Multivitamin + Apple Cider Vinegar = Healthy

In the recent weeks, I have come to know a certain food blogger quite well and as a result of our relationship, and her CONSTANT nagging, I have decided to make a few "healthy" changes in regards to my diet. Most specifically, I have decided to take a multivitamin and ingest a few tablespoons of apple cider vinegar each evening.


While this may seem an easy task, the vinegar is grimace inducing and burns as it slowly travels across the walls of the esophagus. So, why the vinegar? Well, according to my father, it is quite healthy and because of the vinegar's harshness, it can be a fairly decent test of a male's masculinity. There are many fond memories which include the vinegar, one of which involved my brother and I seeing who could swallow the most without making a face. I had also considered including a clove of garlic in my "healthy" changes, however, I decided this would probably result in nagging of a different sort.

A Great Link to a Great Story!

I would like to encourage everyone to visit the link below...it's a great piece in the usually terrible Sacramento Bee!

http://www.sacbee.com/107/story/1374070.html

COWTOWN!!!

The air was brisk that morning and the anticipation of running for thirteen miles caused my heart to beat like the wings of a hummingbird (that means fast for those of you who might not be sure). My aunt and I stood, waiting for the race to begin, the smell of urine from the nearby urinals stinging our unfortunate nostrils; we were forced to the back so as not to get trampled by the faster and more experienced runners. She wore her tank top with pants, while I wore a t-shirt with my grandfather's face on it...her's was destroyed because of it's ill crafting on the part of my father. My newly purchased synthetic socks caressed my feet in ways I knew not possible and the pockets of my brother's shorts were filled with energy goo made by HEET (because they use more natural ingredients and goodness knows I put enough preservatives in my body), the taste of which I still did not know. As the race began, I realized I would probably miss high mass, a thought which was non too pleasing, but running the race and low mass would have to suffice for the missing incense and superb choir that would normally fill my nostrils and grace my ears. With "Macho, Macho Man" playing in my ears, the race began and all of us trampled forward like a herd of cattle. The first mile I found myself having difficulty getting in front of those slower people; by this time I left my aunt eating the dust and gravel I was kicking up with my new shoes purchased at Fleet Feet. Eventually, I found myself singing "Lay All Your Love on Me" and pulling ahead of the pack...I imagine the people around me were fairly glad I was passing them because of my awful singing (probably starting each one higher than I should be as I as told last Friday) and distracting arm movements (yes, I dance run...but that was nothing new to those of you who know me too well...). The first few miles were filled with the beautifully designed homes of William Land Park, their architecture was extremely pleasing and helped me forget I had many more miles to go. Eventually, I saw my parents and very happily waved in their direction all the while wondering how much longer it would take my aunt to get to the local I just passed. After running through the "projects" of Sacramento, an area in which I picked up the pace so as not to get shot or mugged or the like (okay, so maybe I was not worried at all, but I do like to embellish). Once the levy was reached I chewed on my first gel thingy which was quite delicious and tasted like raspberry jam! It was at this point that I realized I should have utilized the facilities because my bladder was hurting (I never seem to prepare for the water I chug before a race or movie for that matter). And after using the restroom, which was one of the most awkward experiences of my whole entire life, I continued on, ignoring the slight fatigue my legs were expressing. The river water was beautiful, reflecting the bright blue sky, it's surface dotted by a few docked boats. Then, at mile eight I experienced the WORST CRAMP OF MY LIFE...I pretty much thought I was going to die, but continued on so as not to renig on the promise to both my father and myself that I would not walk any portion of the race. At mile nine, I was praying for mile ten and the comfort I would find in the last gel I had in my pocket (I had to ration them as I had foolishly only brought two with me). Mile ten approached and I smiled with the prospect that the tropical goo would be tantalizing my taste buds with its slimy deliciousness. After its consumption I managed to cross paths with my aunt (we had to make a loop) and called out her name; she looked somewhat disoriented, but determined to finish the run. Here, we reentered the beautiful neighborhoods I was yet again revitalized, the beauty of my surroundings breathing new life into me. The last mile, I picked up the pace and with the end in sight I sprinted as if I was out running a cunning puma; I could hear my mother yelling out my name as I zoomed past her. This last bit was quite agonizing as I used every ounce of energy I had. In the end I ran an average 9:14 mile for a time of two hours and one minute...I was quite pleased as I simply wanted to stay around a ten minute mile. I must say, that the half marathon was quite amazing, and after its completion I was quite excited for the full marathon in December, though my aunt and I have decided we are going to both have our shirts professionally made because we can't be out of fashion while we run...

Just Because...

I think these are amazing, I think I will post them:

TOP TRADITIONAL CATHOLIC PICK UP LINES

1. May I offer you a light for that votive candle?

2. Hi there. My buddy and I were wondering if you would settle a dispute we're having. Do you think the word should be pronounced HOMEschooling, or homeSCHOOLing?

3. Sorry, but I couldn't help but noticing how cute you look in that ankle-length, shapeless, plaid jumper.

4. What's a nice girl like you doing at a First Saturday Rosary Cenacle like this?

5. You don't like the culture of death either? Wow! We have so much in common!

6. Let's get out of here. I know a much cozier little Catholic bookstore downtown.

7. I bet I can guess your confirmation name.

8. You've got stunning scapular-brown eyes.

9. Did you feel what I felt when we reached into the holy water font at the same time?

10. Confess here often?

11. Care to join me for bread and water at lunch on Friday? (eg during Lent or Advent).

12. In church shop: Would you help me pick out a holy card for my mother?

13. May I adjust that kneeler for you?

14. Do you follow the Mass in Latin or in English translation?

15. Would you care to join me for coffee on Sunday morning, say 15 minutes after Latin Mass in the Church Hall?

16. What's your favorite virtue?

17. How does fish and beer sound for dinner?

18. Do you always sing the Te Deum so sweetly?

19. Would you mind if I consecrate your lovely smile to the Blessed Mother?

20. Would you and at least two chaperons care to join me for dinner?

21. You're so cute when you try to keep your veil from sliding off!

22. I like your 10 younger brothers and sisters but I like you more.

23. Did you hear the same homily that I heard?

24. Care to take a ride in my 15 passenger van?

How Things Have Changed!

So, I've been thinking a lot lately, about how much things have changed in the last few years...especially the car of my dreams because it went from being this:




To this amazing vehicular which would be rolling up with hydraulic jacks and Gregorian chant thumping with bass on the highest setting:




Care to ride in my 15 passenger van?

MEATLOAF!

So, maybe, it was more like a meat mound, but I made meat loaf with mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli, and it was glorious.

The Saga of the Flat Tires

So, apparently, changing a flat is not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. You see, I was meaning to write about this a while ago, the owners of the apartment complex I used to live near, decided to rip the stucco off the building. As a result of such madness, I acquired two flat tires and managed to learn how to change a flat tire (which every man should know how to do so as to not embarrass themselves in front of any females). The first of the flats managed to cost me a whopping $95.00 because my brother decided to drive my car to Mass and destroyed the tire...he failed to check why, as he said, "Ryan, your car makes a funny noise when it drives." And the second of the flats, was a slow leak, so I was able to get it fixed before it needed to be replaced. To replace the flat tire with my spare, I simply jacked the car up, turned the screws loose on the tires and fitted the spare into place; it was amazingly simple, and I felt very skilled after replacing the tire.

The next day, after Mass, and before the AMAZING pig roast and square dance I attended at church after Vespers and Benediction, I went to get the flat fixed...this too was quite the experience! As I did not have a phone book, I entrusted my mother to find me a place that I could get my flat patched and, rather than call a Firestone or Big O' Tires or something reputable, she called the first business in the phone book. I pulled into the place and was instantly scarred to death because it was the most ghetto place ever! The business had a chain link fence with barbed wire around it and a bunch of old tires and old cars that looked abandoned and probably stolen. Anyway, they had me pull my car into the "back" and I stood in my tie and penny loafers and watched them change the tire (there was no waiting area). The toothless man who changed my tire did it with such speed and effortlessness, that I was worried he actually fixed the flat. He gave me a smile, tongue traveling between the gap in his teeth, and said it would be ten dollars. I asked if there would be tax (because in California we are taxed through our teeth) and he asked "You have cash?" I replied that I did and gave him eleven dollars (I figured a tip would save me from any shanking that may ensue). And without a look back, I sped off to Chipotle and bought a delicious chicken burrito...looking back, I can now say, though the place was a wee bit shady, the owners were very nice and I probably had nothing to worry about, but then again, asking me to not worry, is like asking me to not get a Slupee when I go to 7-11, and that is definitely not going to happen.

Why so Serious?

Because my bladder was about to explode!!! Oh my, I must say what relief I found after rushing out of The Dark Knight and finding the bathroom. As the story goes, I sat down after getting my large Icee, which is a bit of a movie tradition for me, I felt "the urge" to go, but decided to spare the poor people I had just passed (as the movie had just started) and try to hold it. And as many of you know, it's a LONG freaking movie, so, deciding to not use the facilities was not the brightest idea; however, I managed to survive and much to my bladder's chagrin, not miss a minute of the movie. But, I digress...

I found The Dark Knight, to be the darkest of all comic book movies and a VERY intense PG-13 film. I found the characters compelling and I was constantly pleased with the modern (and very believable) take on the Batman story; additionally, I loved Michael Cain as Alfred and Heath Ledger's performance was nothing short of genius! Maggie Gyllenhal, was twenty billion times better than that Scientology freak who once filled Rachael's now nonexistent shoes and Christian Bale continues to show why he is the best Batman yet. And I was very happy to see the continued moral code Batman refused to break, and was intrigued by the examination of crime, the ways to effectively fight it and the consequences of such. Overall, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it and will definitely have to watch it again, this time without the need to go to the bathroom, so as not to be doing the "potty dance" and leg twitch, which are both, ever so distracting!

Mamma Mia!: How I Loved the Show...

So, I just returned from Mamma Mia! and I must say, I L-O-V-E-D it! It was super fun and the music was great. Now, I just can't wait for tomorrow, when I get to see Batman: The Dark Night!

One...Two...Punched???

It was warm that evening, the air at work was not working, as usual, and my freshly tanned skin was moist with perspiration. I had just returned from a brisk walk down to Savemart on my break to buy some popsicles and was delighted with my purchase; push pops, fudgesicles and a big bag of cheap popsicles filled my brown paper bag. After some time, during which, Sammy, Jessica, and I had our fair share of frozen treats, two girls with large purses approached me.
"Where's your bathroom," they asked very rudely.
Catching onto their game, one that was all to familiar, I quickly responded, "We don't have a public restroom."
"Then why have I used it before," replied one of the girls.
"I don't know because we don't have a public restroom, it's for employees only!" I retorted, but they also knew the routine and despite my insistence on our lacking a public restroom, they continued to push until I finally I asked them if they wanted to talk to a manager. This of course didn't help the situation. My face was beginning to grow flush, as it usually does when I am embarrassed or frustrated, and they began making cat-calls and telling me, "Don't get all upset Tom! Just calm down Tom." I figured this was some racial slur which I had yet to learn, but simply ignored it.
Eventually, they walked away, continually talking about the fact that I wouldn't tell them where the restroom was because they were black. And after returning some unwanted merchandise to their respective places in the store, I noticed another girl, also with a very large purse, acting very strangely. And, as was usual protocol, I began watching her; unbeknown to me she was with a large group of people, including the two girls who approached me earlier.
And as the night continually got better with each passing moment, two other girls in her group began saying they needed to "stink up the bathroom," and "make an explosion in the toilet." Now, if they thought I was going to tell them where the bathroom was so they could drop a stink bomb in it or steal merchandise, whichever was their true motive, they were crazy! But, before they could ask me, two of the rude girls from before said that I wouldn't let them because I was nothing but a "prick!" As, I was still upset from the way I had been treated earlier, and looking for a reason to throw them out of the store I quickly walked over and said "If you are going to call me names, you can get out right now!"
And as before, they began saying "It ain't no big deal Tom, calm down, Tom." And, not allowing myself to be walked all over, I continued to tell them to get out of the store. I suppose it was at this point, my heart pounding rapidly, and my face growing flush again, that I neglected to notice their boyfriend walking up to me. He was taller than I was, wore baggy jeans and as if to make himself appear more wealthy than he actually was (he wasn't fooling anyone), a t-shirt with dollar signs all over it. He started speaking in ebonics, a language which I have yet to fully understand, and said menacingly while hopping in my direction, "What's up cuz?" I told him what was "up" and told him if he didn't leave, then I would be calling someone to make him leave. Well, once again, my mouth had gotten the best of me and before I knew it his hand was in my face. And despite his great effort to knock me out cold, I continued to yell at him to get out of the store.
Once reaching a phone at the front register, all the while the girls calling me foul names and the loser still trying to get me to fight back, I called my manager to call the police. Eventually, after they saw that I was getting a hold of the authorities, they zoomed off in their little Jeep Liberty. As I watched them drive off and feel my face beginning to turn red, I spoke to the 911 operator and told her what happened.
And upon helping her last customer, Sammy rushed over to assess the damage. Her hand was cold as it touched my inflamed face. Being caught in a moment of passion and distress (fearing my life would be cut short by the group of gang bangers that was going to shoot me in retaliation), I grabbed her in my arms and pressed my lips against hers; they were soft and tasted sweet like the cherry chap stick she had just put on. And it felt so wrong, it felt so right, don't mean I'm in love tonight!
Okay, so maybe that last bit was a bit of an exaggeration...I did not take Sammy in my arms (though now looking back it sounds like it would have been a really good idea and muy rico suave), and I did not break out into song, singing Katy Perry's, "I Kissed a Girl," (though that would have been rather hysterical)...Instead, I simply ran to the back, reached into the freezer and began eating a cherry flavored popsicle.

Full Steam Ahead on the Word Train

It seemed quite clear a while ago, that I needed to jump on the blogging bandwagon my friends had so quickly caught and begin writing my own online tirades; however, as usual, I boarded the word train a little behind the rest. Hopefully my friends (who I know will probably not read this until a few weeks or months after my writing it because of the sloth like pace I will acquire when notifying them of its creation) will forgive of such tardiness and begin reading it religiously because of the horribly interesting things I will post...who am I kidding, my life is not nearly that exciting! Anyway, as I have not spoken to many of them lately, I will begin my blog by giving them a brief update.

As of late, life has been fairly interesting. Most recently I cut all off my luscious locks and now have very short hair (I am still trying to decide if this was a good idea). I completed my pharmacy technician classes and received a passing score on my test and am now waiting on the state to approve my license....and we all know how quickly the government responds to such requests. This is of course an excellent thing because I have been stirring up trouble for myself in the front end of the store by being overzealous and too protective of the store's merchandise. Briefly put, such courage resulted in my being assaulted, i.e., punched in the face....but all in a day's work at Rite Aid I guess...

Fourth of July was fun, I made pomegranate popsicles, a family tradition since 2007, and my cousin blasted the Star Spangled Banner on his trombone in my aunt's front yard in order to commence the firework show. This year he was a bit shaky and as a result, my father and I proudly (and quite beautifully I might add) sang what portions of the song we knew; so wonderfully in fact, that I am nearly certain the neighborhood cats and dogs decided to join in with their harsh hissing and melancholy howling.

Alas, I have no more words, and my eyes are getting droopy...so, I suppose I will make this the end of my first post.