Who's Dumb Bell is it Anyway?

I've realized that I write about the gym a lot, but the gym is a literal breeding ground for awkward, humorous and unexpected events. Putting together hundreds of sweaty strangers is like an improv comedy show that none of the cast are aware they're participating in.

Today, Erin and I were lifting during a very busy time at our gym. When I say we were lifting, note that we are 25 year old girls. We lift 5, 10 or 15 pound dumb bells, and use machines, but no matter how experienced we are, we're petite girls. Leave it to fate that we ended up next to a man, also lifting, who easily weighed 300 pounds and looked like his name should have been Hercules.

This was a beast of a man; his Under Armour was struggling not to tear apart at the seams with his every breath. I have never in my life seen a person with biceps this large. As the backstreet Boys would say, they were larger than life. Hercules was struggling to complete his routine amid a bunch of weights someone had left scattered around the area. Anyone who works out knows that it's common courtesy to re-rack your weights. It's like covering your mouth when you sneeze; you just do it. I don't blame him for being irritated that someone had forgotten, but the fact that he asked Erin and me if we were responsible for leaving these weights out was too much.

The barbells he was pushing out of his way were all 120 pounds or heavier. I would be physically incapable of hefting one of those babies off the rack, let alone work out with it. When he asked us if they were our weights, Erin immediately said yes. I also nodded, and told him, "I had them out to practice juggling, but forgot to put them away - sorry."

Our humor is lost on those who take themselves too seriously.

He asked again if they were really ours or not, and I promptly responded, "Sir, you could curl me in one hand and one of those in the other. No they are not our weights, are you kidding me!"

Finally he gets the joke. He grumbled as he put them away, and Erin and I proceeded with our human-sized weights.

Fit(ness) to be Tied

I joined Pure Fitness during my senior year of college in 2005. I did very little research when I chose to join, above what facilities were closest to my apartment, and what the monthly fee would be. For the majority of my relationship with the gym (yes, I called it a relationship) I was largely content. They didn’t have the newest equipment, or the best staff or hours, but it served its purpose quite nicely. At that point, I would have done just about anything to avoid having to work out at the student rec center, which basically doubled as the set of a reality dating show/teenage beauty pageant.

Now, four years later, I am living and working in entirely different parts of Phoenix, and also have significantly less time to devote to exercise. I came to the conclusion that it made sense to quit Pure Fitness, and pledge allegiance to its key competitor, LA Fitness. LA has more locations, better hours and fancier clubs. They have a reputation of being more of a meat market gym, but if you can get past that, it’s a better deal. Naturally this realization resulted in a need to cut ties with Pure Fitness.

Easier.Said.Than.Done.

I’ve heard stories and jokes about the parallels between ending a gym membership and ending a relationship, and I now can vouch for the validity of those claims.

Attempt 1: On a Saturday afternoon I went into the gym, after finding out in advance that it was not possible to quit over the phone. I asked to end my membership and was told that this was not possible during the weekend. Why? The person who processes the cancellation paperwork is not in on weekends. Like any intelligent human being I asked why I couldn’t just fill out the forms and leave it for this person to process on Monday, and I was told it’s just not allowed. Mmmmk.

Attempt 2: On a Monday, I went into a different location and asked to end my membership. A man I’d never seen before was paged to the reception area, likely from a secret storage closet of salespeople, and asked me to sit down to talk this over with him. Oh boy.

Gym Guy: “Why are you thinking about ending your membership with us?”

Annoyed Jessica: “Locations…hours…equipment…You guys don’t have any locations close to my new house. Or my office for that matter. Your equipment is outdated and out of order, and your new hours are not as convenient as they used to be.”

Gym Guy: [shocked] “Really? Where do you live? And most of our equipment is new.”

Annoyed Jessica: “I live in Central Phoenix. And I work in North Phoenix. I’ve checked your Web site and there are no clubs within close proximity to either location. I’m also not happy with the equipment here. I’ve actually looked into three of your competitors and they all have newer equipment and fewer pieces out of order.”

Gym Guy: [now even more shocked] “Well that’s really surprising. Most of our stuff is new.”

Annoyed Jessica: “Yeah, you said that, but you have all the same cardio machines you’ve had since I joined four years ago! Your staff has been telling me for years it’ll be updated within the next six months, but here we are and it’s all the same.”

Gym Guy: [puffing his chest while unable to make eye contact] “I hope you don’t think you’re going to find a better deal anywhere else. If you think you’ll be happier at somewhere like LA Fitness you won’t be. You’ll be coming back here. I have people switching back all the time. We’re a friendlier gym and we really know our members.”

Annoyed Jessica: [not ok with empty threats] “I’ve been a member for four years, do you think one trainer in here knows my first name? No. “

Gym Guy: [getting serious] “Ok, I guess it’s your decision. So can you tell me one more time why you’re canceling?”

Annoyed Jessica: [through pursed lips]Hours. Locations. Equipment. Staff.

Eventually this dramatic little exchange ended in my favor. Somehow I’m still technically a member until the first week of June, but I still feel like it was a victory for the people. It must be hysterical when someone who works at a gym tries to buy a car, or vice versa; do the two powerful selling forces reflect each other like two magnets do?

big mouth burger

Burger + American cheese + mushroom brie + onion ring + lettuce + pickle + tomato + ketchup + bun = yum. This is our Sunday night.

Friday Funday

Working at PetSmart brings new meaning to the phrase “where pets are family.” Every Friday is ‘bring your pet to work day,’ which is the most fascinatingly hysterical experience I have ever been made witness to. A normally bustling corporate environment morphs into a four-legged jamboree that reaches out to all of your senses. It never gets old to turn a corner en route to a meeting and come face to face with a Golden Retriever scuttling along, desperately attempting to maintain traction on linoleum flooring. Visual analogy: bad dancer on ice skates. You’ll see Chihuahuas, Dalmatians, Great Danes and everything in between. There’s an enormous Bearded Dragon who wanders the aisle next to my cubicle. Meetings and conference calls adapt to a background chorus of whining and yips, and you quickly learn not to judge any offensive odors. There are ‘Oops Stations’ located throughout the campus, complete with disinfectant spray and plastic bags, to clear up any accidental deposits. Visitors to our offices often wonder why we felt it was necessary to put carpeting in our buildings, when we have so many animals coming through, but if you look closely, our carpet is strategically laid in patches (2 foot squares) that can be individually removed and replaced if soiled. Situations that might embarrass the average person, like having your dog poop in front of your senior vice president’s office, or being forcefully dragged into a doggy rear end sniffing fest, are commonplace here and nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not unusual to find yourself eating lunch with several of your team members and suddenly realize that you are completely trapped amid several interwoven leashes. Or, you might experience what I did this week, when I looked down to see that Bruno had completely chewed through his leash and was beginning to digest half of it. Luckily for me he was so delighted with his snack that he neglected to realize he was no longer restrained to the lunch table. The only rules that apply to this hoopla of a privilege are that your pet be vaccinated, leashed and non-aggressive. Of course, you may believe your pooch to be sweet as pie, but when he’s faced with 50 new members of his species, things can get a bit out of hand. Just another lesson learned. This privilege is just one of so many things I love about my job. The philosophy behind it exemplifies exactly what PetSmart stands for, and is just one more way we’ve found to keep pets and pet parents their happiest.

Blue elephant in the room.

Bruno's new bff. A squeaky blue elephant. He severed one of its feet within 10 minutes.

Creamy Chicken Tortilla Soup recipe

Jim made this recipe a few weeks ago it was delicious.

Creamy Chicken Tortilla Soup

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion; chopped
2 tablespoons minced garlic
4 corn tortillas (regular or fried)
1 (14 oz.) can diced tomatoes with chilies
4 cups chicken broth
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon turmeric
2 cups chopped, cooked chicken
1 1/2 cups frozen corn kernels
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese-optional
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
juice from 1/2 fresh lime
1 cup diced, seeded Roma tomatoes or 1 cup salsa
Sour cream for garnish

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat; sauté onions and garlic for 3 minutes. Slice or break tortillas into small pieces and add to onions and garlic; sauté until they are soft. Add tomatoes, broth and spices and bring to a boil. Remove from heat, allow to cool for 5 minutes. Puree soup base in batches in a blender or food processor until smooth, return soup to pot. Add chicken, corn and cream and return to a boil then simmer for 5 minutes or until it starts to thicken. Reduce heat to medium-low and sprinkle in cheese and cilantro; stir to melt cheese. Add lime juice and season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve topped with tomatoes and a dollop of sour cream. For spicier soup, add cayenne pepper to taste.

The Deuce is Loose

Our current living situation is the only place that our dog, Auron, has ever lived without a yard and doggie door. Because he’s always been let outside to go to the bathroom on a lawn, he was largely befuddled when the only thing we had to offer him was a cement patio. He refuses to go to the bathroom on walks, and instead, will only go on our back patio.

For the 10 months we’ve lived in the condo, we’ve just let him do this and picked up his ‘gifts’ on a weekly basis. It figures that we made it up to the last three weeks of living here for a neighbor to complain about pet waste, and force us into daily poop pick ups. Love those HOA’s.

This was all complicated further by adding another dog to the mix. Sure, it sounds crazy to get another dog when we have such limited space, but to me it was a strategic decision: Potty train puppy prior to living with brand new flooring. (Any excuse to get a puppy is a good excuse to get a puppy).

Enter Bruno.

When we adopted Bruno, he had a stomach bug that he promptly passed on to Auron. For several days last week, both dogs were having terrible stomach problems. If you’ve ever thought about how disgusting it would be to have a dog with diarrhea, imagine having two dogs with diarrhea. On your patio. Nothing pretty about it.

Last Friday morning I was ready to walk out the door to work when I realized that we had forgotten to pick up the dog poo outside. I set down my things to grab (what I used to think of as) the best tool known to man: the ‘Jaws’ poop scooper.

I was hastily picking up the crap, literally, and then grabbed the hose to wash off the cement. I held the scooper on one hand and the hose in the other. I even went as far as to screw on the high pressure nozzle on the hose to make certain that no passing nosy neighbor would see any evidence of pet waste.

My fatal flaw was not paying close enough attention to where I directed the stream of the hose. It only took a split second to have it accidently spray into the scoop, flinging wet fecal matter all over me. I wish my reaction had been video taped because it had to have been epic. I had dog diarrhea in my hair and eyes, all over my arms and clothing. I dropped the hose and fought off my gag reflex while making my way directly into the shower.

I can’t describe to you the foul smell that I am convinced is still on me, days later. I don’t know if I can ever wear that shirt again. Hell. I don’t know if I will ever use a hose again. I’m scarred. Who gets dog diarrhea in their eye?! Unacceptable. I judge myself.

After the initial shock wore off, the whole experience became hysterical to recount to all who would listen. Unfortunately, dramatic reenactments will not be performed due to the graphic nature of the incident.

Bruno

It's a shame you are so cute, puppy. Because you've weakened every defense I have with your adorable puppy paws and your fat puppy belly.


I don't care if your nails scratch me.

I won't get mad when you pee on the carpet.

I can't flip out when you keep me up at night crying.

I refuse to discipline you when you use my shoe laces as chew toys.

I spend more on your vet bills than on my own healthcare.


You are lucky you're so cute, Bruno, or you'd be on my list. Instead, I spoil you with toys and tummy rubs and offer you more chances for redemption than I would most humans.

Rise to the O-cake-sion

There are so many expressions that use the word cake that it was hard to choose just one for the title of this post.

Have your cake and eat it too.

Piece of cake.

The icing on the cake.

No matter how you spin it, everyone loves cake. If you don't, no offense, that's just a little bit weird.

Today I took part in quite possibly the best task ever assigned to a bridesmaid: cake tasting. This can't actually be considered work. More like Willy Wonka's version of a chore.

Bailey and Adam are switching out the traditional cake idea to go for gourmet cupcakes. The three flavors we tried today were: vanilla bean with strawberry mousse filling, Mexican hot chocolate with chocolate mousse filling and chocolate with raspberry mousse filling. A fourth flavor we didn't have a chance to sample was red velvet with cream cheese filling.

The woman who makes these magical little delights works out of her home and initially started this venture after being bored as a stay-at-home mom. She now has a booming business and is rumored to have a pending order with New Kids on the Block. More importantly, I get to enjoy her work every month at our birthday celebration at work. I can vouch that these are no ordinary cupcakes, and I have yet another reason to look forward to the Brown/McCray nuptials.

happiness is...

...all my boys

Hit One Outta the Park

Zoee recently led me to the perfect home that I will close on later this month. The path to this house was anything but easy, and involved more setbacks that I ever would have imagined, but Zoee’s professionalism and guidance remained unwavering throughout the entire process. She provided me with all of the information I needed to make the best decisions for myself, as well as the emotional support and patience that any first-time home buyer will seek.

Zoee went far beyond her required responsibilities to make the entire home-buying process absolutely stress-free. There was never a lapse in her communication or customer service no matter how many requests I made. I’m convinced that real estate is in her genes, because she has killer instincts for this stuff!

It is incredibly rare to establish a business relationship with someone where you become so completely confident in her skills and knowledge that you are willing to recommend her to anyone without a moment’s hesitation. I consider myself truly fortunate to have found this type of relationship with my real estate agent, and if anyone needs real estate help, you better call Zoee Tsighis.

Homeward Bound

I was really surprised at how nervous I was for my home inspection this weekend. I was completely confident that the inspector would find very little to bring to our attention, but even so, the entire experience was far more nerve wracking than I would have anticipated.

Inspector Andy arrived at 8:30 a.m., but we didn't head over to the house until he was finishing up, around 11:00. He wasn't quite done when we got there so we wandered around while staying out of the way. This is a good time to note that Inspector Andy is a saint. I literally met this guy for the first time this weekend, but have called him half a dozen times over the past few weeks to ask questions and seek advice. He was incredibly forthcoming, reassuring and honest, and I actually kind of wish he was my uncle or something because I bet he'd be a great story teller at family barbecues. He had the kind of cool disposition that makes me think he fosters kittens and knows kung fu. My very own Chuck Norris. This is starting to sound like I'm obsessed with a stranger, which wasn't my intention, so I'll move forward.

Andy finally completed his inspection around noon and began explaining his findings to us. Fortunately, the report was great and we have very little to be concerned with. But let me just say that the moments in between his report and the point at which I understood that the house was in great condition were highly stressful.

I can only compare this sort of anxiety to when you go to the dentist and are forced to wait (while wearing a paper bib) to hear the fate of your bicuspids. You, as the average citizen, have absolutely no idea whether you will soon be told you have 14 cavities, or none; your entire fate is resting on the impending opinions of the specialist.

I like that life is full of all kinds of specialists that we can rely on. It just works out that everyone is good at different things and there's always someone to do what you need. I hope that on some level I am contributing to the balance!

This is What Happens When you Work at Petsmart:

I went "just to look." Right. Welcome home Bruno!

Dessert to be Reckoned With

We celebrated the purchase of our house by eating at Atlas Bistro. The best part about this place (aside from the dessert) is that you can bring your own wine. to start I had an appetizer of mushrooms in a goat cheese sauce, my entree was snapper in a black bean tostada. Jim started with a lobster appetizer and had pheasant for his entree. We shared two desserts: Strawberry Shortcake made with pound cake, vanilla cheesecake and strawberry compote, and Bananas Foster served over a homemade granola Belgian waffle with roasted pumpkin seeds and vanilla ice cream. I'm not sure where the idea of serving bananas, caramel and ice cream over a waffle came from, but it was insanely good. The pictures don't do it justice, I had to use my camera phone, but here's a blurred glimpse of the wonderfulness.

3-2-1-Contract

Tonight I had to review an 11-page contract on a house we might buy. The language in the document was incredibly confusing and seemed mostly like a bunch of jumbled legal-speak. Then I came across the section below which was the highlight of my day. The fact that this is in a legal document worded this way is hysterical to me.

“No party shall be responsible for delays or failure of performance resulting from acts of God, riots, acts or war, epidemics, power failures, acts of terrorism, earthquakes or other disasters, providing such delay or failure of performance could not have been prevented by reasonable precautions and cannot reasonably be circumvented by such party through use of alternate sources, workaround plans or other means…”

So basically...if God sends down the plagues again, and you are late sending in your deposit because you were caught in a field of locusts, it's ok, you won't be held responsible. Or, if there is a sudden resurgence of the bubonic plague, don't you worry your pretty little head, the seller understands. And you don't even have to ask, if there is a surprise war or riot on your way to sign escrow documents it's totally alright. Man, these real estate folks are super easy going.

Chihuly