Thank you Jen Macneil.

http://jenmacjen.blogspot.com/

When you say "HUGE"? Are you referring to my weight? Cause I don't know if that's really what I'm looking for. I'd like to be successful...but not fat. (just kidding of course)

you made my week.

So I learned how to sew last night.
I am sew excited to sew a something or two!
To celebrate the new education of my sewing skills I dedicate this entry to the bag I made last night.
Feast your eyes on the first of many (hopefully) Amanda Allan originals!

Props to Jennifer my friend from work for being my model.

You know those racks in stores like Marshalls and TJ Maxx where it's a circle, and all the sale stuff is all strewn in on hangers as tight as possible?
To my brother this used to be a haven of safety and hilarious fun.

My brother was notorious for escaping out of his strollers without my mother noticing...either that or my mother was notorious for not paying attention to her son while he wrestled out of the stroller and took off for freedom.

He had a trick to making it work. He would wait till my mother was engrossed in whatever store we were at and their AMAZING SALES...and would slip his one foot under the seat belt, then he would wriggle out and VIOLA...he was free. He made it look so easy.
A lot of the times he would crawl directly into one of the circle clothing racks and sit...and wait.
He would wait and wait for however long it would take. He sat there and watched the feet of mothers and grandmothers, teenagers, and nanny's you name it he watched them all with an amazing patience and sharp perception...he was the hunter and my mother was the game. Then the hunt began as soon as he saw his mother’s feet and empty stroller approach the rack.
As soon as my mother would reach to browse the clothes on the rack he would ever so slightly turn the rack. Most of the time she didn't catch on right away, thinking it was another shopper and trying not to be rude.
Then he would...and this was my favorite part...sprawl his arms on both sides of the rack, crawl up to where he could get leverage from the middle...and twirl and twirl.
The entire time laughing and freaking out at his success...
until the hand...
HER HAND came from up above grabbed him by whatever gave her enough to grab, be it hair, shirt or skin...catapulting him through the air, and back into that dreaded stroller.
It was at this point my mother would yell..."KEEP IT UP NICHOLAS AND PREPARE TO DIE" at volumes not intended for the meek.
Then the entire department store would get quiet, occasionally you would hear a "whoa" drift out of someone’s shocked expression.
My mother would fix her blouse...move to the next rack as if nothing important had happened and would fixate onto the next possible sale.

And yes...you guessed it. As she approached the next circle rack...he was already gone and waiting.

I like that show "so you think you can dance".
Sometimes when I watch it, I find myself inspired by the one min routines that they do for America and I stand up and do a one min routine for my cats.
They lay there staring at me while I dance around them as funny as I can...they sit there and do not move a muscle.
I dance harder trying to elicit a reaction.
Nothing.
I dance harder.
Nothing.
I dance so hard I am totally convinced that my neighbor will see me through the window...think I'm having a seizure call an ambulance which will then send my entire neighborhood on death watch*.
NOTHING.

I've decided that they should make cats the hosts of these talent show thingy’s.
The more they do not react...the funnier it gets...and the more you want it.


Boy do I want it...if I have to throw my hips out, I'm gonna get those cats to laugh.



*The death watch is the term I made up for what happens on my block when an ambulance stops on the street. Everyone comes out of their houses and stares to see if anyone has died. It's morbid and strange...but happens every single time.

In an effort to try and get hot...like "make your body talk" hot. I purchased a NIKE "Improve your indurance" MP3 on ITunes.
It's pretty rad...
This is how it works...they have a bunch of mixes thrown together for you to run to. There is a guys voice that comes on every once in a while and tells you to "slow down your pace" or to "kick it up!". He says things like "Push it...think about your goal" "You can do it, you are half-way there!"


When I was younger I would run to get away from my teenage angst. I had fire in my step and determination poured from my everything.
I would run and have conversations like this in my head:

"That's right, keep going! Pretty soon you will be able to beat the state record!
Get your speed up so you can beet that Lazenga girl (she was my rival)!
So what if he doesn't notice you...he will one day, especially if you keep it up!"

Now...
I sit in a gym, pushing myself to this pre-recorded jerkface workout and always have this conversation:

"Yay! You made it to the gym.
You are listening to a recording.
This guy sounds like Speed Racer.
If you stop he will never know.
This is a recording.
No one will know.
Just stop.
No...keep going, you want a hot tummy and butt....keep going.
No You should stop. You know you are goinng to get wings after this anyways".

And I do.
I do go get the wings afterwards.