Sunday, April 12, 2015

Tracking Myself

The new fitness tracker I ordered in January finally arrived last week. This model is wicked pissah cool because 1) it's plum/purplely in color and 2) it tracks heart rate.

Heart rate tracking is a necessity. Oh sure, calories burned, flights of stairs climbed, steps taken - all important. But how else do you know you are alive other than your heart rate. You could be wearing your tracker and be pushed down a flight of stairs. You'll get the credit for that flight, but at the end of the day, who cares if you are not conscious and/or alive to brag about it.

Have you ever been in a really long boring meeting at work? And you've said to yourself "Aghh! This meeting is killing me!" ? Well, now you can know for sure. If you are looking at your tracker and see your heart rate starting to fall to say 25 beats per minute or so, you better move your arse out of that chair and get the hell out of the room. Because yes, that meeting is definitely killing you.

The opposite holds true on your morning commute. When you see your heart rate soar to 250, you know it's time to pull off at the nearest rest stop for a Dunkies iced coffee. Decaf would most likely be the best choice in this situation.


Right now I'm calm as a cucumber. Even after running up the stairs to get my phone, I'm in the zone baby. Either that, or my tracker is flirting with me.








Saturday, April 11, 2015

I Recall, Junk Food Does Not

Let's see here. Thinking, thinking….

Do I want the recalled hummus or do I prefer the recalled organic frozen food entree with the spinach? That would depend on how I like my Listeria monocytogenes. Hot or cold?

The food shown on the left is sitting in the pantry right now. It does not need refrigeration and it will last for at least a year. I mean, of course it will be gone within a week or two, but theoretically it could last a long time.  More importantly, it does not contain any rod shaped bacterium that will induce sepsis upon ingestion. It contains sugar which will make me quite happy and high for 20 minutes, followed by an emotional crash and an inch of fat jumping on to my ass. 

The point being, junk food does not get recalled. Plus it was all buy one get one after Easter. We're smart shoppers in this household.



To be clear, I don't eat junk food all the time. I work out and try to live a somewhat healthy lifestyle. I even used to own a juicer. I gave it away though as the wrappers kept clogging up the pulp filter.

Have a happy, healthy Saturday :)


Saturday, January 31, 2015

If You Think It, It Must Be

Have you ever tried using positive psychology on yourself when you are in an uncomfortable situation? For example, when stuck in traffic during the work commute do you ever say either aloud or in your head "I love my job, I love my job" ?

Prior to the snownami we were supposed to have last week we were in BJ's Wholesale Club picking up some extra supplies. You know, important stuff like 100 rolls of toilet paper, 10 packs of deodorant, and 120 ounce bottles of body lotion. Needless to say everyone else in western Massachusetts had the same idea. The store was packed. The checkout lines weaved around the registrars and down the aisles.

There I was trying to convince myself that it wasn't crowded, that the lines would move quickly, and that the urge to strangle people was only temporary. And in my head I heard "I love BJ's, I love BJ's". Positive psychology is a bunch of bullshit isn't it?

Friday, January 2, 2015

Plug This

I have too many cords. There's the cord to charge my personal laptop and the cord to charge my work laptop. There's a cord for my iPhone and one for my iPad. There's a cord for the keyboard that works with the iPad. There's a cord for the e-reader. There's a cord to charge the phone in the car. The cord for my new iPhone does not match the cord for my old iPhone. Same for the iPad. Add two more. You're getting my drift. And right about now you are wishing you could unplug me.

Below is the new and more descriptive definition of "cord":


Cord

/kôrd/

noun

1. A string like object encased in a plastic that houses electrical wires used for charging all your must have devices. Cords are many times unique to the object for which they were designed. Therefore, your typical household will accumulate 7000 to 10,000 cords over the span of five years. Cords have the ability to form complicated twists, turns, and knots with themselves and other cords if placed in a drawer overnight. Cords also have exceptional timing and will hide themselves right before you need them, especially if you are running late to work or an appointment. Cords mock you when you are not looking. They know that without them, you cannot power your FaceBook, Twitter, and Pintrest addictions. They are also aware that you will never dispose of them. Because at some point after they have outlived their usefulness, you will move them to a plastic storage bin where they will live in your attic or cellar for the duration of time. 

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Yes, But Emotionally I'm Only Twelve

Don’t you hate when someone asks you to guess how old she is? In my head I’m thinking “I don’t know. Eighty, eighty-five? You had 7 kids. And it shows.” My filter then engages and I give my best lowball guess.

When someone asks me how old I am and I tell them that I turned fifty a few months back, I usually get a “No way! I would have said you are _____!”. That makes me happy. Except when they fill in the blank with a stupid number like 45. Because if you are going to tell me that I don’t look my age, don’t tell me I look my age minus five years. That’s a back-handed compliment. It’s similar to when you say you like my haircut and then tell me you had the same style - in 1987. Nice, real nice. And stop staring at my argyle sweater.

Please remember that fifty is the new forty, forty is the new thirty, thirty is the new twenty. And if you are ten, you have not actually been born yet so stop whining about everything. You’ll get your chance soon enough. 

Sunday, November 23, 2014

I Will Break The Seal


Sealed for my protection? That's great. Thank you for doing that. I'll just peel the paper right off and pop a couple of these fish oil pills. After all, have to keep that good cholesterol level going strong.


Oops. Looks like that didn't work. Gosh darn it all. I'm tired, had a few beers, and all I really want to do is take these pills and hit the rack. What to do, what to do? Tweezers! Tweezers will work.  I'll just make a nice little hole in the middle and pull from there.



Or maybe I'll just rip the shit out of this seal for giving me such a freaking hassle at bed time.  A sealed lid, under which the pills hid, should not mess with this tired kid. Sleep tight!


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Your GPS Hates Boston


Driving around the suburbs of Boston last night, I remembered why I wanted to move to western Massachusetts and get the heck out of the city.  Please see above picture. That is what your GPS route will look like if you try to navigate from Waltham to Newton and then to the Mass Pike.

And this is how your GPS will sound:

  • In 500 feet, prepare to keep right.
  • Change of plans, prepare to keep left.
  • Shit. Left lane has suddenly disappeared off the satellite. Just keep going straight.
  • In 2 miles, prepare to exit the highway at Exit 22, 23, 24 to Route 90 Mass Pike westbound.
  • Did I mention it is a left lane exit and you are in a right turn only lane?
  • Where the fuck did the exit go? Route re-calculation.
  • Accident reported ahead. Estimated delay of 4 hours.
  • You look like you have to pee. Shall I find a rest stop?
  • Why are you crying?
  • I told you not to drive home at night in the rain from Boston.
  • What did you call me?