These feet were made for walking... to restaurants

I went ice skating last week.

I think I was inspired by the Olympics and the fact that I live in a rather Winter-friendly town. So, I figured I should get my ass out into nature and get a little exercise at the same time.

Um, ice skating sucks. Did anyone else know that?

First of all, the shoes are ugly. I know the point of skating is not to be fashionable (just tell that to the male Olympic figures skaters) but all the skates were the color of bean curd.

Also, those things are not comfortable at all. I tightened them as much as I could but my arches were screaming.

On another note, did you know that there are three main groups attracted to ice skating? Allow me to drop a knowledge bomb on you.

• Children ages 5-9
• Young couples
• Teenagers

The little kids bother me the least, but I am terrified of skating over their tiny little fingers when they fall down and just lay there for half an hour.

The couples are dangerous. Because they all hold hands and refuse to let go, you're much more apt to get clothes-lined by love.

The teenagers are the worst. I mean, I hate this demographic to begin with but put them in a small, confined area and on a slippery surface and you're asking for disaster. All they do is push each other down, run into the wall and face plant right in front of you to show their friends how cool they are.

I didn't last long.

I went with a friend and her boyfriend. We left after 20 min.

But then we went to lunch and ate fried food. So, that part of ice skating was great!

Perhaps I'm the only one that feels this way about ice skating. Is there any other activity or popular outing everyone seems to enjoy but you hate?

Tell me what you loathe. I promise to validate you.

VD- Valentine's Day or Venereal Disease?

My Valentine's Day weekend sucked rabid camel bits.

I've never had one quite this foul, and I think it's because I don't have any single, female friends.

All of my girlfriends here are in serious, long-term relationships. And while they don't necessarily shove it in my face (all the time), they were also unavailable the whole weekend.

So, because the weather blows monkey chunks and my friends are all out of town, cavorting with their significant others, I pretty much got to stay at home all weekend and sulk like a giant wiener.




I think it really took me by surprise because I was feeling so positive and optimistic about the whole thing. I mean, I don't mind if other people celebrate it. I really don't. I was just going to do something else... except, then I couldn't. Or didn't.

I'm only confessing this because I think I often present with an assertive "fuck you" attitude toward things like this as though it doesn't affect me, but it gets to me too, sometimes.

Moping can be expensive, though. I mean, in order to feel better, I had to buy myself dinner a couple times and, of course, some jewelry.

Good thing I'm a cheap date.

I may vomit

I watched Julie and Julia tonight.

I watched it with a wheel of brie, a jar of fig jam and a box of crackers.

I am convinced that this is the correct way to watch this movie.

I'm also convinced that I may toss my cookies within the next half hour.

In short, I love cheese, I love Meryl Streep and I might blow chunks.

This one's for the ladies

Sometimes by the end of the day, I'll feel like a giant barf bag.

Today just happens to be one of those days.

My first instinct is to go over what I ate during the course of the day. This involves having a little chat with myself, and it goes a little something like this:

Good grief, Grilled Cheese, what did you eat today?

It wasn't that much, calm down.

You can't be serious. It feels awful in here.

Back off. I ate super healthy today.

Really? Okay, list it off.

Fine. Today, I had a banana, applesauce, oatmeal, two grilled cheese sandwiches, yogurt, a giant salad, a pop-tart, a chocolate peanut butter milkshake, finished a bag of Alexia aged cheddar waffle fries crunchy snacks, half a bag of tomato, romano and olive oil Soy Crisps and more applesauce. Oh. That's a little more than I thought.

What do you have to say for yourself?

PMS?

Touche.


**This post was inspired by a lovely poem by Bethany.