whole new level of ridiculous.

Holy balls I've missed blogging. I've had no internet for the past two weeks. Long story short, well... I have no internet. There's really no long story to it. I have no data on my phone, and Rob used all the wifi at our house downloading Joe Rogan podcasts. I can't really be upset about that though. It is Joe Rogan. And he is awesome. And I love Rob. Everybody wins. Except for the fact that I have no internet. It's kind of sad how much time I spend online. I feel so disconnected without it. I have to talk to people. In person. With my voice. Just kidding. I love human interaction. Unless it's with people that are a little cray. Then I have to decide if they're a good kind of crazy or a bad kind. For the most part - bad. That's okay though. I now know how to do a rear naked choke which will probably save me never in my life because I don't perform well under pressure. I did manage to practice it on Rob and he tapped. Operative word there being practice. I didn't want to push my luck by surprise ninja attacking him with one. That would not have ended well.

I had a dream the other day. I was in a cafe and the whole shop was filled with amazing desserts and cookies. And the dude said to me "do you want anything to eat?", and I said - no joke - "I do... but do you have anything that's gluten free?".


What is wrong with me? I'm so disappointed in myself. And my non-cake eating abilities in my dreams. I was craving cake that whole week. I just wanted peanut butter with marshmallows and fudge all mixed into one. I'm still trying to find a paleo substitute for this. The closest I've gotten is NOTHING. There is no peanut butter equivalent. Almond butter doesn't work people. It's great, but it's not peanuts. What is it about nuts that make people crazy? Nuts and cheese. You put out a bowl of salted nuts in front of people and you better move the fuck over because people will tear your shit off if you're in between them and salted nuts. Why do I have so many vices? I guess I'm pretty low on the scale of how vices go. I probably should be complaining when instead of wanting a peanut butter sandwich, I want some heroin.

But seriously, who would take heroin over a peanut butter sandwich? On fresh bread. With a butt load of butter. I just said butt twice in one sentence. I speak English good. Real good.

Enough about awkward conversations on drug addiction! Here's a fun fact for you. When I've had too much to drink and not enough sleep, the next day my armpit hurts. That's the tell tale sign that my body hates me. When my armpit is sore, I know that I had too much to drink and not enough sleep. I tried explaining that to my friends at work. They just looked at me like an idiot. I get that a lot. I was going to try to defend myself just then, but after reading what I've just written, it's probably a fair assumption. The armpit thing is based on my lymph nodes becoming swollen. Knowledge bomb. That's about as far as I go when it comes to science. Anywho, that was after a night out with Lindsay and Jonathon. We ate Japanese. On Chinese New Year. It was delicious. And totally inappropriate. I think that night went downhill when Lindsay and I decided to go to the ghetto hip hop club in Fitzroy. I'm thinking about writing more on the subject of why this was not such a good idea, but I'm pretty sure the words "ghetto", "hip hop" and "Fitzroy" sum up the point that these things don't go together. Well at least hip hop and Fitzroy. It can be pretty ghetto around that area. Although I haven't come across any suspicious objects on the street at my gym lately. They probably read my blog post and decided to move their shenanigans else where. If you call leaving a dirty tampon on the road a shenanigan. Which I do not.

I love awesome accidents. You know when you fuck something up, and then all of a sudden you're like "wait a second... that's even better!". Because 99% of the time, it's just going to be worse. You accidentally put face wash on your toothbrush instead of toothpaste, there's no upside to that. You accidentally fall off a pull up bar and brake your neck. Nope, that just makes things worse. But, you try to make some sort of maple dressing for your roasted duck breast, and instead the maple accidentally turns into toffee cooked in duck fat. Sweet zombie jesus you have a freaking masterpiece on your hands. Firstly, duck fat is awesome. Anything cooked in duck fat makes it better. Secondly, maple syrup is delicious. Of course the two combined would taste out of control. But when that maple turned into toffee, I kind of secretly lost my shit. And then ate it. All of it. I enjoy those kinds of accidents. Or anything food related where I get to eat awesome things. I accidentally made Tom Yum soup the other night. It was supposed to be a curry. But instead of waiting for the liquid to reduce because I was starving and wanted to get my Asian on, I decided it'd be a soup. Booyah. I love Asian food. I feel like I could eat it all day every day forever. If I make more than one curry in the week, Rob will say "more curry!" like it's all he's been eating for his whole life. He's such a round eye. I told him that the other day, he was like "your eyes are bigger than mine, that doesn't make sense!". Whatever. It's metaphorical.

I have a bike! It's amazing. Rob built it for me. I love it. I haven't ridden it yet though on account of me being scared I'm going to get run over. Melbourne is very bike friendly, especially my area. But still. I'm slightly uncoordinated. That's an understatement. I'm going to be honest with you. Rob actually had to explain and demonstrate to me how to get on and off the bike. And it was hard. I was kind of in awe of the fact that I had to learn how to mount and dismount a bike. I think I reached a whole new level of ridiculous. I'm making it sound like an upgrade, but really it's probably a downgrade in my abilities at life skills. Actually, I think I have redeemed myself though because I'm totally smashing my pull ups now. I'm getting out sets of four and five. It's pretty bad ass. And it's been a month since my strength programming. My overhead squat has gone up by 9 kilos, my back squat is up by 7 kilos and my front squat 1 rep max is now my 3 rep max. Basically I'm awesome.

my sweet bike.
Just kidding. My body is sore. I did Annie on Wednesday and Christine the day before. This whole week is women WODs at the gym. Annie is 50-40-30-20-10 of double unders and sit ups. My double unders were not happening. Sometimes you just have shit house days where skipping feels like the most ridiculous movement possible. I managed to get it just under 10 minutes, which was my goal. I also managed to whip myself multiple times on the same spot on my leg. So on top of whip marks the whole front of my legs are bruised from deadlifts from Christine (3 rounds for time: 500m row, 12 deadlifts at body weight, 21 box jumps). I didn't do body weight, I did 10 kilos less. It took me 13:03. My legs were dead. Trying to jump up on a box after rowing and deadlifting is a terrible idea. Whoever designed that WOD is awful. At one point, my legs sort of collapsed on the box because they were just done. They were like "nope we're done with today" and just stopped working. Thanks legs. Great to know you've got my back. You fucks. I read this thing about when you're feeling tired and sore, get angry that you're tired and sore and push harder. So I'm trying it out. It's not really new for me though, I do get angry a lot when my body doesn't work. But I think I get angry and then psych myself out for the rest of the work out. I think I'm slowly becoming more confident in my abilities and that I'm fitter and stronger than I tell myself. I like to tell myself that I'm not those things. But that's easy and it's a cop out and it gives me an excuse to slack off. But it also makes me feel like crap when I think like that. No one ever regrets working out. Unless you break your neck that day. But in hindsight, if I hadn't have broken my neck, I wouldn't have quit uni, started my blog, gone travelling, and probably not have gotten my new job at the lululemon head office working as the email and blog specialist. I know what you're thinking, I'm actually going to get paid to blog. Yes. Yes I am. You're so jelly right now. And now you're thinking, how can someone who says "jelly" be paid to write?
I have no idea.

Last weekend we went to a Day of the Dead party. It's a Mexican holiday. Basically we painted our faces and drank sangria and margaritas all night. I like this holiday. I also realised I own five ponchos. And they are all awesome. So necessary really. Except it was 30 degrees out and wearing a poncho was a bad choice. I'm not really sure what the logic is behind a poncho. I believe it's like a mini sweat lodge for your body. I want to do a sweat lodge. My Dad's done it before. It sounds horrible and amazing at the same time. I want a teepee. And a bean bag. My obsession to purchase a bean bag has kind of gotten out of hand. I almost have to refer to it as the "b-word' because Rob says he's so sick of hearing me talk about it. I would like one that is an inny and an outty. So I can transfer it from our deck to our living room for ultimate beany comfort. Apparently though,  I missed the memo on how bean bags are now filled with gold. Because $400 for one makes me think that whoever is selling this, or more importantly, whoever is buying this, is a complete wank. So I'm boycotting the bean bag industry. It's a noble cause. The term hero has been thrown around, but I'm just like you. You're average citizen. Just trying to make it in life.

just your casual Saturday night.
my poncho making an appearance.
Okay, I'm going to have to stop there before this gets completely ridiculous. It's been almost two months since Rob and I moved in to our new place and we still don't have a couch. Why is furniture so expensive? And why is buying second hand furniture so difficult? Probably because I assume everything bought second hand could potentially have been jizzed on. Just kidding. But seriously. One day we'll own a couch. I'm at my parents' house right now abusing their internet, and it's like I'm in a mansion. There's so much furniture. My mum made me a salad for lunch with ingredients all from their garden. Stupid parents. And their couch and garden fulfilled lives. They own three couches. Way to rub it in my face. Just joshing. My parents are bad ass. They actually do own three couches though, and they wanted to give us one of them. We couldn't fit it up our dumb stairs. Who builds a place that has the most narrow stairs possible, where you can't even fit a couch up it? Dumb people that's who. People who don't have to live in their shitty creations. Wow, I didn't realise how passionate I am about couch injustice. I looked at a fold out couch the other day... $1000. I could go on a holiday for that much money. I could probably go on a holiday, buy the couch overseas, bring it back to Australia and still have money left over. Anyway, on a scale of 1 to 10, I hate everyone.

I think I'm going back to that hip hop club tonight. I'm ridiculous.

Ridiculously awesome.

Seriously though, there's something wrong with me mentally.

Holy monkey I totally forgot to tell you. I vomited after a WOD on Saturday. We went to the opening for CrossFit Hawthorn East, and I got there late and missed the warm up but still was able to do the work out. That right there probably was a factor in why I threw up. It was also stupidly hot. And I think I was dehydrated. So that fun combo along with 3 rounds for time of 9 power cleans, 9 barbell burpees, 9 toes to bar, 9 hand stand push ups and a 400m run really made me feel stupendous. That run was terrible. I hate running in work outs. It was a decent work out though, I enjoyed it when I wasn't thinking about how horrible I was feeling. Then after I finished and had been lying on the ground for a while trying not to throw up, I went into the bathroom... and threw up. I think the best part about it was that I told Kacey and Darren (the owners) that I had christened their toilet with my vomit, and they both high fived me. Other people at the gym were like "oh great work!" and "congratulations!". Crossfitters are so weird. I love it.

whipping out some HSPUs...
now I only have to do it on 1 abmat!

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