But, I’ve had Wilson Phillips stuck in my head for almost 24 hours now after seeing Bridesmaids.  It was in my head all night while I slept.  I don’t really know what else to do besides download it and embrace it.  It can be my CPA-hole theme song for the next 5 days.  So, yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.

“I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and
Break free from the chains…

Don’t you know?
Don’t you know things can change?
Things will go your way
If you hold on for one more day”

Or 5.

To update all of you who have been on the edge of your seats awaiting the results from my biometric screening… well, I wish I had more exciting news to report.   I’ve only earned myself a few more percentage points of a discount.  Thanks to having an “optimal” cholesterol.  Whaaaa?

My cholesterol report came in the mail last night.  It was the last piece of information I needed to find out if I’d make my discount goal or not.  I opened the envelope, expecting to see a total cholesterol in the 140-150 range where it’s been the last few times it’s been checked, and my jaw dropped when I saw 202 on the paper.  I couldn’t believe it!  Over 200!

I had a mini panic attack as I racked my brain thinking about what would have changed over the last 2 years to increase my cholesterol so much.  Was it stress-induced from studying for the CPA exam?  Was it that I incorporate more red meat into my diet and less fish than I used to?  WHAT COULD IT BE???

When I got to work this morning, I analyzed my individual numbers more closely and started to research what they mean.  Turns out, according to WedMD and every other source I found, my numbers are actually in the “optimal” category.  And my ratios are extremely good.  My LDL cholesterol (the bad kind) is 103 and the normal range is 60-130.  My HDL cholesterol (the good kind) is 86 and the normal range is 40-60 (but the higher the better).  My triglycerides are 65 and the normal range for those is 0 to 150.

So, what gives Whole Foods?  Why you gotta be hatin’?  I’m going to try eating a more plant-based diet, including more fish and less red meat (which doesn’t bode well for the 1/4 of a side of beef I just won in an auction).  I can get rescreened again in a couple of months to see if I can bring that LDL guy down a tad to get the better discount. 

But for tonight, I’m going to enjoy that lean steak and a glass of red wine (which lowers cholesterol, thankyouverymuch) and not feel a bit of guilt!

Normally, I wouldn’t expect to draw any wisdom or advice from “Cougar Town”, but this quote I definitely appreciated:

“You can’t hear the world laughing at you if you’re laughing harder”.

I love laughing at myself.  Guess it’s healthy!

Just as I was getting ready to leave for work today, I looked outside and it was pouring.  I decided I had better drive across the street to work today.  After I grabbed my car keys and headed out to the garage, I saw my car, still glowing after being freshly waxed on Sunday, and decided I didn’t want to risk getting it dirty in the rain.

I went back inside, threw on my rain jacket and sneakers, and then bolted out the door.  I sprinted across the street to work and arrived to my office soaking… and sweating a little. 

My decision was totally normal, right?

Starting Saturday morning, I will be embarking on a 2 week booze-less, sugar-less, unhealthy food-less challenge.  I finally became eligible to get my biometric screening done, which depending upon my numbers, could increase my WFM discount from 20% up to 30%.  My blood pressure and cholesterol have historically been very good.  It’s just my dumb BMI that’s going to keep me from the 30%.  I figured by going hardcore for the two weeks leading up to my screening I can hopefully get the best discount possible.

I’d start tomorrow, but why put a damper on the Royal Wedding day?  I’ve been hearing about it everyday on the Today Show for the last 4 months… I feel like I have a lot invested in this day and I need to enjoy it. 

I’ll report back on my results.  I know you will all be on the edge of your seats.

It’s good to know there are others out there who are in the same boat as me.

An open letter to Regulation.

I’ve always had a fascination with dreams.  Even the ones Fleetwood Mac sing about.  Perhaps it stemmed from the 4th grade when Sarah and I had to do a report on something and we chose REM, as in rapid eye movement sleep, not the band.  My Mom drove us to some old school ladies salon/hair care product store in North Austin, because it was the only one in town that sold the styrofoam heads that you can display wigs on.  Using our artistic abilities, we cut out a chunk of the back of the head and with play-dough, we constructed a little scene of someone shopping the produce aisle of a grocery store.  Pretty lame dream, I know.  I think we were trying to exemplify that people often have very basic, everyday like dreams.

The one I had last night was so not ordinary.  Maybe for Ted Bundy, but not for myself.  I dreamed that some mass murderer attacked my sorority house, while I was across the street watching.  The other people with me rushed across the street to the sorority house to help save our sisters, but I dilly-dallied around where I was because… hello, they were killing people over there!  I woke up this morning feeling extremely guilty for not putting myself in danger and also because I thought our old president (not you, Robyn) had died. 

Then, this afternoon I was telling my coworker about my crazy dream and her response was, “Oh my gosh!  How bizarre!  And just after you had that other dream recently where your guy friend was killing people”.  I had completely forgotten that one. 

All of my good friends were living on the same street (like Wisteria Lane in Desperate Housewives) and I was the only one that knew that Jay was killing people and burying them under his house.  I kept thinking, “How does Suz not know that Jay is a murderer?  Should I tell her?”.  But, I was too scared to say anything because I thought I’d get in trouble for knowing all along.  And I started to sweat BIG TIME when Margaret and John had been missing for a month and everyone kept asking about where they were.  Well, I knew…

Yeah, extremely sick and twisted dreams.  I used to think I should keep a journal of my dreams, but I’m a little too scared to analyze these dreams I’m having lately.  And I should probably stop sharing them with people at work.  Not sure what they are starting to think of me.

It’s only fitting that as I start an 8 week semester of CPA studying hell, three books get released that I’d actually be interested in reading.  And by “interested in reading” I mean read through in their entirety.  Starting and neglecting books is a bad habit of mine, but I’m fairly certain anything written by David Sedaris, Augusten Burroughs (where have you been lately, sir?) and Chelsea Handler would not fall into that trap.  Something tells me the other two on this just released list won’t fall victim either. 

In no particular order…

How To Build An Exceptional Life by Jillian Michaels

Bossypants by Tina Fey

Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me by Chelsea’s Family, Friends and Other Victims

What can I say?  The three of these peeps motivate me and not just to read.  One motivates me to exercise and eat healthy.  One motivates me to laugh.  And the other… well, she motivates me to drink.  Three very important tools for enjoying life. 

And, in case the Easter Bunny reads my blog, I’ve already ordered the first two, but haven’t ordered the third.  It doesn’t come out until May though, so it’s not possible to put it in my Easter basket.  However… last time I checked, my Easter basket has PLENTY of room for Starbucks gift cards.  Wink wink!  Hop hop!

The other day, as I was doing my dutiful job of watching Rocky drop Lincoln Logs, I was approached by a random passer-byer.  She made some kind of random comment/joke about watching my dog poop and I gave her the courtesy laugh and assumed that once she walked on past us, that would be the end of our interaction.

As Rocky and I proceeded to go back inside my apartment complex, she turns around and starts walking towards me.  She says, “Hey, do by chance have any herb to sell?”.  I almost start to giggle, because I’m such a square that I would never in a million years have any “herb” to sell, let alone use (please no comments from the NYE peanut gallery).  Of course, unless she was interested in the dead herbs I have currently resting in peace on my balcony.  I would have been willing to make her a sweet deal on those.  Instead, I told her no, but that she wouldn’t have a hard time finding any in this town. 

So, either she was pretty desperate or I need to start rethinking my wardrobe.

I just walked over to Starbucks to get a cup of coffee and as I was pouring cream in my coffee, the barista asked the gentleman waiting next to the bar how his day was going.  His response, “Oh, just another day in paradise”.  I though it was funny.  In fact, I think all barista-customer exchanges are interesting.

I walked back to the office and hopped on the elevator with two other gentleman.  They apparently knew each other, and one asks the other how his day was going.  His response, “Just another day in paradise, man”.  I had the same “that’s funny” thought as I did after the Starbucks exchange, and then two seconds later deja vu hit and I realized I just heard that less than 5 minutes ago.  It’s not necessarily an unpopular response to the question, but it’s definitely not the “ok”, “pretty good” or “fine” (my childhood favorite) that you hear most of the time.

As I sat down at my desk and began to search for the song on my iPod, it dawned on me that I ran to that song this morning.  Normally, it comes on my Shuffle and I fast forward because it’s kinda slow.  But, today I was in the mood for it.  How bizarre.

Now I’m listening to it, because I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something today via Phil Collins. 

And I’ve listened to it.  The universe is pretty twisted if it’s trying to tell me it’s another day in paradise for me, Peter Olinto and Tim Gearty.  Because it’s not.  I’m sick of studying.  It is NOT paradise.

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