like we're friends again. For a while there I thought that he was completely done with me. But we've started working on the business again and being friends. It was nice seeing him around his family. He was less Ben The Almighty and more Ben The Chillaxed. His family reminded me of my family. Everyone is so different but the dynamic of those personalities together is amazing. I really enjoy his mom. She's so laid back and comfortable to talk to. His dad fascinates me and I can't explain why. I'd have to spend more time around him to figure it out. His sisters are beautiful and very personable. Unfortunately his brothers weren't there. I've heard stories and now am curious.
8) I just fell asleep on my computer desk. My left typing hand settled into a pool of my own drool. I'm such a drooler! Is there a drug of some sort that can help control saliva production? I split my lip open at Absolute a week or two ago and the amount of drool that was coming out of my mouth while my lip was swollen was unbelievably sick. I had no control whatsoever. I would wake up and have my entire pillow wet with drool. Please don't judge me. I'm very normal in so many other ways.
Except this one:
I can totally do that just like Garth Algar. No lie. Well, I tone down the pelvic thrusts a little.
I can't think of anything more to write about today. I wish that I had something scandalous to tell you, but I don't. Sorry. And good night.
14 June 2008
I rode all the roller-coasters and those weren't too bad. They didn't make me puke, but they did make some choice words come out of my mouth. Nothing like being plummeted to what seems like inevitable death to make you scream Mother Effer. I kid, I kid. It was more like, SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! Sorry to those of you that are offended by my foul language (please don't flag my blog), but that is what was said in those moments of eye-bulging horror. I'm just keeping it real here.
I went with a few girls that I worked with in my old department. Ashley and Adrianne are fellow Nelson employees. Emily, Ashley's cool younger sister, also came with us. Emily and I get along so great. We both have similar playful personalities. We were at the park for almost 7 hours, which was 3 hours longer than I'd hoped that we would stay. There came a point where I was done going on any rides because I was positive that I would spew everywhere. I was thinking back (while I sat on a nearby bench eating a churro, watching the others snake through the lines) to when I was much younger and my family would take trips like this. I grew very tall, very young. I was 6 feet by the time I was in 8th grade which made me a complete social disaster, but that is a story for another time. I could go on all the rides that most others my age couldn't go on because I passed the height requirement. My older brother would actually cry because I could go on the terrifying roller-coaster rides with my dad and he had to stay behind and watch. I remember thinking that I really didn't want to go those on those rides but would anyway just because it made my brother mad. Man, I'm so rotten.
Don't you want to hurl just looking at this picture? I think I just did in my mouth a little bit.
Ashley straddling Adrianne. I'm not a big fan of those two people in one seat rides. Emily and I rode together in this thing and we were one massive display of arms and legs. We are both 6 feet tall. We could hardly contain our limbs in those little cars.
Emily, Ashley, Adrianne, and Chad on The Rocket. We met up with Chad and his girlfriend, Twee, a bit later in the day. Twee was a bit of a chicken when it came to the rides. Chad had scratch marks in his arm to prove it.
10 June 2008
I'll admit it. I really want to see Never Back Down. I fully realize that it is not an accurate depiction of mixed martial arts, but it is a modern day Karate Kid! And the fights in it could potentially be good since they are all choreographed. I'm sure I missed my chance to see it in the theaters, so I think (since I don't own a TV) that I would say yes to the first person that invites me over to watch this movie, and I would bring the most delicious treat EVER to thank them for their generosity.
Here's a clip of what you can look forward to.
Did everyone just change their minds?
I also want to take this opportunity (since I am admitting secret shames) that I had the world's largest crush on Ralph Macchio after I saw the Karate Kid. I was so fickle when I was much younger. I was fully devoted to Luke Skywalker for the first part of elementary school, but as soon as I saw Daniel LaRusso's moves I was easily swayed. It has all come full circle now. I have always had the love of martial arts and now instead of manifesting itself by making me fall for a dorky character in a movie, I'm participating in it. I understand myself so much better now.
And because this all goes together so well, I'm just going to tell you one thing more. And please don't hold this against me for the rest of my life. Promise? Ok. I had this fantasy a long time ago when all my friends were getting proposed to, that my guy would put on that "rising sun" headband that Daniel LaRusso wore and sing The Glory of Love song to me. I must clarify that I don't want that anymore. I would probably be horribly embarrassed for any man that would ever really do that. And I am embarrassed that at one point in my life I actually thought that a display like that would be a good idea. What a tragedy.
You can't tell me that after watching that video that you didn't want to kick that guy in the face. I wouldn't believe you if you said no. Peter Cetera is painful to watch.
Now that song, in theory, is adorable. If any man really thought that way about me, or wanted to say those things to me, I'd melt like a tube of lipstick in a hot car.
09 June 2008
So here is another short post with the promised old ads:
They are so right! I'm at my happiest when I eat lard.
This one is awesome. This could solve all my problems with men's indifference toward me. Lesson learned.
You just never can tell. Better safe than sorry.
08 June 2008
04 June 2008
02 June 2008
Durb (I know that you have stopped calling me Alex, but I just can't stop calling you Durb. Forgive me. I can't hep it), I remember the day we met. Just kidding, I don't remember at all! I just remember that you entered my life by way of the 16th ward. And I remember that all the girls were jealous because you and the blondes really shook things up. I heard them talking in the bathroom once, downstairs in the Institute after a stupid linger-longer. True story. And then I, Vanessa the Scientist, became one of the blondes. I will forever remember the initiation ceremony where we cut our our palms and drained our blood into vials to wear around our necks, and then we wrestled in our bras and panties. Oh wait...that was something else. I believe the blondes initiation ceremony was more along the lines of racing the Corvette down the canyon to the reservoir and then skinny dipping in a lightning storm. Yeah, that sounds more like it. We were pretty hardcore.
Seriously Nat, I can't get enough of you. I love you so much. You are a total rock star! You will always be one of my best friends and favorite people. You have always been there for me 100%. I love how last year on my birthday you sent an email at 12:01 am so as to be the first to wish me a happy birthday. I love how you would come over at 1:00 am to pry Fly from the filter. I love how everytime you came up from Vegas you would stop at my house to say hi before you headed up north. I love how last year, when I was an emotional basket case, you would find any way to come up and just let me cry on your shoulder. I love that you have such an amazing family that have accepted me as their own. I love that you were totally cool about me snowboarding with your husband. And I love that you married such an All-Star who has made me feel important, because I'm important to you. I love that when we arrange to meet in Barnes & Noble, that we find each other in the Science section. I love your kindness and generosity, which I feel a blessed recipient of. I love how I had to bring you your underwear in the temple on your wedding day. I love the fact that when I back out of plans at the last minute you don't get mad. And I love how when you don't feel like doing something, you tell me straight out, and I don't get mad. I love that we have that understanding.
I adore you, Durb. I'm so happy that you're a big part of my life! Let's be friends forever. Deal? Deal.
Do you realize that I don't have any recent pictures of us? Let's remedy that soon, shall we?
And the love tiger picture. Classic.
And this one that I already posted on my blog, but will post again for pictures sake.
01 June 2008
I've been writing alot lately. I try to spend about an hour a day writing. I still want to publish something someday. I know what you're thinking, "If she thinks that she's going to get anything published with the kind of writing that she's displaying here, then she's completely delusional." Well, my thought is that if Stephenie Meyer can get published with that kind of writing, then there's hope for me. Kidding, kidding. Actually, I'm not kidding at all! But I do want to explain that when I write on my blog I spend 15 minutes at the most. I don't edit my work. I just go for it. And that's why the grammar is horrible and the posts don't make any sense. I think blogging is a good way to stay in touch with those that you don't see all the time and still want to keep up on. I really enjoy reading my friends blogs (even if they only post every other month).
Lately I really haven't even had time to even spend my 15 minutes blogging. I've been dating and trying to keep up on a social life. I've 4 callings in my ward now and I take those responsibilities seriously. I've been working out twice a day trying to get ready for the Wasatch Back, plus I just want to get all trim and cut. I've actually been thinking about starting a training blog so you guys can keep up on me and my fitness goals. I signed up for the Provo River Half Marathon and a few local triathlon sprints. I also want to get a fight behind me. I have alot to look forward to.
Have you ever been ice blocking? I had no idea what it was until the youth went for their Wednesday night activity last week. You slide down a hill on a block of ice. That's the extent of it. We went to Flat Iron park in Sandy. When we drove up to the hill I remember thinking that someone was going to die. That hill was enormous. I'm not a wuss by any means, but I was a bit nervous sitting on that block of ice at the top of the hill. Of course I was the only leader that would attempt it. I only made it about 20 feet my first time, but I was going at top speeds of like 100 mph. I'm pretty sure that a helmet should be required for this type of activity. I hit a divot in the hill and flew off my ice block. I rolled another 20 feet down the hill and then stopped. My ice block caught up with me a few seconds later and tagged me in the back. That felt so good. I have pride issues and had the race back up the hill and try it 100 more times until I finally made it all the way down still on the block. After the activity I raced to Absolute to make it to a Jujitsu class. A few of the guys commented on the huge grass stains that I had all over my arms. The truth is, I am the Hulk. Don't get me angry.
I've actually been listening to country lately. I'm really branching out. Maybe it's that I've been living in Utah too long. It's just that sometimes country music fits the mood. The other day I was driving east on I-80 towards Park City, the sun was going down and the clouds were ominous and threatening. There were flashes of lightning in the sky. I turned on some country and a string of sad, yet beautiful songs were on. Country songs actually tell a story. Half of them totally make me cry. Which brings me to my next paragraph.
I've become a cryer! I cry all the time now! Me! I know! I used to never cry. I didn't even cry when I broke up with the guy I thought I was going to marry. The tears only came when there was the death of a close friend or relative. I remember sitting the movie theater with a bunch of friends watching Titanic. They were all bawling when Jack died. And I'm not talking one trickling tear down their cheek. This was the heaving sob kind of crying. I recall being embarrassed out of my mind for my friends, and while we were walking out they were talking about how my heart must be made of stone because I wasn't sad. And in my mind I was screaming at them, "C'mon you idiots, it's not freaking real!" These days I'm crying at movies such as Chicken Little. Yep, that stupid Disney pixar movie made me cry. I felt so bad that Foxy Loxy was picking on poor Chicken Little relentlessly. It brought me back to Junior High where all the boys made fun of me in gym class because my mom wouldn't let me shave my legs and they were moderately hairy. As hairy as they get when you're only eleven years old. So yeah, I felt that Chicken Little and I had a connection, and I cried. The other day Super got a little stuck in the eye hole (ocular cavity?) of the skull decoration in his tank. I could tell that he was quite frightened by the way his little body was twitching and how his eyes were bulging out of his head. I felt so bad for him that I started crying. Pathetic, I know. You don't have to tell me twice. This whole crying thing started about a year ago and I hope it's just a phase. I certainly don't want it to get worse. I'd have to shoot myself.
I burnt the back of my legs today while getting into my car after church. My dress rode up a little as I sat down on the black leather seats of my Volvo that was baking in the sun all afternoon. They are seriously hurting. That combined with my butt being super sore from ice blocking is making me sit a bit askew in my chair as I type this. My right leg is going numb, so I'd better end this entry. Behave yourselves!