Sub Heads

Trends Du Jour

Ok, so for those of you who haven't quite caught on yet, we (meaning my sis's, SILs, and other blog-stalking friends) are currently on a blogging bender featuring various Trends Du Jour.

"Excuse me, FLO, what's the Soup Du Jour?"
"It's the soup of the day"
"Mmmm, that sounds good. I'll have that."

Sorry, that just popped into my head and I'm currently lol-ing.

So anyway, we had the numbered post trend, the counting like Bono in your numbered post trend, and now it's the sub head trend. If none of this is making sense to you, you fall into one of two categories.

1. We're not related, or quasi-related.
2. You're not a very dedicated blog-stalker

So if you don't get it, and you'd like to, check out some of the blog links I've provided on the right. Some good ones that will help make sense of this whole thing are, Anna, Chrysta, Deb, and Nicole. If you're a blog-stalker who favors funny, hilarious, random blogs, I've just given you a gold mine. If you are not a blog stalker, and are just among my dedicated readers who, despite my weird-ousity, like to read what I write, I apologize for my recent trendiness. We all know I am anything but trendy.

Spandex

So, I recently commented to my friend-not-technically-SIL-butmightaswellbemy-SIL Deb, that I was not fond of the itty bitty's that wear spandex-everything-outfits to the gym. My dear sister Chrysta was quick to point out, and rightly so, that I spent about...oh...let's see...ummm...8 years of my life decked out in head-to-toe spandex for the sake of sport. Yeah, I get it. But I would, however, like to point out that I did not get to CHOOSE my uniforms. The good people at Cedar Crest High School and then at Shippensburg University chose them for me. I must admit, spandex are comfortable. To this day, if I'm playing volleyball (unless it's outdoors) I'm playing in spandex shorts, at least. I don't need the spandex top, but that wasn't too bad either. Just this summer when Bird and I worked volleyball camp, I wore spandex every day. However, being 5 months pregnant, I decided to hide my spandexed JTT's under a nice pair of comfy boy shorts. The point that I was trying to make to Deb was this: BUYING spandex, and wearing 100% spandex outfits to a public fitness center is unnecessary and I'll never do it and I don't like people who do. Ok?

The Olympics

So, I loved the Olympics. Didn't you? It left me feeling like I have the next four years to prepare for London...in what? I don't know. Javelin is out of the question since I pretty much destroyed my throwing elbow. Volleyball, too, is out of the question because...well...because I'm not that good (good...yes. Just not THAT good.) So I'm left to ask myself, "Self, what if you had taken up on that offer you got from the coach of the National Handball Team?" That's right. A little known fact, I was asked to try out for the National Handball Team right after I graduated from college. Weird, considering I've never played it, and still am not even sure HOW it's played. My college vb coach (who was a DI All-American vb player at Penn State) has athletic connections galore, and she knew the handball coach. He was apparently asking her if she knew any solid, well-rounded, overall athletic people, and out of EVERYONE she knew, she gave him MY NUMBER. Weird. I didn't think twice about it at the time, but as I watched the Olympics and saw "Handball" on the schedule, I couldn't help but think...could that have been me??

Weights

Ok, so all this talk of spandex has me in a sporty and reminiscent mood...so here's some more. One of my co-workers yesterday was asking me what kind of weightlifting I'd done in college as part of my athletic training. She's trying to establish her own workout regimen, and knew that I was in sports, so she hit me up for some tips. My favorite workout? The German Circuit. They should really call it the Nazi-German Circuit. Fo' shizzle. It goes like this...

Set up a circuit of power lifts, plyos, abs and other extras. Some of the power lifts: Hang Cleans, Squats, Push Press, Snatch, Dead Lift, Bench Press, Incline Press, Decline Press. Some plyos: Box Jumps, hurdle hops, lateral hops. Some abs: regular crunches, back hypers, flying eagles, roman chair. Some extras: Pull ups, push ups, lunges.

So, for any given circuit, coach would set up 12-13 of these exercises for us to do. One person would start at every station. Coach blows whistle. You start doing reps (at 75% of your max) and keep doing them for 30 seconds. Coach blows whistle to stop. You have 20 seconds to move to the next station. Coach blows whistle, do as many reps as you can in 30 seconds. Blows whistle to stop, and so on and so forth, continuously until you've done each station. Then you have two minutes to get a drink, go to the bathroom, or puke...you know, whatever you need to do. Then you repeat the circuit. Twice.

Boo-Yah. It was sick, and I loved it. I only ever threw up once, and that was my freshmen year.

I'm going to keep bragging about my athletic feats, because I am currently feeling huge and bloated and gross, and remembering them makes me feel less disgusting...

My senior year in college, I weighed 135 lbs and could bench press 125 lbs, squat 210 lbs, and Power clean 115 lbs. I don't remember any of my other maxes. But I was a beast. They called me Quadzilla. And yes, I looked good in my spandex. Moving on...

Nicole

Nicole recently stated, and I quote:

"Alyssa,

I agree with everything you have ever said. Ever. You are a genius. And skinny. But tough."

MWUAH HA HA HA HA!
Nicole, I'd like for you to meet my husband. And brainwash him. If that phrase had come out of his mouth, it would have sounded like this:

"Alyssa,

I disagree with everything you have ever said. Ever. Because it's funny to me. You are a genius. But not as genius as me. And skinny. Skinnier than me. But not tough. Wuss."

Obviously, he'd say it very lovingly, but the point is, the man likes to argue with me for the sake of arguing, usually over the stupidest things. He thinks it's funny to watch me get agitated by his asinine comments.

And for the record, I don't want to beat you up, Nicole. I was just saying that if I was in a fight, I'd kick trash. Actually, that's not true. I'm totally passive aggressive. And non-confrontational. I'd be the one to walk away, or let myself get pounded on. It's true...ask Bird. Growing up she used to beat the crap out of me. Not because she was stronger than me, but because I was so passive I wouldn't fight back more than enough to get out of her freakishly vice-like grip. No wonder she's a good masseuse. Anywhoo...many a time bird would just pound on me, or have me in a full-nelson and I'd just take it because I knew if I fought back she'd cry and mom would yell at me. I'd rather take a pounding from my lil sis than get yelled at by mom, or worse... DAD. There was only one time when I really retaliated, and I know for a fact that Bird remembers it well. I socked her in the stomach so hard she almost threw up. I remember Scott was babysitting, and she went crying to him. So I explained what she'd done to deserve it. And he was cool with it:)

It sounds weird to talk about how my lil sis and I used to fight. Isn't that something brothers do? I would just like to explain for those who might not know as much about the Kilgore clan as others, that I grew up with 4 older brothers who had a very strong influence on me. Was a tomboy? No. I was THE tomboy. But I digress...

Nicole, thanks for boosting my self-esteem. I hope I haven't written anything thus far to break my streak of saying only things that you agree with.

Side Pony Tails

So. I work with some 50+ year old lady who wears a side pony tail to work every day. Every day. I'm not kidding. Every day. ???

Freezing Cold Hands

I do not enjoy being touched by freezing cold hands. Yet, when my sister Bird stopped over last night, she delighted in touching me with them. She'd driven to my house last night (45 minute drive) with the windows down, thus leaving her hands morgue-cold. So. She came in and touched me on the belly, saying hello to Bean. And then decided to reach under my shirt (I wasn't wear my garment top, because I'd JUST gotten home from the gym, so it was just a t-shirt...darnit) and grab my belly with both hands. They were so cold that I literally jumped and almost fell backwards, and spit all over bird and the coffee table in the process. Not cool. You jerk.

PHS

Ah, dear PHS. I keep in touch with some former colleagues, and several former students, so I know what the dizzle at the palmizzle izzle. And here it is. There have been 3 fights so far this year! I think the kids are just acting out, because they want me to come back and LEGEND-ize them. Not gonna happen.

Made up words

I think if you've been reading this blog long enough, you probably realize that I like to make up words. It's just fun. I think this started when I spent the summer with 3-year old Taylor. She was fuuuuuuuuunny. That was the summer of everything being "loopy". And also the summer of me making her stand on her head, so she couldn't get away from me while I put sunblock on her. Mwuah ha ha. It was also the summer that I broke Sara and Jerry's lamp, and that Taylor immediately told on me when Sara walked in the door. "Aunt Lyssa broke the lamp." Thanks, ya little Narc! (I know you're reading this...jerkwadfacebutt!)

Adolescent Come backs

When I was younger I had some trouble expressing myself. So, I developed a few quick little retorts that worked well most of the time. They were:

"Shutup"

and

"I'll kill you"

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. I especially liked to use the second one on my brother Sam, who used to tell me I was really fat. Ah, brothers. Not as bad as my sis's friend Jamie Aerhart. I used to hide under the bed when she came over.

I'm not entirely dysfunctional

Perhaps some of you might be getting the impression that my childhood and family life were dysfunctional. Not at all...it was awesome growing up in my house. And by the time I got to high school, mom and dad were totally chill. Awwwwww yeah.

Goodbye, Subheads

This is the end of my subheads. It's been a good ride, SH. I'll never forget you!