She's a Maniac, Maniac on the Dance Floor!

There is something about me that you probably don't know. I don't really talk about it much because I don't want to be perceived as a braggart. But today that's gonna change. Because I don't have anything else worth talking about.

I, my friends, am the Ellis Island of Aerobics. Yes...thank you very much...it is true. Cloaked somewhere in my pheromones is a scent that apparently screams,

"Give me your uncoordinated, your unbalanced, your spastic movers. Hey, YOU! Yeah, you...the one with the big hump on her shoulders! Get on over here, girlfriend! And while I'm at it, I'll also take the stealth farters and the people with no concept of personal space (which very sadly seems to go hand-in-hand with bad personal hygiene habits)."

I don't have any empirical evidence to support this claim other than the fact that every time I go to aerobics I find an empty spot as far away as possible from others. As soon as the music starts people lunge in my general direction, anxious to crowd around me. And in addition to the aforementioned groupies for some strange reason I also seem to attract those who do not speak any English (the language the class is taught in).

So this is why the rest of the class is perfectly synchronized and I look like I'm in the middle of a Saturday Night Live skit. It makes getting a good work out difficult because all I can focus on is not getting my toes stepped on and breathing through my mouth (so as not to smell anybody). The irony is that they all probably blog about ME saying, "Yeah, there is a girl in my class who danced a spastic jig, frantically pulling up her feet all the time. What a dork! PLUS she's a MOUTH breather! Ha ha ha ha ha!!!"

OK...you've had your stay. Head on back to Humor-Blogs!

Florida: The Good. The Bad. The Holy SHIT!!!

So you know...I live in Florida now. The good news is that my southern accent is stronger than ever - I think it was some sort of defense mechanism...of or for what, I have no idea. I definitely miss Atlanta and my friends, though, especially now. Spring in Atlanta is SO beautiful. But Florida is pretty nice, too. We go to the beach at least once a week and we all love having a pool in the backyard. Also, my husband makes me a Planter's Punch every night and I don't even feel guilty by knocking it back - we're on vacation, right?? A couple of weeks ago I was reading the news and saw this weird picture: In case your eyes can't make sense of it, I'll give you a hint. It's not a puppy. I'm guessing it's not an air freshener, either. It is, in fact, a Burmese Python that ruptured and now has a really big dead Alligator sticking out of it's stomach. Oh, and something ate the snakes head off. That's why there is no head there. National Geographic has

Oooohhh...I just LOVE when you wrap it around me... do it again, please?

I had heard that "crack" kills. I just never really believed it until I saw it with my own eyes. (Bless his heart.) About 3 years ago I was 6 months pregnant and had two daughters (aged 4 and 5). We were all traveling from Bellingham, WA to Atlanta, GA with a VERY brief layover in Dallas. We were booked on a major airline that should remain anonymous as they are a bunch of asshats (but they rhyme with "Mamerican Mairlines") and we had to leave for the airport at 3:30 AM in order to catch our 7AM flight. It was Suck City. By the time our car arrived in Seattle my husband and I were barely speaking to each other and the girls had marks on their faces and arms from the backseat smack-down they had while out of our reach. When I went to the counter to speak with the representative she informed me that even though our seats had been purchased many months ago and seat assignments had been given all of that had changed and we were no longer sitting together as a family. I

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke

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