"The Cancun Slim Down." by Tregg

Calling all readers of LIOHI:  I am mere weeks away from a family vacation to Cancun (thanks, you guys!) and I have been (half-heartedly) preparing my body for a virtual skin parade while at the pool and on the beach.

To catch you up to speed:  I have been exercising.  Granted, not a ton, but I am trying to do the most effective workouts I've done in, well, forever.  Outdoor running/jogging/hiking, indoor treadmill, weight training, and abdominal and core work are the name of the game.  On the food front, I am doing my absolute best to cut out starches after lunch, protein and veggies for dinner, and scrambled eggs (2 yolks, 3 whites) for breakfast.  I am doing pretty well, but these next few weeks are key.

I leave on March 12th for a week.  If anyone has any tips on last minute, but not too excruciating, diet/workout regimens, I'd appreciate it.  

Let's slim down, LIOHI just in time for the new summer beach season.

But don't you dare tell me to cut out alcohol.  Refer to our Bacardi and Diet post from months ago.

P.S.  Is the guy in that picture real or animated?  And is he wearing blue and black?  HATES IT.

Pride. Commitment. No Excuses.

More to come on the subject later.

Sneak preview:  Don't confuse me.

LaLoves It

Wow. We can't remember seeing Lindsay Lohan looking this good since...

Since...

Well, ever.

Whatever Sam Ronson is selling, we'll take twelve. Kudos, Lesbos.

Snap, Snap to That Shit on the Radio

Fuck me dead.

Movie Review: "He's Just Not that Into You"; by Nicole

Apparently the folks who adapted this book into a screenplay just weren't that into not giving movie goers a happy ending.

I've read this book, and it's like a soft-cover bitchslap with a dedication. The general message is this: "Hey - that guy doesn't like you. Stop texting him twice in a row. He's a douche. You're worth more. Move on. That'll be $16.95, please."

The message of the movie however is this: "Hey - that guy doesn't like you. But he will in 90 minutes, so hang in there! That'll be $16.95, please."

Though, I must say, the film was pretty funny and highly entertaining. It will make for a fun drinking game when it comes out on DVD. I mean, the possibilities are endless!

Ginnifer Goodwin puts hair behind her ear - take a shot.
Scarlett Johansson wears an ugly shirt inexplicably tucked into her jeans - take a shot.
Jennifer Aniston reminds us of every other character she's ever played ever - take a shot.

The biggest challenge lied in not screaming out "Hello, I'm a Mac!" everytime Justin Long appeared on screen.

Movie not as good as the book - take a shot.

"A Tale of Two Hickeys" by Tregg

Wanna take a trip down memory lane with me?

For some reason, this story always sticks in my head, and lately I felt it would make for an entertaining post.  I hope you agree.

Picture it:  Springfield, OH, November 2004.

I had recently been talking to a guy who will remain nameless.  Not to protect the innocent, but to not give this horrendous individual more attention than he deserves.  Long story short, this tale does not ultimately end well, but within the confines of the time period this story will retell, it is a pleasant experience.  

I invited this certain individual over one evening to see a play on campus with me.  We had a good time, and he ended up spending the night.  This was our first time doing anything together more than going to a bar or having dinner, so it was a fun evening.  The night was very innocent, let the record show, but as I saw him off the next day, he noticed there was a hickey on my neck.

He said,  "What's that on your neck?"  in a tone that clearly indicated he knew I didn't burn myself with a curling iron or trip and fall on a vacuum hose. 

Playfully, I replied, "Oh, I don't know..." and kind of smiled at him.  He gave me a semi-confused look back and got in his car and drove away.

A few days go by and we are talking on the phone, and I tell him that I had fun the night he stayed over.  He sounded kind of unsettled, and replied, "Honestly, I was kind of upset that morning when I left?"  I asked him why he would be upset, seeing as how I thought he had a good time.  He replied:

"Well, you had a hickey on your neck."

"Yeah, that was from you."

"....oh, it was?  I didn't realize I gave you one.   Really?  Wow, that's embarrassing, sorry"

He thought that I had someone else over and got a hickey from them in a recent enough amount of time that it wouldn't have faded by the time I invited him to stay over?  I'm not sure what the technical definition of slutty is, but I'm sure that would qualify for at least one of its meanings.  And I'll have you know, I am no slut.

I've always enjoyed thinking about that.  Imagining him driving home thinking even though our new "relationship" or sorts had just started and wasn't exclusive, that I would be promiscuous enough to have multiple people to choose from that could give me hickeys.  Who even gives hickeys these days anyway?

Later on in the week, I was changing after dance class and our male instructor whom I always assumed loved it walked past me and said:

"I see that thing on your neck, you bad boy."

"I, uhm....it's razor burn...?"

"If you text it, I'll delete it" by Tregg

I learned a very important lesson from my People magazine.

My mom graciously signed me up for a subscription of People magazine so I can stay current on all of the most important aspects of world news:  celebrity gossip.  If I had to choose a favorite section, but please don't make me, I would say the survey on the last page where they ask celebrities a question and then post their answers in a thought bubble beside a picture of them.  Most often banal responses come out of our favorite stars' mouths, but every once in awhile there is a real gem.

Take for instance, the survey:  "What is one of your dating 'don'ts'?"  There were a few lame answers like "Bring breath mints," and "Don't order garlic," which although helpful are not exciting.

Then comes along Taylor Swift.  A girl who, at 19 years old, as already dated more famous people than I ever will in my whole life.  Her answer was perfect, and although skews more toward today's younger generations in terms of effective dating advice, the principle of her comment can apply to all.

She responded, "Never send two text messages in a row."  And in that single sentence, she unlocked the problem to every failed relationship I have ever had to this date.

Think about it, given the speed at which communication can be transmitted these days, don't you get a little anxious when an instant message, email, text message, MySpace message, Facebook chat message, phone call, etc, isn't returned promptly?  We all know that the 20 somethings of the world are glued to these forms of technology to some degree of addiction.  But I won't stumble down the well-worn path of my senior thesis in college or the plot of He's Just Not That Into You.  I will merely applaud you, Taylor Swift.

I am ever so guilty of sending a text message that I think is flirty and witty, and I get increasingly anxious that it is not returned within, oh, five minutes.  I do realize the recipient has a job, a life, friends, old episodes of American Idol on their DVR, but I feel hopelessly invalidated by silence in the dating world.  So what do I do?  I text again.  CORRECTION:  What did I used to do?  I text again.  But I don't say "Oh, did you get my last message?" or "Did your meeting run long?"  I text something else.  Something unrelated and witty, making it impossible to respond to both my last text and the new text in one message because the topics are so unrelated.  

But I am turning over a new leaf.  I will now send a text message confidently;  I'm still my flirty, witty self, but I will not allow time for the recipient to respond.  Who needs additional anxiety in their life?  Dating is hard enough.

Thanks, Taylor Swift.

What Price Clean? by Tregg.

Today as I was going to my parking garage to move my car out so my roommate could leave before me (damn tandem parking), I had to wait for the elevator to come back down to the bottom level before I could return to my apartment.  I couldn't believe that someone had called for the elevator in the minimal amount of time it took to get in my car, let my roommate out, re-park and head back over to the elevator.  Luckily, it came back down in an expedient fashion, so my frustration subsided.  As the doors opened, I noticed the cleaning supplies left in the elevator which only could mean one thing.  The cleaning crew for my building was here, which is a surprise since today is Friday.  However, I figured a clean building is a happy building, and I silently commended them for coming twice this week.

As I rode the three flights up back to my apartment to eat my breakfast that was waiting for me and had inevitably cooled to a temperature slightly below what I like to consume food, I stared into the bucket containing the cleaning supplies.  Standard, generic label products rest there, as I suspected given the fact no cleaning crew ever buys name brand.  However, one stand-out item alarmed me more than others.  There was an aerosol spray can, possibly window cleaner, that had rusted around the top where the nozzle is.  My question is:  How on earth could this can still have cleaner in it for a long enough period of time that it would accumulate rust?

I'm not sure how cleaning crews for apartment building work.  Perhaps they store supplies at each location and simply move the crew from place to place.  Or they might pack their supplies and travel as a full caravan, workers and supplies, to each property that KMK Management controls in Los Angeles.  Either way, they are at least cleaning my building once, or in today's case twice, a week using the same products.  If they take their products to other buildings, then the amount of use of each product goes up exponentially.

I ask you, devoted readers of LIOHI, when was the last time you owned anything that rusted?  If you have, I'm sure it was sooner than later discarded and replaced.  How little cleaning is my building doing?  What was in that can?  Is the thing being cleaned by that can also getting sprayed with rust particles?

I'm taking another shower today.

"Because your kiss is on my list - and it's also the SICK ASS of the Week." By Nicole

Picture, if you will, this scenario:

A lovely spring evening in 2003. You and Dude* (* = name has been changed to protect the hates its) end a great date by rolling around in his double bed. The fun of the evening is only made better by the fact that Dude happens to be a great kisser. Thank God. The next day you wake up with swollen lips and a swollen sense of accomplishment.

Fast forward a few years...you and Dude stage a catch-up at a local bar. You end the date by (sort of) rolling around in his car. The fun of the evening is...wait. Hang on a damn minute. What the hell is he doing? Why is my chin wet? Could it be??? Dude has become -

A BAD KISSER!!!!!!!!!

Has this shit ever happened to you?? I don't understand it but I've seen it at least three whole times. Time does not matter. I've seen the shift occur over a span of two months and up to two years. It's like these guys take some How-to-Become-a-Horrible-Kisser Master Class while we're away. Is there a tutorial? Does Sally Struthers hock the courses in commercials between back episodes of This Old House?

What the eff is going on?!?

I don't know, but I personally HATES IT. If you're gonna be a good kisser you'd better keep that shit up. You can't just all of a sudden decide to let your tongue flap around all wills-nills. Seriously. That would be like Carrie Bradshaw opting to echew the Manolos and start shopping at Fayva.

Sick ASS.

"I have the hottest friends." -by Tregg

This blog isn't going to make me any friends, but I have been thinking about writing it for a long time, so I'm just going to write it.  Bring on the consequences, this is America.

I have noticed for years now, ever since the glorious invention that brought photographs to Facebook (yes, there indeed was a time where you could only have a profile photo on Facebook, and no albums.  Atrocious, right?) that most people aren't very creative with photo captioning.  I have come to terms with this, since most people's crafting of the English language is markedly sub-par.  But one common theme I've noticed in several people's photo captioning occurs when there are a large group of people posing but not doing anything out of the ordinary to comment on.  You may have known this too, and I'm willing to bet you've thought the same thing.

What is the caption, you may ask?  If you haven't guessed by now, I'll tell you.

To give an example:

Posing for a picture with some hotties

Now... let me explain my beef with this.  I am not exactly saying everyone in this photo is ugly.  However, I think it's safe to say that no one is GORGEOUS.  Society, and individuals for that matter, are very attune to beauty and can certainly pick it out of a crowd.  The question I pose is:  why draw more attention to the already plainness of the company you keep by calling them HOT?  

I would understand this label if said people in photo were dressed up for a special occasion.  A wedding, birthday dinner, or some important work function.  But if you are wearing casual clothes, throwing your arms over each other, and are standing underneath a drop ceiling, I'd venture to say no one would look hot.

I'm not sure what side of this problem I am taking issue with.  The lack of creativity involved in captioning photos, or the lack of awareness people have for their surroundings.

I know, I'm going to hell.

But let the record show:  this image was saved under the name "Erica and Paul pose with ugly people.jpg" by someone that wasn't me.  I typed "ugly people" into Google Images and found it.  Try and see.  

At least that person was more honest.

"Whoa, a little harsh, Gretch."