I'm a Superstar!

Yesterday I competed in the JDRF Spin to Win at Daley Plaza. Teams of five riders rode the bike for eight minutes each. Eight minutes doesn't sound like a long time, BUT IT IS! It was a fun event and I got some extra cardio in.

Who would have thought that my first time on t.v. I would be struggling and sweaty?! Please click here to watch a clip from the NBC5 News. You can see me near the end smiling while my legs slowly make the rotations. I just want to say that I did work out that morning and I did spend the whole hour doing squats and lunges. Otherwise I would have looked like the Bally's rider at the end of the clip. You'll also notice that I'm not wearing spandex. Had I been wearing spandex like the Bally's guy I would have been super fast! Spandex makes everything better.

All in all, I learned that I need to start training on the bike for this triathalon.

Can You Say BOIL?

"Oh Piper, you're so cute! Isn't she just adorable? Angie, she totally has your big brown eyes. You should really think about having Piper model in catalogs and save up money for college."

Piper points to her chin. "That's right! Chin. It's your chin! Good!" Piper then points to my chin and places her pointer finger right on the enormous boil I have forming on my face. She looks at me with eyes that ask, "Wha happen?" "Can you say BOIL? It's a boil Piper. Say BOY-EE-ALL. On second thought, you're not as cute as I thought you were."

And there you have my wedding weekend in Minnesota! Actually, it was a wonderful weekend celebrating my cousin, Stacy, and her wedding to Taylor. Gor-jess! I loved that it took place in a beautiful old library. I snuck around and felt like I could have been in a Harry Potter movie. I also liked that she walked down the aisle to George Harrison's "Here Comes the Sun." Each table was given a name so you knew where you were sitting. I sat at the "Fitzgerald" table. I loved the idea because I enjoy reading the classics. I only have a few pages left of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations. Look how I brag! I know most of you read it in 8th grade but did you really appreciate it? I'm scared I'll turn into Miss Havisham.

We danced the night away and I'm pretty sure I had the best moves on the floor. I bet my moves would have been even more impressive had my corsette top dress not isolated my sugar bloatation and made my lower abs stick out. Such pain! How did women do it back in the day? No wonder they died so young.

I leave in a few days for Montana! I'm going fly fishing for three days with my brother, sister-in-law and dad. I LOVE it and can't wait to get out of the city! Last year I only saw one other woman fishing and that was on the last day. What does that say about me? It says that I'm a man's dream come true!...she says to herself. So miss me while I'm gone!

I'll post pictures from the wedding when I have a chance. You can see the boil in full effect.

Seconds Time's a Charm?

Last summer I signed up for the Pleasant Prairie Triathalon and let my $98 registration fee go to waste because I was too busy and having too much fun to even think about exercising! But this summer is different! I'm not busy and I refuse to have any fun this summer. Those are my summer rules. Instead, I'm going to eat cardboard and exercise to the point of serious dehydration. I'm going to sweat my pores clean and enjoy picking the blisters off my toes. I'll polish the skin where my toenails used to rest and I'll love every second of it! This is the summer of discipline! Whooooooooooo's with meeeeeeeeeeeeee!? *awkard moment* Anyone? Bueller? Yes Melissa, I see you in the back. It looks like it's just me and my old roommate. FANTASTIC!

I can't wait to squish my thighs into a wetsuit and pray to God that I can make it the .75 kilometers of the swim. Five years ago I completed my first sprint triathalon one hour after eating a burrito*. Surely this triathalon will be a better experience.

*burrito story: I was in charge of the women's triathlete specialty at K-Klassic Kamp. Basically it meant that I was a cheerleader who happen to exercise with the kampers daily. At the end of each term we held a sprint triathalon for all the triathlete kampers. According to Dan, the man, I was going to be cheering instead of competing. It wasn't until the burrito was on its way to a rough digestion that I was informed that I would be competing in less than an hours time.

NOTE: Kanakuk Kamps spells everything with a "k." It's not just my poor spelling.

Better Luck Next Year

Can't. Talk. Mavs. Lost. Heart. Hurt. So. Bad.

Quote of the Day

In conversation with a good friends husband:

"Wait. She's quoting scripture to me again. She likes to do that. Sometimes it can get really awkward; especially during sex."

Cyst

I think I have cystic acne-itis. It hasn't been diagnosed by a doctor but it's been diagnosed by ME! Never heard of it? That's because I just made it up. After sharing with my friends my battle stories with teenage acne a revelation occured. Each one of my friends who has turned 30 admitted that their skin went psycho, out of control, payback for the blue eyeshadow we made it go through in 7th grade. This is such a comfort!

I think I would rather have a bullet wound to the knee cap than reverberating pain of trying to pop a zit that doesn't want to be popped.

Have you ever looked up the word cyst? Well I just did. This is what's all over my face:

Pathology. An abnormal membranous sac containing a gaseous, liquid, or semisolid substance.
Anatomy. A sac or vesicle in the body.
Biology. A small capsulelike sac that encloses certain organisms in their dormant or larval stage.
Botany. A thick-walled resting spore, as in certain algae or fungi.

So basically I have an enormous, membranous, larval, resting spore on my face. And it's mad hot, hot mad!

History of Rebirth

I must post this poster created by Jason's friend, Liz, of our Rebirth cast. It's just too funny. We wondered why he wanted all these pictures of our faces. Ah ha! Bravo! Bravo!





















I will not be bleaching these brunette locks anytime soon.

Katy's Inconvenient Truth

I've heard great things about Al Gore's new movie, An Inconvenient Truth. I saw the previews for the movie and I can tell you that I probably won't see it. I'm sure that as a resident of this earth it's my duty to go see a movie that discusses the destruction of this planet because of the way we live, but the previews scare me. I'm afraid I'll walk away frightened that the earth will collapse at any moment. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by difficult situations or tragedies and I freeze. I adopt the "all or nothing" mentality. Sadly I sometimes think that if I can't save everything then I won't try and save anything. I think I just talked myself into going to see this movie. I'd rather see Nacho Libre.
















There's something about a man in tattered long johns. Now if we could get Al Gore in tattered long johns, that would be a movie!

I have an inconvenient truth for the people in my office. You know that can of aerosol spray that you keep in the bathroom? The one that's placed on the lone bathroom's sink? The one bathroom that's placed near the kitchen and provides an air path to our cubicals? It's depleting the ozone layer. And it's slowly killing me! I can't stand spray. FOR THE LOVE! Light a match! Or may I recommend using the building bathroom down the hall? That spray is toxic and it makes me unable to breathe. It closes off my windpipe and then brings thoughts of poisonous air. I hate smells. Never ask me to smell anything other than nature's flowers or fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. If you ask you'll just get a tight lipped shake of the head.

My roommates and I are trying to do our part for the eco-system. We're using the blue bag recycling system here in Chicago. I keep forgetting what we can recycle and which bag is for which material. We taped a list on top of our trash can so I'll remember. So far it's not helping. I'm visual. I need pictures. Maybe I'll print up pictures of what we recycle.

Pictures from The Phoenician

My room! All to myself! And this is only half of it.















I could have spent a week in this bathroom pampering myself. I have to applaude the water pressure. My apartment shower is more like being spit upon.















A room with a view!

You know the place is pretty incredible when you take pictures within the first 5 seconds of arriving. THANK YOU PHOENICIAN! I'm sensing a spa retreat weekend with the ladies!

The Phoenician

After checking into the hotel on Sunday night I took my key and looked at the envelope that came with it. There's a line where it says the name of the person staying in the room. Erin, who I travelled with, rolled her eyes as she mentioned that they called her "Miss." I had the upper hand on that story. They called me "Mr."

Sometimes I don't get what I deserve and then there are times when I get more than I deserve. After complaining for two months that I HAD to attend a work conference, in Phoenix, in the summer, my mouth finally shut...or maybe it would be more appropriate to say that it fell open to the floor. We pulled up to The Phoenician and my complaining stopped immediately. How did I not know we were staying at such a fantastic place and why did I not come here earlier in the weekend to enjoy everything?

Somehow at check-in I was upgraded to a suite. My room was bigger than my apartment and my balcony could host a 50 person cocktail party. I'll post views of the room and from the balcony soon. It was jaw dropping gorgeous. AND my bathroom was an enormous marble dream. THAT's what I call a work conference. I'll have to visit when my trip doesn't include 8-5 meetings.

Dallas Mav's

I want to give a shout out to my home team, The Dallas Mavericks! The fact that they are going to the NBA finals is unbelievable! It looks like Mark Cuban brought more to Dallas and the NBA than just his eccentricities. Kudos to you Mark! Your fanatical spirit caught on in a city that thought basketball had died.

Mavericks, you've come a long way since the days of Roy Tarpley. I wonder what ever happened to Roy Tarpley. I just looked him up and it says that he's now with the Michigan Mayhem in some Continental Basketball Association.

















Roy, you're remembered more for your drug habit than your basketball skills in Dallas.

I have to brag for a second. Well, it's not really bragging as much as it is name dropping. Rolando Blackman and Mark Aguirre (not McGuire) lived in my neighborhood. Once, Mark came over to my parents house and played a game of pick up basketball with Patrick and his friends. It's like so cool, I know. What? You don't remember Rolando Blackman and Mark Aguirre? They were drafted in 1980/81? Am I going to have to hunt down pictures so you'll remember them?








This tiny head is now the Assistant coach to the New York Knicks





















The Jordan of Dallas

Rolando is now the Assistant coach to the Mavericks. It looks like his dreams are coming true. Miracles do happen. We need to be patient enough to seem them and remember that our timing is not always God's timing. Also, our definition of success isn't always God's either. Thank you Rolando for helping us learn that lesson.

I feel waves of jealousy that my family gets to see the game tonight. It hurts! But I'm happy for them. Go Mavs! Some day I hope to meet these guys!

Post Secret & Found Magazine

Friday night I went to a reading of PostSecret.com and Found Magazine at the Intuit Art Gallery. It was fantastic! If you've never looked at these sites or read the books, PLEASE DO! Check to see if they are coming to your city because the readings are hilarious, sad and just plain wonderful!

PostSecret.com will be in Houston on June 6th and Austin on June 7th.

Love Lost

Today all hope of love is lost.

Nearly three months ago my roommate, Janell, was given a beta fish as a gift from a bride. The bride said that this fish was a symbol of hope for love. When the bride was single and new to the city she bought a beta fish. She had an understanding with God that the beta fish would live until she met her future husband. The day she met her now husband the fish died.

We named the crimson fish Mawiage. His name was in honor of the movie, "The Princess Bride." That's the ultimate story of love against all odds. And who doesn't love a priest with a speech impediment? Mawiage graced our kitchen table and often kept me company during breakfast. He quickly became an endearing joke to us and our friends.

Sadly Mawiage died today. After a run in Lincoln Park we came home to discover him laying on the rocks in his clear bowl. We all couldn't help mourning his death but we were probably mourning the loss of our hope for great love even more.

Mawiage is now swimming in beta fish heaven, more commonly known as the Chicago sewage system. After a few prayers for hope we flushed him down the toilet. Now I have a fear that when I go to the bathroom he'll suddenly come back. I think I'll use Jessie's bathroom for a while.

Texas Summers

I am not 15 anymore. This was made clear to me the other day after riding a wave runner multiple times on a windy and rough watered lake. The entire right side of my body is aching. I thought at one point that I must have slipped a disk. That's what people over the age of 30 do, they slip disks. I remember when I used to be able to slalom for 15 minutes at a time and barely break a sweat. Now I get jarred a few times by the waves and I think I've broken something...or everything. But it was so worth it!

I am concocting a plan of how I can spend my entire summer at my parents lake house and still get paid.














Who wouldn't want to stay here all summer?

I admit that I have experienced jealousy pangs of my little brother just beginning his three months of summer. Do you remember those days of studying hard for hours and days to make good grades on your finals and then suddenly you're done? The feeling of driving around in Bunny's old red blazer with the windows down and singing at the top of our lungs to Ace of Base's "All That She Wants is Another Baby" and realizing that we're done...DONE...can hardly be beat. All the summers held for me were a month of kamp (heaven on earth), cheerleading slumber parties and driving my friends in my cherry red 1992 Toyota Celica. Ahhhhhh, Texas summer nights.

Maybe I should become a teacher. I'm not sure what I would teach. I love art history but that would mean teaching at a collegiate level. Collegiate level = summer classes. Hmmmm, maybe not.

Another thing I love about Texas summers is the feeling of walking inside and feeling the blast of cold air on a 100 degree day. Then there's the thawing out as you leave the ice box buildings and step into the heat. Fresh cut grass, cold lemonade, icy watermelon, cookouts, luke warm pools, baseball games on the radio, cicadas, cold dark movie theaters, lightening bugs, sunburned skin, no makeup, slapping of bare feet on hot cement, 9:00 p.m. sunsets, late night ice cream runs...all of these are a part of my childhood. This past weekend made us feel like kids again.

Or lab rats...