No. 4 Blog, sweat and tears

I couldn’t think of a better way of rocketing myself out of my comfort zone than by (drumroll, please…) exercising. In the great scope of things, this is quite probably one of the most insignificant things to ever happen, but for me, this is astronomical.

Exercise sucks. Seriously, the only thing more horrid than going to the gym is listening to the akward-looking-and-even-worse-sounding Rebecca Black. And then there's peppy gym folk. Don't even get me started on those freaks...

Gym trauma aside, the fact that I’ve been going to the gym is huge for me. Besides the obvious muscular pain stemming from my mind-boggling lack of physical condition, this has unsuspectedly become quite the mental challenge. Why? Because I have been half-assing it and trying to weasel my way out of this in each and every way possible. And after initially celebrating how I was so smooth that I was getting away with it- BooM. All of a sudden my husband’s dropped a couple of pounds, is back to his ideal weight and I’m still trying to fit my fat ass into jeans while avoiding the dreaded muffin top. Great. Reality check: 1 Me: -5

So it’s back to squat one: realizing a lot of times we think we’re getting away with our bullshit but we’re actually getting owned by it. No matter how many times I listen to the phrase “there’s no such thing as an easy way out”, I cling on to the hope that maybe someday I would find it. And yet 27 years have passed and my GPS still hasn’t picked it up. So rather than sit, sulk and consult with Cherry García, it’s time to whip myself into shape both physically and emotionally.

In order to pump myself up for this, I need some theatrics and so Operation Fat Ass to Hot Ass is born. Congratulations. OFATHA has officially commenced and you guys are part of it. If not by joining in the physical torture, then encouraging comments and/or annoying follow-up questions are appreciated cause here’s the thing. If Imma do this, Imma do it right. I’m not talking losing a couple of inches here and there. I’m not talking losing a couple of pounds. I’m talking about real friggin results because I am sure as hell not enjoying the ride, so the end result better be fantafuckintastic (something attainable, along the lines of Sofía Vergara or such)… :)

Closing thoughts: Maybe I get a six-pack, maybe I drink one. But at least, I started. And, apparently I'm not the only troubled one on the exercising front (cue Brit's performance on GMA...) Not even I look as dead-eyed as her when I hit the gym, so I've finally one-upped Ms. Spears. Now excuse me, it’s time for some Ben-Gay…


The 27 Year Old Blog

Due to the weekend long celebration of my (gasp!) 27th birthday, I have irresponsibly slacked on my writing, proving that responsibility does NOT come with age. It's been a roller coaster of emotions rivaled only by the trainride to Crazy Town known as the cast of The Apprentice...

See ya next post, loves!



This past week has been one of those weeks I would've preferred to sleep through. It was as if life had read my previous entry, wasn’t too fond of the whole making life our bitch thing and decided to go for some full-on role reversal.

I've had my ass handed to me so much this last week at work, I felt the Trump had it light at his roast. Between the stress and the existential crisis brought on by this being my last week as a 26 yr. old, I started to wonder, what’s the point?

I don't know how many times I justify putting off things or losing a grip on reality by blaming it on my job. I work in one of the most sacrificed, unrewarding and ungrateful industries ever (kudos to me on the excellent career choice…) and yet, there's some sort of je ne sais quois in it that seems to keep me coming back for more. Could it be my job's become my Mr. Big???

I mean, I do love my job (there’s really no other logical explanation as to why I keep doing it) but I think there comes a point in which our job becomes a crutch for our lack of balls when it comes to putting ourselves out there. We aim for a happy medium of shooting for what we really want on the side without endangering what we actually have and end up not having the time to fulfill either part satisfactory. I guess it comes down to priorities and figuring out how to figure them out. Am I letting my career consume me or do sacrifices have to be done now in order to reap rewards later on? Which weighs more: happiness or financial stability? In what things should we go the extra mile and in which do we barely meet the minimum requirements? What's the right choice? I mean, there should be a balance, but is it possible?

When I take a moment to look around, I can’t think of a moment that makes me happier than being with my hubs and our bulldog doing absolutely nothing but taking in the day. It’s scary to think we can become so consumed with things in the long haul, we lose sight of what’s actually happening on our way there.

The future’s certainly unpredictable (except for child stars, we all know where those are headed…), so why spend the present holding back on what really drives us? We have to let go of fears holding us back and go for whatever IT may be, while taking the time to appreciate that sometimes we actually get the reward upfront and the journey’s just a chance to enjoy it.

Closing thoughts: As icing on the shitcake also known as this past week, (cue royal fanfare) I fell at work. And I mean all-out, ass-to-the-ground, no-recollection-of-how-it-happened, objects-flying, black-and-blue-bruising-the-day-after-type-fall. This could just be due to my astounding lack of coordination or maybe, just maybe (and I’m silver-lining here), it’s a sign. A not-so-subtle shove to let me know I'll never get anywhere if I don’t take a leap out of my comfort zone, bruised bum and all.



Little did I know that once my blog cherry popped, I'd experience such anxiety, relief, nervousness, joy and exposure. (It's as if I've spent a week in the life of Charlie Sheen...) In these last 7 (Excedrin filled) days, I've been trapped in a vicious circle of feeling as if I'd gone out into the world nekkid, wondering if anyone would even read the blog, having somebody tell me they've actually liked it,  having my feelings shift over to temporary self-assurance and immediately feeling the enormous pressure of figuring out WTG I'm gonna write next... Yet, the most surprising thing about this process is the unfamiliar feeling of accomplishment it's given me. Not because people have actually liked it (don't get me wrong, that friggin' rocks!) but because I'm finally able to cross off one thing from my personal to-do list and use it to BS myself into thinking this is a pretty cool start to getting life somewhat on track.

I'm convinced it's impossible to have everything in life figured out or under control and people who claim they do are clearly delusional or share the same odds of passing a drug test as Lindsay Lohan... Pop culture low-blow aside, spending every waking day trying to make sense of everything that goes on has led me to a love-hate relationship with life. Why? Cause you gotta love life's twisted sense of irony. After 26 years of trying to figure it out, my hypothesis is ...
life's one sassy bitch™. And every single day it's gonna bite our ass at some point and follow it up with some diva-ish finger snapping and a preachy "Mm-Hmm". It's up to us to try not to lose our cool and apply some type of (real OR fictional) silver lining to make it work.

We're continuously experiencing ups and downs in our lives and we have to keep things in perspective in order to deal with it. When things are bad, the commonly used phrase 'it could be worse' comes into play and I couldn't agree more. I'm not talking about basking in other people's misfortune (unless it happens to be Snooki's), but about appreciating what you have and #WINNING*. Ok, bad example... but bear with me here. Even though Sheen took it to an absurd extreme, in a way, he does have the right attitude because he's making the best of his situation and we can all agree here, it's quite the worst case scenario. (If you think I'm praising him as a role model, you're sooo missing the point.) Now I'm not gonna go all Dr. Phil here, but we ALL have something good in our lives. Seriously. Having $5 in your bank account is better than having $0 (sadly, I've got this phrase on repeat); having 1 person who loves you completely counteracts having 15 people hate you and the fact that you're reading this blog right now a. means you've got internet, b. means you're literate and c. is better than absolutely ANY other thing you could be doing at this particular moment.

Closing thoughts: That's life... Cynical, witty, unprefuckindictable LIFE. Not necessarily evil, just a bit sneaky and exceptionally creative but worth taking the chance. Here's to channeling our inner sass, slapping on some wit and making life our bitch! ;)



So... here we go. As I start to write the first entry of what I humbly hope becomes the most interesting blog of all time, I inadvertently drift halfway through this sentence and wonder why this blog has just been born. Partly because I've always loved losing myself in writing, partly because of the movie Julie and Julia, partly because of the people who've said I should share my anecdotes and greatly because of my (not so) secret obsession with expressing my (usually uncalled for) opinions. If nothing else, this project could work as a self analysis of just how out of touch I might be with reality and who (if anybody's) coming along for the ride.

I can't say my life has been tragic, although my inner drama queen would say otherwise, but it has been filled with very particular happenings and for lack of a better word, adventures. And while I've had insane luck in some aspects of my life (cue the wonderful hubby & amazing friends), I quite frequently face challenges aimed at discouraging what little pep may be left in me, yet there is an incredibly persistent (and often times annoying) optimist that thrives on these situations. Don't get me wrong, I am by no means a motivational speaker. I often incur in delightfully foul language and random bitch attacks™, but I figure if even I can look past life's crappy curve balls, then there's still hope for the common man.

Being a devoted follower of the KISS principle (if you don't know what it means, please Google it and relate to the principle's last word), I'm wrapping it up for now. 

Closing thoughts: This experimental blog might not be educational and it probably won't contribute much to humanity, but it will be entertaining. At least for the author and frankly, that's good enough for me.