Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present to you the worlds first 'Filing System' for crazies on FB. After many late nights spent breaking down the insanity that composes 98% of Facebook posts, Ive created a taxonomy of sorts to help you wade through the nut jobs. Im confident ALL of the crazy people on your page will fall into one of these 5 basic categories:
1. PAN's (Passive Aggressive Nightmares): These are truly the most annoying and arguably the most entertaining to read. There is always someone wronging them and they are ALWAYS gonna tell you all about it..via FB. If they had a fight with their husband/wife/boss/sister/cousin/gas station attendant, you will know about it. No one appreciates them and they are PISSED about it. Do yourself a solid and NEVER comment on these posts. Your words of consolation are like heroin to these attention whores. Do not be an enabler. Read the post, laugh, move on.
2. The Friend Collector: They need a fan club. They want you to be among the 1108 people they annoy on a daily basis. You met once at Zaxby's or you know their cousins cousin and now you have to wade through 17 updates a day because this asshole has made Foursquare their full time job. My advice? Accept the friend request and then delete them from your page in 4 days. (That's about how long it will take them to forget about you and your meeting). My best advice? Ignore the friend request altogether.
3. The CREEPY Friend Collector: He's creepy because you dont know him but you have a mutual friend. You look at his page to see if something will jog your memory but nothing does. Then you notice it. He has 956 friends and none of them are dudes. At first you're flattered that he thought you were pretty enough to add to his harem, but then you come back to your senses and realize you dont want any part of this STD laden freak. Hasta La Vista Douchebag..
4.The FaceBook Fakers: Oh, you know them...They make you want to shoot them in the face with an automatic weapon. The 'I love you so much, you make my life worth living, no one knows me/treats me/loves me the way you do' assholes. Seriously, stop gushing about your perfect love or you'll be gushing blood from your corotid, because im about to knife you. Best/worst part of it all? You know that they are truly one of the most disfunctional couples you've ever known or even seen on Springer. Facebook Tip: Hide them before they force you to kill them.
5. The Unshakeables: You've deleted them more than three times from your page and they just wont stop sending those friend requests. They 'like' every post and have an asinine comment for most all your status updates. You're constantly having to delete their comments from your pictures. They've friend requested everyone on your page and you're tired of having to explain how you know them and why you're friends with them. They are like ticks, only worse because you cant flush them down the toilet.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Baby Daddy Drama
Dear Spinning Bike at World Gym,
This letter is to inform you that during a particularly intense cadio workout today, im pretty sure you bruised my lady parts and quite possibly impregnated me. I have an appointment with my ob/gyn to get tested this coming Tues. Since I refuse to make my ass look any fatter by wearing padded bike shorts, im afraid this will be the end of our relationship.
Now, Im willing to overlook the swelling and discomfort, however, should the pregnancy test come back positive, I feel I should let you know i've decided not to have it. Chad would never accept a 10 speed as his own and we live in a small town. Everyone would talk. 'Did you know Misty Mills is having ANOTHER baby!?! Yeah, I hear the father is some bike she only rode one time at the gym...' Im just not strong enough. The world isnt ready for a love like ours.
I hope in time you'll be able to forgive me and put this ordeal behind you.
All of my love -
Misty
This letter is to inform you that during a particularly intense cadio workout today, im pretty sure you bruised my lady parts and quite possibly impregnated me. I have an appointment with my ob/gyn to get tested this coming Tues. Since I refuse to make my ass look any fatter by wearing padded bike shorts, im afraid this will be the end of our relationship.
Now, Im willing to overlook the swelling and discomfort, however, should the pregnancy test come back positive, I feel I should let you know i've decided not to have it. Chad would never accept a 10 speed as his own and we live in a small town. Everyone would talk. 'Did you know Misty Mills is having ANOTHER baby!?! Yeah, I hear the father is some bike she only rode one time at the gym...' Im just not strong enough. The world isnt ready for a love like ours.
I hope in time you'll be able to forgive me and put this ordeal behind you.
All of my love -
Misty
Monday, March 14, 2011
Before and After Shock
Rough day at the gym. Workout went off without a hitch but I decided to take my BEFORE pics today and that really came back to bite me in my dimply ass.
Before heading out of the dressing room, Rhonda and I stepped into a private area where all the modest folks change and pulled the curtain. Que nearly nude photo shoot, complete with giggling and ridiculous poses. (Clearly, this had to be done so that I may track my progress and not because we're creepy idiots.) Anyway, we do the photo deed and scamper off to 'get shredded'. (AKA - take turns pointing and laughing at each other as we do a few reps on the machine that works your inner thigh)
Enter dumb girl we went to highschool with. Rhonda's pretty much indifferent to her but I have never been a huge fan so let the stinkeye and petty picking apart of this girls entire existence commence.
Two hours later we're exhausted and I head to the locker room. Rhonda bails to tan for a few minutes, so Im alone.. I plop down on the bench with my back to the door and snag my phone from my locker. Check my texts, ignore some calls and decide to flip through the before pics to see just what im workin with. Bad call, Mills. Who walks up behind me just as I get to the pic of my bare, pasty ass and back fat? Oh yeah, Dumb Highschool Girl.
Im pretty sure I heard her gasp. Two possible scenarios: She realizes it was me and is wondering why im looking at naked pics of myself. Or, she didnt notice it was me and she thinks I was ogling pics of some other naked chick...*single tear*
Karma - 10, 976 Misty - 0
Before heading out of the dressing room, Rhonda and I stepped into a private area where all the modest folks change and pulled the curtain. Que nearly nude photo shoot, complete with giggling and ridiculous poses. (Clearly, this had to be done so that I may track my progress and not because we're creepy idiots.) Anyway, we do the photo deed and scamper off to 'get shredded'. (AKA - take turns pointing and laughing at each other as we do a few reps on the machine that works your inner thigh)
Enter dumb girl we went to highschool with. Rhonda's pretty much indifferent to her but I have never been a huge fan so let the stinkeye and petty picking apart of this girls entire existence commence.
Two hours later we're exhausted and I head to the locker room. Rhonda bails to tan for a few minutes, so Im alone.. I plop down on the bench with my back to the door and snag my phone from my locker. Check my texts, ignore some calls and decide to flip through the before pics to see just what im workin with. Bad call, Mills. Who walks up behind me just as I get to the pic of my bare, pasty ass and back fat? Oh yeah, Dumb Highschool Girl.
Im pretty sure I heard her gasp. Two possible scenarios: She realizes it was me and is wondering why im looking at naked pics of myself. Or, she didnt notice it was me and she thinks I was ogling pics of some other naked chick...*single tear*
Karma - 10, 976 Misty - 0
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Surviving the Death of Your Metabolism
I've forgotten what day we're on at the gym. It's all a blur of painful kettle bell exercises, treadmill accidents and strange looks from the gym staff.
Since I skipped the workout on my birthday and consumed somewhere in the ballpark of 27,000 calories, today it was back to business as usual. Back to bustin my arse so that my pants will no longer force me to choose between a muffin top or camel toe every single day. That's a hard decision that no one should ever have to make. (If you pull your jeans up over the muffin top, you have raging camel toe. Leave them down around the hips and boom, MT..) Now, rest assured, muffin top always wins, but lets be honest: NO one wins with muffin top.
Just recently they have laid out a giant rope in the kickboxing room of my gym (Biggest Loser style) and I know it's for exercising, but all I ever want to do is attempt double dutch with this thing. Bad idea. Rhonda makes me go first, of course, and even though being the guinea pig has literally caused me bodily injury and broken teeth in the past, I still agreed. (That's on me, I know.) After she gets them moving and I feel out a pretty good rhythm, I hop in. One of the ropes (about 2 friggin inches in diameter) hits me on the back of the neck and nearly snapped my spine. I called uncle and made her switch. Since Im incredibly strong and managed to get the ropes moving at a really nice arc for her to run through, she gets to the other side unscathed..That is until she runs face first into a heavy bag. BAM! IN THE FACE! Like she forgot there were 14 of these things hanging like a heavybag forest on the other side of the ropes. Oh well. We're both in pain, so it's officially time to move on.
To 'Giant Exercise Ball Vollyball' that is...She served up a pretty sweet lob and just as I was spiking it back across the room, some meat head comes in and looks at us like we're insane. He walks right over to the 45lb kettle bell weight and asks us if he can use it. Neither of us could pick it up off the ground. It might as well have been a VW bug sitting there. Oh well, we need to stop the shenanigans and start our work out for real, anyway.
A solid hour of cardio later, we'd successfully narrated an unsuspecting mans workout with porn voices Mystery Science Theater 2000 style, laughed in the face of a dude wearing water socks (river shoes) and a bright purple tank top and spit water out of our noses after seeing a small child fall backwards off the treadmill next to us. (she was fine, stop judging!)
Now, of course Im sorry the treadmill gods decided to take a child in my place today but I have no control over their wicked ways.. And you'd have laughed too if you saw it.
Since I skipped the workout on my birthday and consumed somewhere in the ballpark of 27,000 calories, today it was back to business as usual. Back to bustin my arse so that my pants will no longer force me to choose between a muffin top or camel toe every single day. That's a hard decision that no one should ever have to make. (If you pull your jeans up over the muffin top, you have raging camel toe. Leave them down around the hips and boom, MT..) Now, rest assured, muffin top always wins, but lets be honest: NO one wins with muffin top.
Just recently they have laid out a giant rope in the kickboxing room of my gym (Biggest Loser style) and I know it's for exercising, but all I ever want to do is attempt double dutch with this thing. Bad idea. Rhonda makes me go first, of course, and even though being the guinea pig has literally caused me bodily injury and broken teeth in the past, I still agreed. (That's on me, I know.) After she gets them moving and I feel out a pretty good rhythm, I hop in. One of the ropes (about 2 friggin inches in diameter) hits me on the back of the neck and nearly snapped my spine. I called uncle and made her switch. Since Im incredibly strong and managed to get the ropes moving at a really nice arc for her to run through, she gets to the other side unscathed..That is until she runs face first into a heavy bag. BAM! IN THE FACE! Like she forgot there were 14 of these things hanging like a heavybag forest on the other side of the ropes. Oh well. We're both in pain, so it's officially time to move on.
To 'Giant Exercise Ball Vollyball' that is...She served up a pretty sweet lob and just as I was spiking it back across the room, some meat head comes in and looks at us like we're insane. He walks right over to the 45lb kettle bell weight and asks us if he can use it. Neither of us could pick it up off the ground. It might as well have been a VW bug sitting there. Oh well, we need to stop the shenanigans and start our work out for real, anyway.
A solid hour of cardio later, we'd successfully narrated an unsuspecting mans workout with porn voices Mystery Science Theater 2000 style, laughed in the face of a dude wearing water socks (river shoes) and a bright purple tank top and spit water out of our noses after seeing a small child fall backwards off the treadmill next to us. (she was fine, stop judging!)
Now, of course Im sorry the treadmill gods decided to take a child in my place today but I have no control over their wicked ways.. And you'd have laughed too if you saw it.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Weight Loss Woes
Day 1: Procured a workout partner in crime. Rhonda has a membership to the same gym, so we agree to hold each other accountable. She shows me around a little. I mount an eliptical for the first time and end the session by flinging myself wildly off the back of said machine into an occupied treadmill. Damn it.
Day 2: Head to gym in stretchy pants and Chad's tshirt bc nothing else fits/conceals my giant ass. Sit backwards or sideways on most of the equipment. Severely strain my muffin top on one of the ab machines. Vow that the insanity stops here and to come back everyday until Im waif thin and buff enough to snap Chuck Norris' head off with my pinky.
Day 3: Get up early and head to the store to buy new workout clothes. I buy the least expensive pair of workout pants for two reasons. 1. they are gonna wear out QUICK due to the lack of steel reinforced mesh panels on the inner thigh. (Maybe they could use Kevlar instead, but i doubt it wicks away the moisture like you'd want it to and swamp ass is the worst.) 2. Hopefully I'll be dropping some lb's and will need a smaller size in the near future.
Day 4: Make pact with Rhonda to not buy any new clothes until we're able to buy a size that doesnt make us want to punch newborn babies in the face. She puts me in the sauna for first time. UGH! It's hot and there is nothing to do in that wooden box of hell fire. She gets tired of me spraying her in the face with the water bottle fairly quickly. Three minutes into it im dying and stripping like she's got a wad of singles in her sports bra. Oh, and we have to keep our underwear on or cover up with a towel? Would have been nice to know that before this nice lady came in. Hello ma'am. Please stop staring at my vagina.
Day 5: Fuck the gym.
Day 6: Hoping today would be the first day I didnt bust my ass on the treadmill. No such luck. 'Treadmill rash' is worse than road rash bc now im chubby and uncoordinated and bleeding. Cross your fingers it scabs nicely and heals clean. I cannot figure out why I feel the need to jump off the moving treadmill instead of pressing the stop button and waiting for it to slow. It's like my feet have ADD and just have to show their ass while we're in public. Maybe tomorrow's my day...
Day 2: Head to gym in stretchy pants and Chad's tshirt bc nothing else fits/conceals my giant ass. Sit backwards or sideways on most of the equipment. Severely strain my muffin top on one of the ab machines. Vow that the insanity stops here and to come back everyday until Im waif thin and buff enough to snap Chuck Norris' head off with my pinky.
Day 3: Get up early and head to the store to buy new workout clothes. I buy the least expensive pair of workout pants for two reasons. 1. they are gonna wear out QUICK due to the lack of steel reinforced mesh panels on the inner thigh. (Maybe they could use Kevlar instead, but i doubt it wicks away the moisture like you'd want it to and swamp ass is the worst.) 2. Hopefully I'll be dropping some lb's and will need a smaller size in the near future.
Day 4: Make pact with Rhonda to not buy any new clothes until we're able to buy a size that doesnt make us want to punch newborn babies in the face. She puts me in the sauna for first time. UGH! It's hot and there is nothing to do in that wooden box of hell fire. She gets tired of me spraying her in the face with the water bottle fairly quickly. Three minutes into it im dying and stripping like she's got a wad of singles in her sports bra. Oh, and we have to keep our underwear on or cover up with a towel? Would have been nice to know that before this nice lady came in. Hello ma'am. Please stop staring at my vagina.
Day 5: Fuck the gym.
Day 6: Hoping today would be the first day I didnt bust my ass on the treadmill. No such luck. 'Treadmill rash' is worse than road rash bc now im chubby and uncoordinated and bleeding. Cross your fingers it scabs nicely and heals clean. I cannot figure out why I feel the need to jump off the moving treadmill instead of pressing the stop button and waiting for it to slow. It's like my feet have ADD and just have to show their ass while we're in public. Maybe tomorrow's my day...
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