Archive for the 'Me, Me, Me' Category

These Parties Aren’t Like Those Parties

Patrick and I got evited to a party taking place on an upcoming Saturday night and after responding affirmative to being there we carefully planned our timed escape. Not that we don’t love an hour long Metro ride to a one-bathroom townhouse in DC crammed with lawyers but I think we have something else planned that night. Like ordering a movie On Demand and drinking a bottle of wine. Each. That’s our kind of party.

In 2004 I lived in Solana Beach, second only to Coronado in The Greatest Places I’ve Ever Lived Ever In My Entire Life and also More Reminders of My Most Regretted Decision Also Known As Moving To Virginia.

That information isn’t terribly relevant to the story, except that I miss being there. Thanks for indulging me.

Solana Beach is the entry to the northern part of the county, directly across from the Del Mar Racetrack. I lived a about a mile from the beach making it “inland” and also more affordable. I sort of befriended a quirky but nice girl whose name isn’t Kelly but whom I’m going to call Kelly. We didn’t really hang out all that much, since she was more of a party girl, but we texted from time to time and I saw her whenever I went to the salon where she worked. Which was fairly often because girls in Southern California spend a lot of time on various waxing, polishing, and coloring needs.

Kelly was “friendly” with various athletes, police officers, and other wealthy somebodies in San Diego and one night she invited me to a party in Rancho Santa Fe. I was super nervous about going, even after she assured me that my planned outfit would be just fine and she gave me the passcode to relay to the guard so I’d be able to get in.

Rancho Santa Fe is the third most expensive place to live in the entire country and has the highest income communities in the U.S. I pulled up to the house and it was, how shall I say? Large.

I let myself in and followed the noise to the kitchen where most of the people had congregated to enjoy the catering and champagne. The attendance ranged from much younger than me to much older than me and the outfits spanned from micro minis to suits. I found Kelly and hung by her side, feeling wildly out of place and epically uncool. She pointed people out and gave me tidbits of gossip and introduced me to all her young, pretty friends wearing way skimpier clothing than me.

As is the way with young, pretty girls there seemed to be a lot of drama. Almost every one of them needed Kelly to listen to one problem or another and whisked her away for whispered advice.

I didn’t plan on staying for very long and within an hour and a half hour I was starting to eye my watch. Standing in a group with Kelly and some of the young pretties I tried to find my out when an older, obviously wealthy gentleman approached. He put his arms around a couple of the girls and casually asked who wanted to make $500. Kelly nodded a couple of the girls out of the group and they all walked off with the man to a room.

HOLY FUCKBALLS! Kelly was a pimp!

Needless to say I didn’t bother waiting for “an out”, I just got the hell out of there.

I went home, put on sweatpants and plopped onto the couch. I opened a beer, grabbed the remote and settled in for the night.

Because that’s my type of party.

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Update on WWPT

I’ve run into WWPT a couple of times since then and he is just tickled with going out of his way to say hello to me and ask “so how’s it going?” I’m not sure if he’s genuinely trying to be nice, or if he thinks this will make me uncomfortable (it doesn’t). Either way, I find it amusing and always smile, and answer him with a hello and “good n’you?”

I Made It My Business. I Don’t Know Why.

After 7 days of consecutive workouts I finally managed to get in a zone with my yogging. This morning I added just a tiny bit of distance, completed 3.4 miles and finished no problem.  Still slow, but steady. If I keep up at this rate I could potentially be doing 5 miles at the end of the month. We’ll see.

It felt good to work out over the long weekend. The temps hit 90 degrees, which put me in a great mood, I got to sleep in, lounge at the pool, and just relax. Saturday afternoon I went for my 3.2 run and felt great after, despite the sticky heat.

Sunday I went to the gym to do legs and Monday I did upper body, mostly shoulders with bis and tris stuck in there. I finished up with a half hour on the elliptical, but not before completely butting into someone else’s business and calling out the World’s Worst Personal Trainer (WWPT).

Seriously, I’ve seen this guy in there before and he completely and utterly SUCKS as a personal trainer. He’s lazy, disinterested, distracted and just generally doesn’t seem to know what’s he’s doing. He’s also fat and grotesquely out of shape and we can get into an argument over whether or not a personal trainer has to “look” like a personal trainer, but let’s just agree that working in that field you SHOULDN’T look like a contestant on the Biggest Loser. Ok?

So I’m doing shoulders and when I go to pick up my dumbbells I see a girl sitting alone on a bench. WWPT is standing a few feet away, chatting with an employee of the gym. The girl is staring off into space. Literally – daydreaming, just sitting there.

While this is a situation that has absolutely nothing to do with me, for some reason I start becoming irritated. 5 minutes pass with no change, and I’m getting beyond annoyed. At the 10 minute mark  (I’ve completed 6 sets plus rest periods) I find myself inexplicably irate. Finally he comes over to her, hands her 35 pound dumbbells for her to bench press and then turns to continue his conversation with someone Not His Client. He turns away while she struggles, says “Too heavy!” and he takes them and points for her to move to another bench. Without speaking to her.

She moves to the other bench and commences more sitting and staring off into space and I completely lose my shit.

From across the gym I say “I hope you’re not paying for that personal training session!” She looks startled and then bursts out laughing. I continue, “I’m totally serious. I’ve seen better one on one attention from online trainers.”

WWPT was pissed! I didn’t care.

Serves him right.

I Miss My Palm Trees

Oh I SO did not want to get up this morning! I went to bed early but was jarred awake at 1:30 and then again at 3:30. When the (first) alarm went off at 5:08 I was really not feeling it. Of course when my second alarm (from the kitchen) went off at 5:22, well, there’s really no choice but to get out of bed, is there?

Mission accomplished.

I stood in the kitchen in my underwear for a bit, rubbing my eyes like I was Cindy Lou Who or some shit. And then I just did. I brushed my teeth, pull my hair into a ponytail, got dressed and went for a run.

I’m so glad I did! Well, duh. I mean who finishes a workout and then says “Damn I wish I hadn’t done that!” Right.

I got some news last night that kind of shook me up. It shook Patrick up too. It sat in my stomach for the rest of the night, until I went to bed, and when I woke up this morning. I’m sad about it for both selfish and non-selfish reasons. And the only one thing I can do is hope that it all works out.

Hope. Seriously, that’s all I got on that one.

Everyone bailed on our Memorial Day cook out and, whatever, less cooking and more pool for me. Actually, tomorrow’s not supposed to be the best weather of the weekend so we’re going to head to Arlington cemetery tomorrow and while Patrick is golfing on Sunday morning I’m going to be a sloth by the pool (after a workout)(and while wearing sunscreen). Sunday evening we’re going to a cookout and all I have to do is bring a dessert. Easy peasy!

I found a great new blog but I can’t read it. I tried to get over it but I can’t, because I am a total and complete asshole. An asshole who can’t deal with jealously or cope with her own reality sometimes. The profile on the blog reads:

I ditched my corporate job in Chicago and moved to San Diego without a job, without a car, without a home, and with very little money. I sought sunshine, adventure, and good running… and that is exactly what I found!

See? I’m an asshole. I can’t read it, it hurts too much.

So Much Better

Well of course after posting about how tired I’ve been, today I feel SO much better! So much better than I have in days, maybe a week. You know what I think it is?

The friggin run jog, that’s what.

It shouldn’t really be surprising. As a former gym rat – spending 3 to 4 hours a day at the gym – it’s no wonder that my body hates it when I don’t workout, whether it’s lifting weights, hitting the elliptical, or going for a jog. When I don’t exercise I feel tired and a little depressed.

Of course there are times when you just can’t  or shouldn’t work out (see again: bladder, needles, icy hot) but the bottom line is, working out = feeling good.

Lesson learned remembered.

I believe it’s jogging or yogging. It might be a soft j.

When I was in high school I used to set the alarm on my dresser, on the other side of the room. This forced me to get out of bed to turn it off. I usually jumped out of bed with my eyes closed, hit snooze, and then snuggled back under the covers for 9 minutes. It was still a better attempt than keeping it on the nightstand.

Last night I set the alarm on my nightstand as I usually do. Then I set the alarm on my phone for 10 minutes later and purposely left it in the kitchen. Now people, that is the way to get your ass out of bed for a morning run!

So it turns out that my running route is actually 3.2 miles and not 3.5. This actually makes more sense, given my ability two weeks ago to run it in 30 minutes despite my general running suckitude. Still, that’s a 5k which means I can say “oh yeah, I can run a 5k” which for some reason pleases me.

Truth be told, I hadn’t been out for a run in over a week. Feeling like dirt was seriously cramping my workout style. I was nervous when I headed out this morning, certain that my endurance would be completely shot. Guess what? It was no problem at all and actually I think I could have pushed it at least another half mile with little effort! You know what my trick was?

I went slooooow.

That was my game plan when I set out. I figured it’s been a while (relatively speaking) since I had run and I didn’t want to stop or walk, I was just going to take it slow.

It worked like a charm! I enjoyed every minute of this run jog! I never worried about how far out I was, how much time had passed, or even the dreaded last incline. I just…jogged. I felt great at the end even though it took me 35 minutes to go 3.2 miles.

I won’t be winning any races, obviously, but I think I just found my stride.

Something Is Up

Something is up and I don’t know what it is. Lately I am so tired that by 4:00 in the afternoon I am ready for bed.

I just want to sleeeeeeep. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

I don’t know what’s causing this exhaustion – I guess it could be hormonal? Or dietary? Stress? Whatever the reason, I am seriously over it.

Summer is coming and the weather is nice, the days are longer and lighter, and I miss having energy.

It’s 4:30 and I want nothing more than to talk myself out of the gym.


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AMYELLA

Amyella (pronounced Amy-ella) is a pseudonym for Amy Levitt, a fitness and health food fanatic and a beach girl at heart. She has been sharing her sometimes nonsensical thoughts and self-amusing stories online since 2002 and currently spends a good deal of her time wrangling her 90 pound Rottweiler and 60 pound Boxer. Which is quite a show.
The origin of the name Amyella.

Here's my deal. It's wicked exciting!

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