Never Eat More Than You Can Lift

I am obsessive and compulsive, but not obsessive-compulsive. Thanks for sharing in my obsessions with me.
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Go For the Gold

“We go for the gold. We go for the best we can. We reach with our hearts. Our destiny’s in our hands. We give our most, our best, our brightest light. We go for the gold. Honor and pride, dignity and truth. These are the triumphs, the triumphs of reaching for the gold.”

-Teresa Jennings


I never got to go to the ‘96 Atlanta Olympics, which is one of the biggest disappointments of my life. Some of the events were even held in Birmingham, where I live! My dad went to some events. Maybe it was for the best that I didn’t go. It gives me a dream to look forward to. And there was a bombing incident. I was about to graduate from fifth grade. I got to participate in our school ceremonies. At school we had our own opening ceremonies. I got to run the “torch” from one corner of the gym to another to pass it on to the next torch carrier. There were four of us fifth graders who carried the torch. We also had t-shirts. Then the fifth graders got to sing a song called “We Go for the Gold,” and a few of us with “golden” voices got to sing the harmony. That was the beginning of my singing career. I still remember a lot of the words. That song was actually written for the purpose of school children singing it during their schools’ Olympic ceremonies. I felt so cool after all of that. I still have the t-shirt. Obviously, I don’t still fit in it, but I can’t get rid of it! Maybe I could wear it as a cropped top. I was awesome in that shirt. I did get to see the real torch being run down Hwy 31 through Homewood. I don’t know who the runner was, but my dog Sophie photo-bombed the picture of him. After our school ceremonies, the whole school went outside and made the Olympic rings while holding up papers in the right colors while a teacher stood on top of a huge ladder and took our picture. It was glorious. 


Reblogged from elizabethbanks


Cannot handle the amazingness that is this trailer. 


I don’t believe in psychics or fortune tellers, but I have known the outcomes of several situations, before they happened. You know how people look at someone and know that they will be together forever? Well, it’s like that, but less serious.

I have a very vivid memory of this super attractive guy walking into the cafeteria one day my freshman year. I just knew that he would be a part of my life, in some capacity. But, Ginny, my sorority sister and temporary friend, had a crush on him. There was a whole debacle in which Ginny wanted to ask him to our formal, but someone set him up with my big sister Ashley, who had just broken up with her boyfriend. Ashley didn’t want to go with this handsome guy, so I assisted in mediating and getting him set up with Ginny. Even when he was dancing with Ginny, and my adorable date, who I was seriously crushing, I knew that there was something about this boy. The next year he was in my Physics class and sat behind me. I relished the times that we had to turn around and work with the people behind us. But, somehow, I started casually dating a frat guy in the class (I have no problem with fraternities, unless they are specifically told only to date girls of one sorority. And, when the frat guy goes along with that, he sucks as a person). I guess I thought that I wasn’t good looking enough for my physics friend, but I still wasn’t willing to give up on him. As soon as things we sour with the frat guy, I asked my physics buddy to formal. Ginny had given up on him and was okay with the situation. He was my date to a few of our sorority parties, and we had good times. His dance to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” involved miming pouring sugar on me. He was studly, but nerdy. We hung out a lot, at cheese fries at the best cheap late night college hangout in town, and he would pay. He had never seen the Harry Potter movies, so I schooled him in Potter. He even called me when he hadn’t seen me for a while, because I was home sick. One night, after a party, some of our other friends were planning on watching Love Actually. We were invited, but my friend asked me if we could watch it just the two of us. We sat on my bed, laughing and cheering for the characters, and sharing a bit of a cuddle. My twin bed was up against the wall between my room and my suitemate Kelli’s room. Her bed was pushed up against the other side of that thin wall. So, if we moved, we bumped the wall. We also laughed and talked sort of loudly, ‘cause that’s how we do. I remember Kelli telling me the next day that she woke up thinking we were doing the nasty. I’m a pretty good at stalking people without crossing the creepy line, so we ran into each other all over the campus, in the caf, to and from classes, even in the parking lot. I once saw his car parked in his tiny hometown during the summer when my friends and I were there to go to an amazing store called Unclaimed Baggage. I swear, that was purely coincidental. The last time I saw him was after his graduation. We were chatting, saying what would have been our good byes, but I was interrupted by this kid I was in show choir with who was there because his brother was also graduating. I didn’t even really like this kid, and I definitely did not like his brother. My friend was pulled away by his friends and family while I was politely speaking with this tool from Homewood. That was the last I saw of him. We sent each other Facebook messages for a little while, mostly on birthdays, but it was over. Even though we were never a couple or dating for real, my premonition was right, he was in my life. And, he was super hot.

I had two premonitions when I was a flight attendant. One was with this guy I was flying with, Mike. We were both on board early, he was eating his chicken nuggets, and we chatted. I don’t remember what we said, but I knew something would happen. We flew to Lima, Peru on December 30th, and left there just after midnight on New Year’s Day. Three of us on the crew were pretty young, so we hung out, and decided to go to the hotel casino and then to a club. The other guy we were hanging out with told me that my dress was way too long for Peru. It was above the knee. He pulled off his belt and did a quick makeover, belting my dress and pulling it up so that the belt held up the top half, and the bottom half was much shorter. Voila! Instant makeover ready for Latin America. I was getting pretty intoxicated, so I relied on the boys to make sure we stayed in safe areas and made it back to the hotel without any violations, if you know what I mean. It turns out I did my own violating. We ended up at a gay bar that was chosen by our bi-sexual coworker. The girls were hitting on me, the guys were hitting on Mike, and he and I were hitting on each other. The guy we were with was a bit upset that no one was hitting on him, especially since he had no preference as to gender! He also warned me not to hook up with co workers, but who listens to that? I’m pretty sure I mooned the whole bar with my super short Latina-like dress, but it’s okay because I was wearing my fancy underwear. We had a fabulous weekend! The three of us went to an authentic restaurant in the city where we did not eat goat. I really did not feel up to eating goat. We bought some illegal DVDs (five for a dollar!) at a big market. We almost died about a hundred times during our cab rides. I got a massage at the hotel spa, the only time I’ve ever had a real massage. And, Mike and I spent time together, just like I predicted. We went out to eat at a chain restaurant that we have in the US, because it was just the two of us, and I couldn’t tell which ones were serving goat! I probably should have asked what the word for goat was before we left our other Spanish speaker. But, our view from the restaurant was amazing. It was a part of a mall built into the side of a cliff that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. As we ate, the sun set, and I don’t ever want to forget that time. We came back to Newark and continued to see each other for a while. It’s really hard to match schedules when you don’t know what country you will be in tomorrow. We had dinner and saw a couple of movies together (The Hangover, which was good, and Bride Wars, which was horrible). It’s also hard to be alone when you share your bedroom with two other people, you have to wait until they are both gone. After two or three dates in America, things started to peter out. We kept chatting online, but we both took leaves that were being offered, and we ended up thousands of miles away. I saw him again across the airport, but I couldn’t get to him. That’s okay, We’ll always have Peru, even though I always say “what happens in Peru, stays in Peru.”

The next time I had a psychic moment was at a bar, and the whole community had come out to celebrate our van driver’s birthday. Petey was weird, and obnoxious, and a wonderful man beloved by most people. I had a crash pad in Bayonne, NJ. There were tons of apartments that were only for employees at the Newark airport. Who else in their right mind would live eight people to a two room apartment smaller than two bedrooms in my mother’s house? And, we are talking New Jersey, not Manhattan. When you’re gone a lot, it’s not as big of a deal. Petey was one of the van drivers that took us from our crash pads to the airport. So, we were all at The Venice, my favorite restaurant in Bayonne, celebrating Pete. Suddenly, I looked across the room, and saw a hottie, and knew that something was going to happen. I knew he had seen me, too, and we made eyes at each other all night. I told one of my friends that I thought that boy was cute. She agreed. When I’ve been drinking, I try to get opinions from people I trust. I had way too much to drink that night, while knowing that I was on call that next day. I had forgotten to make good choices. But, when I went outside to leave, I ran into super hottie, whose name I could not tell you, because I don’t remember it. We chatted about something I don’t remember. He was with the group of Irish kids who had come there to worked for Lufthansa on their ground crew, so his accent was adorable, and I hoped he was at least 21. I’m not sure how it happened, but we started making out! Once again, I was right. It was winter and about a million degrees below zero, but we were pretty close, so it only felt like half a million degrees below zero. At this point, I had started to feel a bit ill. Irish boy asked to come back to my place, since his place was overrun with what I’m assuming were leprechauns. I was about to be sick, even though I didn’t know why, because I had been careful not to mix the wrong drinks, and I didn’t feel drunk until I started to leave. But, it was going to happen, and I preferred to be sick alone. I saw Irish boy again once in a crowded van. He got off at a different terminal than I did, so we didn’t get to speak again.

The only problem with this psychic bit of mine is that it has not helped me in my life’s goals. I’ve learned from these experiences, but most of them were short and not life-changing. Why couldn’t I spot the man I will marry? Or a signal for what job or career path I should take? Don’t get me wrong, making out with a random Irish kid in the freezing cold was awesome and gave me confidence, but it didn’t point me in any direction. What’s next for me?

Reblogged from fight4future
Reblogged from fight4future