Magic Mike and the Olympics

It's becoming increasingly obvious that I'm going to need more hours in a day to keep up with all the fab blogs I'm finding lately. I think I'm up-to-date on the ones I've been following, but now I've got a ton more I found by reading said blogs. You guys -- quit being so funny and entertaining. It's counter-productive.

Remember the other day when I told y'all about my really awesome new Wednesday night dinner plans? I just found out that a person Hubby and I know, let's call him "Todd", really and truly hates Magic Mike. Apparently, Dave was at a place where MM was entertaining one night and MM stayed at his table a little too long, which really annoyed Todd to the point of hatred. He said he will stay away from Beefs from  now on because apparently Magic Mike gives him unspeakable, debilitating anxiety*.

Really, Todd? Really? What exactly is it that annoys you so much about Magic Mike? Is it the card tricks? The magic? The fun puzzles to work out while you eat? The family-friendly jokes? The awesome balloon animals?

My dear friend Allison and her Daffy Duck balloon animal.

*Those are my words, not his, but I think hatred and fear are super close cousins, like so close they couldn't get married in WV.

So I am really baffled that a grown man would outwardly express his hatred of a mild-mannered restaurant magician whose only crime was interrupting this guy's dinner.  And Magic Mike doesn't even dress like a clown. Todd is dead to me.

Tonight are the Olympics, and I would know that even it I didn't read about it on several separate amazing blogs: (Salt Says , Magnolias and Mimosas and Be Awesome Instead who had a whole series about Canada this week in preparation for the wondrous events).

You guys? I am so in love with the Olympics. I always have been. My earliest memory of the Olympics was when I was 7 and it was Valentine's Day or around that day, and I got sick with some sort of bug. I got to stay home from school, watch the Olympics all day and got a crimping iron for Valentine's Day. Best. Day. EVER.

The Olympics inspire me to be a better athelete, which is saying a lot since I truly am the most unathletic person alive, have no coordination and am very lazy. During the 2008 summer Olympics, Hubby and I watched all the women's beach volleyball matches and I'm all, phhhssst I can do that and get a hot bod in the process! So we ran out and bought a volleyball to play on the sand court at our apartment complex and I was so ready to get totally ripped but it turns out that I'm really terrible at volleyball.

And I'm not gonna lie and tell you I wasn't moved to buy a pair of ice skates during some ill-adviced late night online shopping during another Winter Olympics.

And who can forget the 2000 Syndey Olympics when Michael Phelps busted onto the scenes with those tight abs and sexy arms. I had just started as a grad teaching assistant, teaching speech classes. All the TAs went out for lunch one afternoon and all the ladies in our group could do was watch in awe as Michael Phelps wiggled through the water with that itty bitty Speedo. Le sigh. (I love you Hubby.)

Besides all the hot bodies, there is also the element of "the whole world is coming together and putting aside its differences to celebrate the global language of sport and competition" but the hot bods trump that a little bit.

What's not to like about it? I bet Todd hates the Olympics as much as he hates Magic Mike.

This post is a little jumpy because 1) it's Friday and 2) it's 30 degrees outside IN FLORIDA and 3) it's 85 degrees in my office. My brain is a little melty and hyperactive simultaneously.

Who else is excited about the Olympics? If you wrote a blog post about it, put it in the comments.

Moving Day

I'm really tired today. Like hangover tired. Like up all night studying tired. I wish I could say it was because my weekend was bursting at the seams with fun, and that Kelsey and I went on some exciting adventures and took lots of pictures. I wish I had a good story to tell as to why I'm nursing my coffee cup, propping my eyelids open with paperclips, daydreaming of a nice nap and praying for 5 pm.

But nothing exciting happened this weekend. You see, I'm tired because my upstairs neighbor, let's call her BigFoot (due to the fact that she has the loudest footsteps EVER), moved out of her apartment. Beginning at 6 AM on Sunday morning.

For the past two mornings, we've been awakened by crashes and bangs and thumps. Sunday morning was by far the worst. I didn't even know moving companies booked moves on Sundays. At first I thought it was the cats, who have panic attacks when they see a closed door and won't rest until it's open. Then we realized the noise was directly above us.

So BigFoot is up there, and so are the moving guys, and they are bright eyed and ready to work at the crack of dawn. And they are pulling and lifting and hoisting and thrusting -- and occasionally dropping, I believe. This went on for an hour, and then the whole crew moved to another room, so we were able to catch a couple extra hours of sleep before hearing the noises again and getting up for good.

We thought we were in the clear when the moving van pulled away about 2 p.m., but it happened again this morning about 5 (except this time, no moving van, so who the heck knows what she was doing). Of course, we're both light sleepers who heard every bump, and when I wake up that close to my normal wakeup time, it's almost impossible for me to fall back asleep.

All in all, we've had about 13 hours of good, solid, REM cycle-type sleep in the past 48 hours.

I guess the upside of all this is that we'll have some peace and quiet for awhile. Maybe our next neighbor will have lightweight furniture, slight footsteps and a greater respect for their neighbors' sleeping patterns.