tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21511877534597373142024-03-13T20:37:50.466-07:00Planet PostPartumOne Blog... on a mission.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-25502746811532415092010-03-23T20:17:00.000-07:002010-03-23T20:22:08.071-07:00Rinks at 6 months... Bald little cutie.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFPSxM_hI/AAAAAAAAAmM/7yQi7R9TgpI/s1600-h/Rinks_0041.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFPSxM_hI/AAAAAAAAAmM/7yQi7R9TgpI/s400/Rinks_0041.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035321691438610" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFOtD1wPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/On-rfWXKdHU/s1600-h/Rinks_0079.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFOtD1wPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/On-rfWXKdHU/s400/Rinks_0079.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035311569060082" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFFH6DOBI/AAAAAAAAAl8/iwexMI82Y9Q/s1600-h/Rinks_0398.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFFH6DOBI/AAAAAAAAAl8/iwexMI82Y9Q/s400/Rinks_0398.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035146977064978" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFE3M49WI/AAAAAAAAAl0/H9Dv7ODQ6Kw/s1600-h/Rinks_0327.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFE3M49WI/AAAAAAAAAl0/H9Dv7ODQ6Kw/s400/Rinks_0327.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035142492681570" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFEvrRTpI/AAAAAAAAAls/39KnoMX81A4/s1600-h/Rinks_0317.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFEvrRTpI/AAAAAAAAAls/39KnoMX81A4/s400/Rinks_0317.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035140472622738" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFEGDyJ0I/AAAAAAAAAlk/1W3LTwsNVYU/s1600-h/Rinks_0097.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFEGDyJ0I/AAAAAAAAAlk/1W3LTwsNVYU/s400/Rinks_0097.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035129301149506" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFDml-2nI/AAAAAAAAAlc/_ZYC_-NOFd8/s1600-h/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S6mFDml-2nI/AAAAAAAAAlc/_ZYC_-NOFd8/s400/4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452035120854653554" /></a>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-39105679172776938792010-02-11T17:47:00.001-08:002010-02-11T18:06:03.967-08:00Packin' Up... Movin' Out.Hey Folks, <br /><br />I wanted to let you all know that I will be moving this Blog here- <a href="http://freedingo.blogspot.com">http://freedingo.blogspot.com</a>. Why? You ask. Well, as it turns out I will be writing in the new LiveSouthNash magazine as a columnist of sorts and will include my blog in each article. That being said, Ashley (the hubby) asked me if I would, for the love of God, take him off the damn blog. His words. Not mine. So I will keep this blog for friends and family to keep up with pictures of the family and such, but will continue my writings (and my challenge) on the new blog. So PLEEEEESE follow me on this new blog as I will be trying to build it up in my quest for World Domination. Also, I wanted to tell all of you who currently read this (who are you? I have no idea, but I appreciate you) that I want to expand my challenge and "Keep The Change" movement to go beyond me. As much as I love to talk about myself (let's be honest), I do tire of writing about myself and would love to hear from you and your challenge to change something in your life. In doing so, I will intermittedly post some of your stories of change and inspiration so that we can all grow from them for the better. So from here on out, please follow me on my new blog... and join in!! What is something that you would like to change? How can you get unstuck, to get out of your rut? It could be physical, spiritual, relationship, or financial. The sky is the limit.<br /><br />mg<br /><a href=" http://freedingo.blogspot.com"></a>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-90143247689438004812010-02-08T20:34:00.000-08:002010-02-08T21:51:18.821-08:00Day 14- Fit HappensWeekend update: A Nacho/Pasta/Cheeseburger Food Orgy. It wasn't good. No weight loss- huge shocker.<br /><br />Coming off of this weekend I am more inspired than ever to get back on track and push toward my goal. So in doing this, I scheduled a consult with a local trainer, let's call her Kristin. I make my way to the gym amidst the falling snow (seriously, are we in Alaska?), anxious for my consult with a professional to guide me in my fitness goals. And so I arrive, and I wait. And I wait. And I wait. Apparently Kristin has double booked herself and is busy with another consult. I try to brush off my annoyance and put on my happy face when she FINALLY arrives, looking forward to her much needed advice. She greets me in a tone that is less than enthusiastic, and begins taking my stats. This is when I find out how where I stand in the fitness world. As it turns out, I am a lard ass. With 37% body fat, it ain't good folks. Kristin makes sure to tell me this, twice. I begin telling her about my 60-day challenge and she looks at me as if I am growing a third arm out of my forehead, so I just shut my mouth instead and listen to her tell me that vegtables are good, sugar is bad, and to work out 5 days a week. Genius, Kristin, Genius. So to make a long story even longer, my visit with the "professional" was pointless and depressing. I guess the lesson here is, if you're gonna get something done, you gotta do it yourself. So I have decided to plan my fitness training with three days of 45 minutes Cardio and two days of Weight Training and 30 minute Cardio, no thanks to Kristin.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-39217981569509916712010-02-06T09:59:00.000-08:002010-02-06T10:40:04.816-08:00Oh heavenly dayLast night's dinner was my cheat meal for the week and I have been gearing up for the past couple of days, preparing myself for it like I was an Olympic competitive eater. My pick for this illicit rendevous was Mama Mia's in Nashville (if you have not been there, stop what you are doing and run there right now, run I say!) and my food mistress did not disappoint. Let's be clear, I have no restrictions on my cheat meal, it is a no judgement zone where I am free to let my inner fat girl run wild (whose name happens to be Edna- stay out of her way because she will cut a bitch- you've been warned). So there we sat, Edna and I, and indulged in bruschetta and calamari to start. Then made our way to the bread sticks that I'm pretty sure were fried in garlic butter and almost brought me to a Meg Ryan re-enactment in "When Harry Met Sally." I chose the seafod fetticine Alfredo for my main course, and even though I am starting to realize I have a possible shellfish allergy, it was totally worth the hives and throat swelling. It's a small price to pay... For Edna's sake. So now it's back to business until next week.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-6340215540500427592010-02-04T19:45:00.000-08:002010-02-04T20:43:28.214-08:00Day 11: She's a Maniac, Maniac on the Floor...Let's gather around shall we to form the Circle of Truth. Confession: I need an attitude adjustment. For the last two weeks I have been avoiding cardio like Howie Mandel at a hand shaking convention. So tonight I decided that I am going to convince myself that I love cardio- that cardio is my life. And you know what? It worked! I got on that Ellyptical machine (my former arch nemesis) and turned up my IPod louder than safe or necessary and for the next 30 minutes I pretended that I was starring in every music video to the song playing. While daydreaming that I am Fergie I begin to notice a few looks being tossed my way. Oh yes, <em>Mama is back</em>, I think to myself. I am wearing my capri leggings with fitted v-neck top (I am a firm believer that if you dress the part, your performance is better- this applies to many areas in life by the way) and so I am feeling pretty confident and in top form. However, as I look closer in the mirror, I realize in horror that these <em>stretch</em> capri leggings aren't actually supposed to stretch this much which has resulted in what appears to be more pantyhose-like mesh than actual pants. Needless to say, showing my ass took on a whole new meaning for me and my fellow gym members tonight. You're welcome.<br /><br />All inappropriate nudity aside, my goal is to make it to 45 minutes at least 4 times a week, but like I said earlier, baby steps. I am now starting to understand that I am going to have to step up my game if I am going to make my goal while keeping it feasible to a lifestyle adaptation. So here's to change within the change!Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-22788567889716406832010-02-02T18:59:00.000-08:002010-02-02T19:20:35.716-08:00Day 9- Me Want Cookies!!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Setting: Subway Restaurant, Lunch time...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Me: Hi. I will have the 6 inch turkey breast, wheat, toasted, with lettuce, peppers, and vinegar.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Subway sandwich artist: Hey! You no come in here for a while. Where you been?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Me: I...er... uh... have been busy, so yeah, I guess it's been awhile.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Subway sandwich artist: You no want cookie today? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Me: No thanks, not today.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Subway sandwich artist: You always get cookies! You no want cookies anymore! (laughing)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Me: (Sigh) No. (Truth? I would have traded my dog, sorry Buddy, for a cookie right then but I am making baby steps.) </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Point? You know it's bad when the subway sandwich artist mocks your ability to "step away from the cookie." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Either way, Mandi- 1. Cookie- 0. A Change is comin' people!! </span>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-23202429294718417992010-02-01T20:17:00.000-08:002010-02-01T20:48:24.284-08:00Tweak it Out<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Day 8: I. Am. Exhausted. I have a sneaking suspicion that my 5 month old is teething. This has been confirmed in the last 24 hours where I have gotten less than 5 hours of sleep and a very grumpy boy on my hands. Needless to say, this has affected my motivation to go to the gym today (i.e.-my fat ass hasn't come within 2 miles of a weight machine) but I have redeemed myself with a modest diet. I have come to realize that I need to tweak my workout routine in order to achieve the most effective results (as opposed to now where I go in and mindlessly wonder around the weight room like Britney Spears at a Library) so I am going to consult a professional to put together a routine. I have a feeling that more cardio is in my immediate future.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Watch out love handles, I'm looking at you! </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">P.S.- I have decided that I will post my progress more than once a week, since it keeps me more accountable. I will start posting daily so keep checking back! </span>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-61594247116761524992010-01-26T14:53:00.000-08:002010-01-31T18:21:38.399-08:00Week 1: Facing the Giant (reflection in the gym mirror)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Day 1: I won't lie. I was not rearing to go on this Monday morning. I woke up tired thanks to baby Rinks and his insistence on waking up at 4am but I reminded myself that perserverence is key. Well, that and I already posted my plan on a blog for everyone to see so to slack on day 1 would be pretty sad, even for me. My plan is to eat a diet following the blueprint of a lean protein, a starch, and a leafy green at each meal, all within 1,400 calories with one "cheat meal" per week (if you want details on my diet, let me know and I will be happy to bore you with my day to day meals). I also joined the gym (dom, dom, dom) where I am doing a weight training schedule 4 days a week (alternating muscle groups), cardio 2 days a week, and 1 rest day. I chose this because I really like weight training and really <em>don't</em> like cardio, so I figured I need to go with what I think I will stick with long term. So I started with shoulders/back/legs today and I was surprised that I was able to pick up where I left off before pregnancy, although things seem to be flapping a little more these days.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Day 2: This whole pressure cooker approach to reaching my goal seems to be working well for me. I haven't been tempted to cheat in a whole 48 hours! This, my friends, is a revelation. I am starting to cook more and this definitely helps with knowing exactly what you are eating. Word to the wise, do not wear sleeveless to the gym when you are just starting out because chances are you will do as I did tonight and completely focus on your back fat waving at you as you do chest fly's and be tempted to go home and eat 6 ice cream sandwiches. (Oh wait, is that just me?)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Day 3: I literally rolled out of bed this morning, unable to bend my legs or torso. But today is Ashley's (my husband) birthday and we are going out tonight, so the show must go on. In preparation for this, I kept my eating clean the whole day so I could have a little room to play for dinner- which I kept clean by ordering the shrimp skewers and broccoli (impressed? Me too). Confession: I had three... ok, four bites of his Brownie Obsession dessert but I consider this a victory as the old me would have taken it hostage. I didn't work out today because I didn't have time due to the birthday celebration, so I decided to make this day my "rest" day which worked out well since I can't move my arms. Flexibility, there's an App for that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Day 4: I got on the scale this morning (against all the expert's advice) and I have lost 2 pounds! So what if it's water weight, or I can't walk without holding on to the nearest object; I feel like I just won the weigh-in on the Biggest Loser. Victory is Mine!! Tonight was a challenge as my friend asked me to dinner at a pizza joint. Oh what to do, what to do? She is a skinny bitch and ordered Fetteccine Alfredo (seriously?) and it took every fiber of my being not to dive face first into her plate and molest her meal right there at the table. Maybe I haven't evolved as far as I'd like to think. Anyway, I restrained myself and ordered a thin crust veggie pizza with a (tiny) green salad... all while fantasizing about her meal the whole time. Nope, definitely haven't evolved. I got back to my weight routine tonight at the gym where the florescent lights were very cruel to my arms. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Day 5: I am Miss Fitness 2010. Today, amidst the falling snow and sleet, I took my happy ass to the gym and worked out among the exclusive dedicated hard bodies. As it turned out, I was the only one there with sleeves or cellulite but I didn't care, I was high on my newfound discipline. A page has been turned people.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Day 6: What do you do when a huge ice storm comes into your town and traps you in your home? Apparently, if you live in my house then you eat pizza ALL DAY long and start drinking at noon. Needless to say, I fell off the wagon and landed on a large cheese pizza. But guilt is a useless emotion so I refuse to feel guilty about it and will just come back tomorrow with renewed motivation. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Day 7: Drum roll please... I am sitting here 2 pounds lighter than I was when writing you last week! A small victory in this journey to uncover the potential that this body is capable of and ultimately the change that we are all capable of. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Weight Loss to date: 2 pounds! Stay tuned for more to come...</span>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-68286909875426340312010-01-25T21:01:00.000-08:002010-01-25T21:43:51.520-08:00You-Can-Change-Anything-In-60-Days Campaign<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Those that know me know that I love change. Self Improvement, awareness, these are a few of my favorite things. So I am starting a movement- a You-Can-Change-Anything-In-60-days campaign that celebrates the ability to change anything you want. To get unstuck. So I have made my first goal a fitness one (because let's face it, I am shallow and vain) in which I will turn this flab into fab, and I will document it every step of the way for your enjoyment, inspiration, and my accountability. I will be completely honest with my stats, achievements, and shortcomings so as to make this process as authentic as possible. The start date is today, January 25, 2010 and will make my end date March 25, 2010. Will I be able achieve my total goal in 60 days? No, my ass is bigger than it appears. But the point is to establish a routine/lifestyle that will support my ultimate long term goal of being fit and proud of the skin I'm in. I will post new updates everyweek documenting the previous week and recording stats. If you are reading this, feel free to make your own goal (fitness or not) and join me on this blogging journey! So here we go... (deep breath)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Starting Stats: </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Weight- 180 </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Chest- 44 </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Waist- 35.5 </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Hips- 45 </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Thighs- 26 (if your waist is, or ever has been this size; then you my friend, can suck it.) </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Arms- 13.25 </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">60 day Goal Stats:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Weight- 160</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Chest- 40</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Waist- 30</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Hips- 40</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Thighs- 23</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Arms- 11</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Pics will be coming soon... Be afraid, be very afraid. </span>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-75774245263414581012010-01-14T13:41:00.000-08:002010-01-22T14:59:51.319-08:00Thirty, Flirty, and a little bit Dirty...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well the day came and went, and just like that, I quietly slipped out of my 20's and into my 30's. And even though it's just another label, a silly little number; I couldn't help but reflect on where I've been and where I am at. I will admit it, for a few fleeting moments I mourned the loss of the irresponsibility and selfishness of my 20's and the reverie of taking the world by storm. After all, by this time I was supposed to be a top fashion designer with my own line of Jeans called Virtue (don't laugh, I was 2o) while married to Leonardo DiCaprio (in his Titanic days) with two model-like children running around at my Jimmy Choo encased feet as I balanced my life of power mogul, wife, and mother... all while keeping a perfect figure (because of course I would have my own trainer and chef). But the reality is I am a nobody by Hollywood's standards; the wife of a hardworking Mississippi boy, an employee of the Corporate world, and mother to the most beautiful little boy I could have imagined (at least I got that part right!) with dreams that I still haven't accomplished and bad habits I still haven't broken. And I am ok with that. Actually, I am more than ok with that. Because what I have learned in my 20's and will take with me into my 30's is that authentic relationships in your life is true fulfillment, that family is the key to happiness and total madness, and that best girlfriends will keep you sane.<br /><br />So in honor of my favorite magazine, O, I have decided to write this next segment of<br />"Things I know for Sure."<br /><br />1.) Cellulite is not the end of the world. As it turns out, confidence covers a multitude of sins.<br /><br />2.) Trying to be perfect and not show your vulnerabilities makes you look like an ass. And nobody likes a big ass.<br /><br />3.) Cursing actually relieves tension. (Go ahead, scream out the "F" word! Just not at your neighbor)<br /><br />4.) Trying to change your spouse will not make you or them happy. Here's a hint: It's probably you who needs to do the changing.<br /><br />5.) Accept people the way they are. You never know what somebody has been through, so try to understand.<br /><br />6.) If you want to get your way, be KIND. Kindness always trumps a bad attitude. Nobody wants to help a jerk.<br /><br />7.) It's not how much money you make, but how much debt you have.<br /><br />8.) There is nothing worse than a know-it-all, so even if you do know it all; keep it to yourself.<br /><br />9.) Having a child is a big (and exciting) part of your life, but it's not the only part of your life. So keep some of it for yourself. </span><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">10.) Life is not about making something of yourself, but rather getting over yourself.<br /><br />11.) No matter what you do, or how you look; there is somebody out there that does it better and looks better doing it, so just do what you love and love yourself while doing it. On the flip side, there is probably someone who has it worse than you do, so stop complaining already.<br /><br />And those, my friends, are words to live by. So here's to stripping away the old, and starting fresh with the new- a new sense of self, a new appreciation, and new hopes and dreams. </span></p><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Happy 30th to me.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426729513369733442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S0-dvYiICUI/AAAAAAAAAkc/U4ilhkzUDtY/s400/BMoFoto+106.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426729516488463234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/S0-dvkJsE4I/AAAAAAAAAkk/-SivyHfnPyI/s400/166_10.jpg" border="0" />Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-43034754216070709372010-01-04T19:47:00.000-08:002010-01-04T20:23:33.869-08:00Aw Naw, they done did it now!Just when I thought that Reality TV couldn't trudge any lower in our moral gutters (see: Jersey Shore, Every MTV show ever made, Real Chance at Love), ABC shows up in their media garbage truck and dumps "Conveyor Belt of Love" in our laps. Yes, you read that right. Living up to its name, 5 women ranging from Buxom Blonde to mediocre Girl Next Door line up in front of a conveyor belt with paddles in hand that read "Interested" on one side and, you guessed it, "Not Interested" on the other. And sure enough, they parade 30 different men out on a FREAKING conveyor belt (one at a time) for the women to choose like the Fresh Catch of the day. They can then "trade up" their catch for the next best man coming down the pike, literally. Of course, as if that is not degrading enough, ABC encourages the guys to wow the women with their own style and personality to which some interpret with a Speedo (there was no wowing going on there), a full on American Indian get up (this was just weird), and then the typical Nashville Singer-Songwriter-Badboy-Who-Really-Wants-To-Change (Gag-A-Maggot). After settling on their prize Hens (or Roosters in this case), the couples then set out on a date to find out more about each other... like their name and age (surprisingly, the couples didn't have much of a chance to talk beforehand seeing that their date was ON A CONVEYOR BELT). The only saving grace on this God forsaken show was the funny, incredibly average, chubby guy actually got the girl over the Bad Boy Singer proving that there may be a God after all, but even He has to be cringing.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-80623878480121664232009-12-13T20:12:00.001-08:002009-12-13T20:17:49.015-08:00Team CougarSo how old does he <em>technically</em> have to be in order for me not to qualify as an all out pedophile?<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414940716089472642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SyW75EZP9oI/AAAAAAAAAkU/ut14YPVTe0w/s400/-jake-jacob-black-9211699-500-333.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div> Geez.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-32494261462189592192009-11-21T20:37:00.000-08:002009-11-21T21:07:06.381-08:00Rebel without a ClueMuch like Sarah Palin, Ashley has gone Rogue on me. Back in the good ole' days I would shop for Ashley and he never bucked the system. He mindlessly put on anything that I bought him (which was usually likened to that of Justin Timberlake) and wore it without any complaint. He got a personal shopper out of the deal, and I got to dress him up like my own real life Ken doll- it was a win/win for all involved. Now, however, he has decided to have a fashion mind of his own and is RUINING my secret agenda of turning him into David Beckham (to which I can then lose 95 pounds and turn into Posh). Take Exhibit A: Yesterday I bring home a perfectly trendforward Flannel shirt that is so popular right now (see my inspiration below) and instead of <em>just putting the damn thing on</em>, he snubs it, and says he wants his style to be Classic, not trendy. Really?? Where is he getting these outlandish ideas? And when will I ever get my Ken Doll back?!? Now my master plan to get him in a Fedora will NEVER work. Sigh.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406788568852916514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SwjFjpYe6SI/AAAAAAAAAkE/1lEtfomP2nQ/s400/david-beckham-435.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><br /></p><br /><p>P.S.- Speaking of Going Rogue, will someone please send the memo to Levi Johnston that the subscribers of PlayGirl... aren't actually girls?? Somebody lied to him. <em>Gross.<br /></em></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406788573462429826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SwjFj6jegII/AAAAAAAAAkM/LRxycv-We8A/s400/levi-johnston-320.jpg" border="0" />Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-19572657467229739262009-11-19T16:12:00.000-08:002009-11-19T16:19:04.777-08:00They Grow up so fast...It's official, my child is a Genius. He made his first Thanksgiving turkey today in day school... actually it is more like a chicken nugget... and he may have been asleep when they handprinted him, but still... not bad for an 11 week old. Like I said, genius. ;) Here it is, along with a pic of him on picture day! Ha! <div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405972919063710994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SwXfulIsjRI/AAAAAAAAAj0/c_ur9Tzrr18/s400/100_1474.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><p> </p><p align="left"> Picture Day!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405972923474634850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SwXfu1kV6GI/AAAAAAAAAj8/TDtwXzBjXyY/s400/100_1473.jpg" border="0" /></p>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-89720970465260531322009-11-17T19:25:00.000-08:002009-11-17T20:02:08.020-08:00The Parking Lot ChroniclesFunny things happen when you are sitting in the back of a Kohl's parking lot while pumping breastmilk- yes, this is what my life has succomb to. Since there is nothing to do but look out the window at the goings-on around you, that is what I did... and then I made up stories in my mind to go with what I observed. Behold how my sick mind works:<br /><br />To my right, a middle-aged woman is cramming a candy bar in her mouth while subconciously looking around at voyers (a.k.a.- me), I suspect she is a closet eater and has food hidden in such places as her floor mat, panty drawer, and probably an urn on her mantle that she tells people holds the remains of her dead cat- who just died and has contributed to her emotional eating- and is now logging her 6th candy bar for the day only to bury the guilt by shopping... for shoes.<br /><br /><div>The couple to my left is sitting in the man's car while the woman's car is parked beside them which can only mean they are having an ilicit affair and these secret lovers are sharing their forbidden love... where else, the Kohl's parking lot, which is probably where they first met while he was looking for a nice suit and she was picking out a tie for her husband. The Shame of it all!</div><br /><div>The man in front of me is vigorously cleaning the doors of his car with a Kleenex. Weird. This can only mean that he has just committed murder and is cleaning the evidence before strolling into Kohl's to buy a bedsheet to roll the body up in, which is more than likely in his trunk. </div><br /><div>Meanwhile, I have my boob out in plain view with a suction cup attached to me looking like the prize cow at a county fair. So I ask you, who's the real sicko here? </div><br /><div>Anyway, here is the latest picture of my little prize cow... ;) </div><div>(admit it, for a split second you thought you were about to see a picture of my boob didn't you?) </div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405287267112179874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SwNwIYkp2KI/AAAAAAAAAjs/Q35oRMc4Zm8/s400/Rinks+1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405287263867820146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SwNwIMfI2HI/AAAAAAAAAjk/NfBBsOU-FkI/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-14480192227763405922009-11-06T15:28:00.000-08:002009-11-06T15:39:18.154-08:00I'm kind of a big deal...I am now writing for At Home Tennessee Magazine! I have my first article in the November issue called "Balancing Act" about a home rennovation done by Baylor Bone Interiors. Check it out!!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401138975723980642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 331px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SvSzSC6Lh2I/AAAAAAAAAjc/2BX2BRGAMj4/s400/Oct-Cover.gif" border="0" />Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-73450701674403210312009-11-04T17:06:00.000-08:002009-11-04T17:24:27.269-08:00I'm goin' all Vegan on your ass...Ok seriously. Those who know me know that I have a huge passion for animals- all animals. Once, in college, I even tried to save the mice that were LIVING IN MY MATTRESS by trapping them and setting them free into the wild of my backyard. (I agree, it was a little extreme, even for me) Nevertheless, I have come upon new and disturbing knowledge about our food supply (the meat industry) and the horrible path it has veered off of in recent years. This information came from Jonathan Safran Foer's new book "Eating Animals" researching Factory Farming in America in which 99% of our animals (beef, chicken, and pork) are harvested. It's un-natural and making us, and the earth, very sick. You can learn more information at <a href="http://www.eatinganimals.com/">http://www.eatinganimals.com/</a> or <a href="http://www.farmforward.com/">http://www.farmforward.com/</a>. It doesn't mean that everyone should become a Vegan (although after reading you will be tempted) but rather encourages the masses to demand a more humane way of treating the animals that we eat, that ultimately sacrifice their lives for our food, and respect them the way they should be respected. One way to do this is to buy from your local farmer's markets, or go to <a href="http://www.localharvest.org/">http://www.localharvest.org/</a> to find out where fresh meat and dairy are in your local area- grown by local farmers who are doing it the right way. I just feel so passionate about this because the meat industry continues to get away with this because it is not in the public eye, and if we do not do something about it, the abuse will continue and ultimately come back to haunt us (as it has already started to do in our health). So pass this info along to everyone you know, and let's all start making a difference one by one.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-65994541836424116772009-11-03T18:55:00.001-08:002009-11-03T19:06:52.841-08:00Three things...1.) Really, Lady Ga-Ga, really? There are no words. <br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400077669388543010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SvDuB4tsZCI/AAAAAAAAAjE/IDttM6E_IhM/s400/lady-gaga-435.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><div></div><br /><br /><div>2.) I am positive that my arm is bigger than Kelly Ripa's gimp leg. Seriously, is she 12?</div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400077677305027410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SvDuCWNIW1I/AAAAAAAAAjU/jEM6d19LMms/s400/kelly-ripa-435.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p> </p><p>3.) This is going to be me if I don't get off my lazy ass.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400077672148199026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 125px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SvDuCC_pZnI/AAAAAAAAAjM/q43j2d_DgvI/s400/fat_ass.gif" border="0" /></p>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-36204560995736361222009-10-28T12:41:00.000-07:002009-10-28T19:02:16.056-07:00Gaskin vs. The Mouse'Twas the night before Halloween and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... except for this pesky little Houdini mouse that has been in our kitchen for the last month. I am not exaggerating when I say that we have been through at least 6 traps trying to kill this little guy to no avail. And by the amount of "treats" that have been left out for him in the last month, he probably thinks that he is staying at the Marriott and will start leaving room service orders every night. For the longest we didn't see him, just his "evidence" in the form of turds all over our cabinets (makes chills go up your spine doesn't it?) but then he started getting brave and yesterday he did the unthinkable. He came out in the daylight. Let me explain my nightmare: Yesterday morning I am home with Rinks (who is still the cutest baby that has ever lived) and I am going about my normal business. Well then it came time for me to relieve myself of liquid waste (a.k.a.- I had to pee) so I go into the downstairs bathroom. While I am in there minding my own business, this little fart knocker runs under the door INTO THE BATHROOM where I am... ahem... sitting, unable to move! I start screaming profanities and obviously he was not expecting me either so he starts running in circles until he finds a hole under the cabinet. I run out, pants down, and do the only thing I know to do... trap him with rolled up towels under the door and wait for Ashley to get home. So Ashley put a trap in there last night and low and behold, after 8 tries, he finally bit the dust. Rest in peace you little turd cannon.<br /><br />Update: He has risen from the dead and is back for VENGENCE! Ok, it's probably his cousin but nevertheless, it's back! Round 1: Gaskin. Round 2: To be Continued...Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-3584441298610354192009-10-18T21:03:00.000-07:002009-10-18T21:13:25.048-07:00Rinks' first photo shoot...My college roommate and photographer Beth of BMoFoto came by this week and took some pics of Rinks, and he was such a pro. He was actually posing for the camera at times, and that is when I realized, he is as vain as his mama. He loves that camera. :)<br /><div><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394158954700600162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/Stvm_WTr82I/AAAAAAAAAi8/lbRc_jzfW-o/s400/557_7.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394158158825026706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/StvmRBcKdJI/AAAAAAAAAic/M76R3JXIYdM/s400/594_6.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394158163016249170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/StvmRRDbb1I/AAAAAAAAAik/tvWVzY50LiM/s400/620_8.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394158168320936306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/StvmRk0KiXI/AAAAAAAAAis/cnmgkyi1jAI/s400/862_1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394158173070016450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/StvmR2gbv8I/AAAAAAAAAi0/UsoUExZiDUQ/s400/207_5.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-15417037206769413252009-10-05T15:46:00.000-07:002009-10-05T16:02:03.609-07:00Oh Yes He Did!Well, it's time I give credit where credit is due. And after months and months of being in the spotlight, and mostly in the dog house, my husband pulled through and made up for lost time. The other morning I went downstairs to get breakfast and what do I see taped to my refridgerator door? A gift certificate for a FULL SPA day!! So, what does this tell us ladies? A little nagging and a lot of degrading really goes a long way!<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389253984231673314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/Ssp58fZ8zeI/AAAAAAAAAiM/N8-mda-IfU4/s400/100_1336.jpg" border="0" /> "You did WHAT?!?!"Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-80635006204725930522009-09-14T14:24:00.001-07:002009-09-24T13:53:15.759-07:00My Cups Runneth OverI would like to take this moment and say a prayer of thanks and appreciation to God and my body for producing this Liquid Workout that we all know as Breast Milk. Because of this miracle fat zapper I have lost 2o pounds in 8 days! What!?! Ok, so maybe some of it was attributed to the deliverance of Rinks and all of his glory but still, it ain't bad. So I have decided that I am never going to stop breastfeeding, and when Rinks grows out of it I will just start feeding random hungry babies like Salma Hayek, only with a more selfish intention of never having to step on a treadmill again. Meanwhile, as Rinks has been sucking every last calorie out of me, it has all been for good reason because he is finally up to a whopping 7 pounds. So I am anticipating looking like Kate Moss (minus the Cocaine addiction) by Thanksgiving. Whoo hoo! And to think that people said Motherhood would make me less vain... I think not. Here is the latest pic of the little gangsta.<br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385139716916411234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/SrvcCnSme2I/AAAAAAAAAiE/LW3O2awpeNc/s400/100_1324.jpg" border="0" /></div>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-51611102786618920802009-09-14T13:56:00.001-07:002009-09-14T14:23:42.251-07:00He's Heeerrre!!Last Saturday on September 5th at 3:43pm I became the mom to the cutest little boy that ever graced this planet and thus overnight went from being the World's Crankiest Pregnant Woman to the World's Most Obnoxious Mother. So here is the cause for all those hormones, stretch marks, near divorce to my husband, Boobie road maps, and of course, the cellulite; and he was worth every single minute. So now that the Gestation Chronicles has come to an end, hold on to your hat for the start of what will now be Planet Postpartum. <div><div></div><div>Rinks William - World's Cutest Boy</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381435493940911698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/Sq6zEdYG3lI/AAAAAAAAAhw/CBvTQrC3T34/s400/8822_156836778988_562328988_3690777_1253346_n.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381435498027564802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZS-rt0YjgE/Sq6zEsmcPwI/AAAAAAAAAh4/S-mlTAWBmjw/s400/8822_156836673988_562328988_3690760_4259461_n.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-71654224747236176512009-08-27T21:06:00.000-07:002009-08-27T21:51:19.265-07:00Oh. No. He. Didn't.- Part 2.Last Sunday night was one of my good friend's birthday so we were off to celebrate over a little Mexican- yeah for Cheese Dip! These days my wardrobe has dwindled down to about 3 outfits that I rotate on a weekly basis, and although I am not going to make it on the Worst Dressed List, I know that Heidi Klum is not calling me any time soon to guest host on Project Runway. And I am at peace with that. However, someone else in my house does not feel the same way (I'll give you a hint- it's not Buddy). So on Sunday night when I walk out in one of my 3 outfits, Tim Gunn (a.k.a. Ashley) cocks a brow at me as he irons his shirt and says, "Is that what you are going to wear?" <em>Hold up. Isn't that my line?</em> I look down at my perfectly suitable ensemble and say, "Yeah, is that a problem?" He pauses for a minute and looks down at his shirt. I know this look, it is becoming all too familiar now. And then he says this: "I think you need a Style Intervention." <em>OH. NO. HE. DIDN'T.</em> I walk toward him slowly in my controlled rage and calmly ask, "I am not sure if you have noticed that I have a 7 pound fetus attached to the front of my body, THAT YOU PUT THERE, and I am a little limited on my attire these days."<br />And so help me Saint Agnes if this boy isn't just begging to be kicked in the groin when he follows by saying, "Well, yeah, but I am talking about even before you got pregnant."<br />I am not sure what happened after that as my vision blurred, I started seeing red, and then blacked out for 12 minutes only to wake up to Ashley holding his groin and speaking 3 octaves higher than normal. But all in all, I think that he would agree that his "intervention" was a success.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151187753459737314.post-88030360067970704622009-08-19T11:17:00.000-07:002009-08-19T11:51:22.488-07:00Burn, Baby, BurnIf it's true what they say that heartburn is an indicator of your baby having hair, then I must be birthing Curious George, because at this point I am popping Tums like Amy Winehouse at a methadone clinic. It all started one night after a binge at a local Pizza Hut (see previous post for the full effect) when the depths of Hell took over my respiratory system as I stood shooting milk straight from the carton in front of the fridge at 2 in the morning. Thinking that my punishment for eating the sweet, cheesy deliciousness that is the Cheesestick is over, I opt for a lesser offense on my next meal- a Turkey Sandwich. The fire rages on and I am defeated once again- by a friggin' Turkey Sandwich! But heartburn, you have picked on the wrong person this time (cue Braveheart theme song), because I am a fighter. And I will not be defeated by your raging hellfire that is fated to separate me from my beloved Italian cuisine or the delicate chocolaty dish known as the "Thunder from Downunder." So bring it, Heartburn, and prepare to be faced with one fat appetite equipped with a 350 count bottle of Tums with a backup of a pint of milk. And then we'll see who goes down in flames.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02571431318114201204noreply@blogger.com0