I’m at home. In bed. Feeling horrible. I’ve been sick all weekend.

I emailed in sick from work. Yep, I did. I sent an email. It’s way more technologically advanced than using the phone and calling in sick.

They can easily survive with me. I’ve got the best staff ever!

Worst part about this cold…it comes with an insatiable appetite. I ate an entire bag of Cheetos on Saturday night. I know, it’s an exciting life I live.

Worst part about being home today…my housekeeper is at my house today. Listen to her talk radio show. Really loud. I may have to drown it out with the sound of daytime tv up in my bedroom. Which will be another reason to make being home today suck more.

Anyhow, I must end this post and check my work emails. I have to make sure nobody else emailed in sick and left me with work to do from my lap top. In bed.

P.S. I realize after several failed jokes over IM this morning and after rereading this post, my sick funny isn’t actually funny. I apologize and appreciate your readership in the good times and the bad.

Tags: Home, sick, Work

I adore my trainer. She is awesome. Not only does she kick my ass in our workout sessions, she tolerates me. And by tolerates, I mean she doesn’t let me give her excuses. But she does let me have fun.

At our last training session, she tossed me the elastic band as she walked over to get some hand weights. I quickly put the band on and waited for her to return.

She returned. She rolled her eyes. She waited while I took this picture. I needed a break.  (Yes, I know this picture is hideous. Hell I was sweating my ass off for 45 minutes at this point.)

Then she made me take the elastic band off my head and put it on correctly. For those of you who don’t know, this is how it works.

Again forgive me for the quality of these pictures. I was super rushed. That’s what happens when you stall on a trainer.

She handed me the weights. You know so I could hold them over my head as I did side steps from one side of the gym to the other. Twice.

Once again my trainer got her way. My ass will thank her later.

Tags: sweat, trainer, workout

My trainer made me a deal.

Deal: which one of us can log in more cardio from December 15th – January 15th

At risk: a $50 bottle of wine

Expectations: trainer plans to do 5 hours every week. (I committed to one hour every week figuring it would lower her expectations and make her feel like I’m not competition.)

Rules:

1. minimum time we can log is 10 minutes
2. heart rate must get to 140, or maybe that’s the number of characters allowed in a tweet. All I know is that I shouldn’t be able to carry on a normal conversation because I’m panting so hard.
3. trainer will text me every time she gets her cardio done

Update: I got a text today, she did 30 minutes of cardio. I did 0. Yep, that’s a zero. A big fat nothing.

One day into the competition, I feel defeated.

On another note, I’m looking for a fabulous $50 bottle of wine to buy. Recommendations?

Tags: bet, exercise, trainer, wine