DILF: Denis Leary - Rescue Me Edition.

It's been a while since I put up a DILF pic (Daddy I'd like to F**K) but to kick off my Rescue Me Blog Series, I thought I would start off with a pic biggest crush ever....Denis Leary. You have absolutely NO IDEA the things that I want to do if I ever got a chance to be in a dark room with Denis Leary. *Just thinking about even being in the same planet with this guy...breathing the same air... is making me hypervenilate*

Yes, he's not convential sexy. He's rude sometimes. He's brash. He tells it like he sees it, regardless of what anyone else thinks. He stands by his convictions.

But damnit, I don't know if it's his Irish looks, or his sarcastic voice, or his strung out look that makes me want to do WICKED things to him.

Plus he is in my most favourite show ever ...Rescue Me (on FX in the States and Showcase in Canada).

My God, just staring at him makes me dizzy with anticipation. Squeeeeeeeee!

Oooh my aching back.

This weekend I ignored the pain signals my body was giving me. I ignored the pain in my body when I was wearing heels for 6 hours at church. I ignored the pain in my body when I swam 30 laps at the pool. I ignored the pain in my body that came when I was standing in swealtering heat wearing black work clothes. I ignored the pain in my body when I was trying on clothes and my hips were crying.

So finally, my body fought back. It said enough was enough. And as a result, I have a lower back muscle strain.

I first knew something was wrong when I woke up on Monday and could barely get up. I couldn't walk more than baby step paced to the bathroom. The stairs almost made me cry. I couldn't put on my pants without doing some sort of dirty dancing inspired shuffle.

Now on any given pain day, I would have stayed home. But with me the only one here, that's not an option unless I'm physically in the ER. So I shuffled slowly to work in tears. Sat painfully at my desk for hours. Couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't function. All I knew was pain.

My boss was sympathetic. He got the mail. He got my lunch. He got me a coffee. That might be the only sympathy I get all year, but I digress...

Oh..and did I mention I was high on 1600 mg of pain pills?!!!!!

So I finally got to see the goddess that is Sian Williams, my chiro. She fixed me up fairly ok. And by fairly ok, I mean that I could take toddler steps. But I felt better. Today I'm sore again.

Sadly, my prescription is to walk (schwaaa?), drink water (ewwww) and put ice packs on my back (which later becomes dinner).

I yearn for the days when noone knew what to do so the diagnosis was bed rest and bon-bons. I could be watching Y&R as we speak.

On the plus side, I did get a kick-ass water pillow, which is my new lover. Best night of sleep I've had all year (well minus the back pain).

So there's no point to my blog. I think I might shuffle over and buy Season 2 of Rescue Me (which i promise to blog about the show soon)....or maybe a book. But I just wanted to share my pain with the hopes of getting much sympathy and love. :)

Kick Ass Quote of the Day!

There comes a point in your life when you realize:

Who matters

Who never did

Who won't anymore

And who always will

So, don't worry about people from your past,there's a reason why they didn't make it to your future.

Bridesmaid confessional.

*DISCLAIMER: I love my friends. I will do anything for my friends. If someone does my friends wrong, I will show that rat bastard the *fists of fury*. I'm the ultimate keemosabee.

K...so now that the disclaimer is out of the way I can proceed with my confessional.

I will just say this and be done with it: I hate being a bridesmaid.

I love weddings. I love seeing friends who love each other be bound in neck chokening bonds of matrimony. I love the pretty decorations & the awesome food. But I can't stand being an actual part of the wedding. I hate being a bridesmaid.

I suppose one would say "Dani, you are just being jelous you single old cow. Suck it up and stop being selfish".

Or you could say "Dani, you sucky old cow, stop bitching about how fat you look in the dress and be a better friend..you should have though about your weight a year ago".

Equally as enticing, you could say "Dani, you are such a cow. You knew what the cost would be going in so why are you bitching about it now?".

And you would probably be right on all accords. When weddings occur and I am a part of it, I am reminded instantly that I am fat, poor and single in one fell swoop.

It's different when you are just a guest, because at least being poor and being fat isn't the be all end all because all you have to do is show up wearing a dress that hides the fat and eat the food for free with a token re-gift.

But when you are stuffed into a dress that only suits skinny people, that costs an arm and a leg, and you are single with no chance of scoring with the bestman in the janitor hall, then what's the point of reinforcing your misery?

And the funny thing is...I keep agreeing. Because I love my friends. And I guess in the end, that is all that matters.

Happy Five Friday.

Lately, I have been little miss doom & gloom. Bitching about pretty much everything, everyone & life in general.

Today, I am going to post about things that made me happy this week. Because it's Friday and
I'm allowed to be happy on Fridays. So in random order, here are some things that made me happy this week.

#1) So You Think You Can Dance- Jason and Jeaninie doing Travis's first choreographed routine. Both Jason and Jeanine had dead weight partners up until this week so neither really shined. Then they got to performance this and I almost fell out of my chair it was so good. I would say it is on par with Kourtini's and Mark's routine called "The Garden" from last year.

Jason & Jeaninie

Kourtni & Mark Just to refresh your memory!

#2- Theresa's & Dan's Wedding Rehersal - I am doing the readings, but I am so happy for both of them. They are one of the genuninely nicest couples I know.

#3- The return of Big Brother on CBS.-> Squeeeeeee! My shameless summer past time. This year is delightful in that it's broken into high school cliques. A bit too much drama right from the get go..but that will settle down as the season goes on.


#4-I sorted out my closet finally into like items, even going as far as colour co-ordianate my hangers. It's delightful.

#5- Rescue Me. Oh fricken squeeeee and a half squeee! I love this show and although it wasn't nominated for an Emmy because the Academy sucks monkeys, it is still the best show on television. I mad love Dennis Leary Keep and eye on my blog as I plan on doing a Rescue Me post coming up.

*mmm...Denis Leary all burnt up...dribble drool.

OK mes amies...what are your Happy Five Friday reflections on the week that was.

Can we "Clap People Out"

There is a baseball reference that I heard for the first time at the Edmonton Capitals Baseball game. The term "clap them out". What it basically means in the context of a baseball game is that the when someone from the opposing team is at bat, you give that slow exaggerated clap to distract them from the task and hopefully they will strike out and victory will be ours. It can also be used in other contexts which net the same result (the removal of a player from the field).

Today at work, we have the annual company golf tournament (*barf*). So the obnoxious level at work at in full force today. Everyone is wearing their God-awful golf shirts in a variety of rainbow colours...and no, this isn't a pride parade folks. It's a bunch of stuffy conservatives in khaki's and cleats walking the halls like Tiger Woods incarnates.

SO OBNOXIOUS.

And when they are not talking about golf, they are pestering me with questions as to why I am not attending the all empowering golf tourney.

Obnoxious Co-Worker (who never talks to me any other time of the year unless forced): "Dani, why aren't you going to the golf tournament?"

Me: "Because I hate golf"

OCW: "But it will be fun".

Me: "I don't care"

OCW: "But you don't have to know how to play, it's Texas Scramble".

Me: "Unless that's an omlette of some sort, I don't care".

OCW: "Well why don't you come for the dinner after".

Me: "When is that?"

OCW: "It's around 5 p.m. onwards".

Me: " I don't go to company functions on my private time. I spend enough time here".

OCW: " Well we'll have fun..you should come".

Me: "I hate work. I hate golf. I hate people. So ..umm..yah...NO".

So here I am, at my desk, watching the rainbow connection pass by me talking all things golf.

And all I can think of is...

CAN WE CLAP PEOPLE OUT?

Wouldn't that be an awesome societal attribute? You just stand up and start the slow paced clap, and a few others join in, then the jackasses can leave?

Wild Species Survival Guide: The Obnoxious Baseball Fan.

Latin Name: homosapien obnoxious

English Name: Obnoxious Baseball Fan. (aka: OBF)

Origin: Although thought to be descendents of wild apes, scientists have recently discovered DNA links that indicate that they are in fact an ape.

Lifespan: They last about 3-5 hours but can rebirth daily during the spring to fall season.

Staples: OBF prefer foods of high fat content to keep their belly's firm enough to be used as a table to record baseball statistics. Particularly fond of hotdogs, nacho's, pizza and peanuts. They consume large amounts of waterous beverages derived from a combination of hops and barley.

Population: Although once small in number, their population has been increasing. They can be found directly behind me in almost every venue. There are larger populations in warmer climates.

Range: They can be found all over the world, but are particularly indigenous to North America. They tend to migrate to my section no matter what venue I happen to be located.

Behaviour: OBF's tend to travel in packs and are easily encouraged by the cheering or acknowledgement of others. They are often loud and speak with a firm judgement. Deep inadequacy of their own experiences makes them deeply judgemental of those who excel. They tend to think they know how to play the game better. They can be particularly irate towards umpires and are easily angered by managers. The fail to notice annoyed glances or awkward silences around them.

Mating season: Sadly, OBF's do mate. They tend to attract similar alpha-females. However, it has been observed that they prey on innocent nearby females who embarass easily, with the hope that this time honoured mating dance may increase their chances of reproduction.

Threats: Their biggest enemy is the park security attendent or police officer. Can be prone to irate gestures, physical violence and loud yelling when confronted.

Gifts: Although they think their gifts are their opinions and their lame attempts at humour, their actual gift is their insane ability to win 50/50's and catch t-shirts despite not be worthy of the prize.

What to do if confronted by an OBF: If avoiding eye contact does not work, pointed staring can work in some cases. If situation does not resolve, a general comment in any direction might work, although it is advised to avoid direct conversation at all costs. Their threats tend to be able to weed them out. The best thing to do for maximum results is for large groups to not respond or react, thereby weakening their powers. At last resort, kick them in the balls or tell the female alpha-wolf that there is a richer OBF in another section.
******************
I hope my handy guide will help when faced with an Obnoxious Fan Syndrome.

Crossroads.

It is strange to know that you can leave your daily routine at any time you wish, and the only thing keeping you there is money or fear or comfort in the known. ~ PastaQueen.com

So clearly last night I was having a pity party about myself. I am probably not as bad as I think that I am (body image issues and all that jazz). But the reality of the below post is that it reflects my state of mind.

I am in a state of confusion about my life. It is said that life is the journey between where you were and where you were meant to be. But that offers me no solace at all when I think of my life well wasted and my future uncertain. It doesn't solve my anxieties that I have right now at this crossroads in my career/life.

I was following up on my newfound Edmonton Captials obsession appreciation and came across a blog by one of the players, Chan Ehrnsberger. If you click on the link, it will take you to this one post he did that caught my eye and completely fascinated me. I felt in some weird way like I found a person who is on a parrallel path with me.

Here is a professional baseball player who is at that same point in life. 31 years old, unattached, struggling with doing something he completely loves. But the love comes with the sacrifice of pay, uncertainty and the sacrifice of spending no time with his friends and family. But baseball is his passion.

Then there is me. 31 years, unattached, struggling with doing something I completely despise. But I get guaranteed pay, a fluctuating certainty, and very little personal sacrifice (unless you count my soul, but that's another story). And I would love to pursue my passion, but fear roots me to the reailty.

Two completely different strangers, yet one common crossroad. As was illustrated in the two examples, there are pros and there are cons to living a passionate life vs of average. I wish there was an easy answer. Do you pursue your passion at the cost of the known or do you stay in the known at the cost of your passion? Which has a greater reward?

Skinny memories...shaky at best.

While sitting here looking at diet blogs today, I realized something.

I don't remember what it is like to be skinny.

I know that I was skinny. I remember buying and wearing clothes not as big as a tent. But I don't actually remember the physical act of being skinny. The feel of being skinny.

Like I don't remember what my sholder bones felt like, or having skinny arms that didn't jiggle. I don't remember what it felt like to not have my thighs touch. I don't remember what it feels like to have skinny ankles and defined calves, and bums that curve under...not just meshing with your thighs. I don't remember what if feels like to have defined abs and not just a paunch that spills over your pelvic area. I don't remember what it felt like to sit in a booth without breathing in, or being able to fall into a seat and have room to put a jacket between your thighs and the arm rests. I don't remember what it feels like to sit cross legged. I don't remember what it feels like to be able to curl up and put your feet on something close by.

Was I ever skinny or was that time in my life a mirage? And more importantly, will I ever get to that point again?

Sigh.

My field of dreams and the discovery of my love for baseball.

Last night Steve, Joanne & I went to the Edmonton Capitals Baseball game. For $16.00, we got a ticket, parking, a hot dog, a BOTTLED Pepsi (not fountain), three 50/50 tickets & free popcorn while we watched The Sandlot right on the field. I don't care who you are, that them there is cheap entertainment for a Saturday night.

Now up until last night, Steve has been slowly indoctrinating me into baseball. It started off with casual mentions. Then it moved onto full out discussions. Then he ever so subtly leant me Baseball for Dani Dummies.

And I knew he rolled his eyes everytime the word "that baseball player is hot" was muttered.

Prior to last night, baseball was one of those games we went to, usually with the winning of free tickets and nothing better to do. And I would go, and watch only knowing what a strike, ball and home run were. And I would focus most of my energies on hot baseball players and their asses.

And while I still enjoy the 'rear view' as it were, I have a new found love for the game. How so do you ask? What is the secret to getting into baseball?

I have two words for you: Stat Recording.

It literally changed my life. After the initial consulation ("Count with me ...1..2..3..4...5...6...7...8..9. No, the left fielder is 7, not 8...the other 7..... that's a 6-4-3....no, having a nice ass does not mean he's a good hitter....that's a fly ball...because it flys in the air is why it's called a fly ball...fill your diamond out properly....because his last name is Flowers so he will be mocked..") , I got right into the game.

When forced to pay attention, you really start to appreciate the nuance and stragegy of the game.

So with my Edmonton Capitals hoodie propped as a table, my hat on my head to protect me from the glare of the sun, my pen poised and ready to record...I became an avid fan of baseball. To cap off the perfect night, we got to stroll on the soft grasses of John Ducey Park & watch a movie.

So I challenge all my readers (ok...well my 3 regular readers and the odd straggler that accidently clicks on this blog), go embrace America's Favorite Past Time. Go to your local league, nosh on a hot dog, and cheer on your local team.