And She Lived To Tell About It........

I did it.

I plunged.

I jumped (slowly walked) into frigid waters.

All in the name of charity.

Outside Temperature: 13 degrees

Water Temperature: 39 degrees

How does that even happen?

Conclusion...................

It wasn't THAT bad.

For me anyway.

The poor scuba man suited up in the water behind me had somewhat of a different experience. He didn't realize there would be a full moon at noon on that balmy Saturday. If anyone knows the name of the poor rescue diver positioned directly behind my bare ass as I exited the lake this past Saturday, please inform me as I would like to send him a formal apology as well as a gift certificate for a professional eye exam. I'm sure this be-hind did some serious permanent ocular damage. How was I to know that my running pants would slide down my shivering hips in freezing temperatures while my hands/fingers simultaneously went numb resulting in my inability to correct the situation in a timely manner? I am clearly not a trained plunger here! Proven by my lack of appropriate attire.

Advice to any of you plunging soon.................

Wear pants that fit.
OR pants that have a drawstring and TIGHTEN those babies up good!

Luckily, Officer Bob (who stood in the "TOO CHICKEN TO PLUNGE" area a.k.a. WUSSVILLE) was unable to get a clear video of the unfortunate event.

All in all, you were right, Goldie.
It was fun.
Yada. Yada. Blah. Blah.

Congrats to all those who were "freezin for a reason" and good luck to all those yet to plunge!

I Am Mexican

I wear pants in the summer.
My childhood bedroom did not have access to the advanced technology of air conditioning.
I can eat a jar of jalapenos without breaking a sweat (this one may not be 100% true)

Due to my ethnicity, I feel have some innate response to temperatures below 50 degrees.

To rephrase: I HATE THE COLD!

So why, do you ask, am I participating in one of the most ridiculous events of all time?

Because it's for an amazing cause.

(and I don't handle peer pressure well)

True - immersing my body into ice-cold water may come with some serious bragging rights.

BUT I am pessimistic.
And inquisitive.
Both characteristics Officer Bob could have me do without.

So I used my inner reporter to investigate this annual display of stupidity.

Here's what I have found:

The Finns, Norwegians, and Russians like to finish off a stint in the sauna with a plunge in any icy lake, bragging of the benefits the cold water has on the immune system, the complexion --even the libido.

I am not Finnish.

I am not Norwegian.

I am not Russian.

I am MEXICAN.

Physiologically, your body responds to a cold plunge in three ways:
First, the small blood vessels constrict on the surface of your body as a defense mechanism, so you don’t lose heat. That means that a whole lot more blood is being squeezed into the same amount of blood vessels, which “serves to increase the effect on blood pressure."

Next, blood rushes from extremities to the core, chilling the limbs and leading to weakness and impaired motor coordination.

Finally, true hypothermia sets in. That's when core body temperature plunges below normal. If it falls far enough, heartbeat may be disrupted and breathing may fail, causing death.

Great.....what this says is "that I will plunge into freezing temperatures and my body will go into shock causing my blood pressure to rise. I will scream for help. Officer Bob will laugh. Hysterically. He will laugh for approximately 3 minutes too long without coming to my rescue causing my limbs to not work appropriately. He will finally feel bad enough to throw me a flotation device. However......because he spent extra time laughing at my discomfort, I will not be able to use my arms to hang on to said flotation device. I will remain limp in the cold water until hypothermia sets in, and Officer Bob is forced to show that he actually cares about me by diving in and saving me from DEATH."

Cool, Goldie!
Great Idea!

Now this is where I beg for donations so my dear friends and family can contribute to my stupidity. And of course for the amazing cause. All funds raised benefit the Special Olympics of Illinois. Having been a volunteer at local Special Olympics events, this is an organization near and dear to my heart. If my diving into frigid waters makes it possible for this organization to bring smiles to millions of faces, you better believe I'm in! I'm all in!

Please head on over to my team's donation page and throw in a few bucks.

That's right. I said team. As in "other people that actually think it's fun doing this."

If the Russians are right, my skin will be smooth as a baby's bottom, and Officer Bob will be one happy man.

I guess it does have its perks!

America's Finest News Source

National news stations make me want to vomit.

For realz.

I can no longer muster up the energy to watch political debates over incredibly nonsense topics.

Watching such debates makes me fear for the future of this country.

At this point, I am seriously contemplating voting for Roseanne Barr for president if she should choose to run. Her methods can be no less irritating and/or frightening than those individuals currently posting ridiculous campaign messages across my television screen.

And don't get me started on the Whitney Houston crisis that has apparently taken over the nation.

Don't get me wrong, "I will always love" that lady (get it?) She blessed many with her amazing vocals, but if I have to hear "ooooo....I wanna dance with somebody" one more time, I am going to rip out my ear drums and feed them to the birds that keep shitting on my car in the parking lot at work.

I'm starting to dream about her funeral.

Seriously.

It happened.

So............in an effort to break away from men in suits and ties debating over the need for an electric fence between two countries and the constant replay of Whitney hits, I ventured over to my backup source of America's finest news for some entertainment.

Thank you, hard-working, detail-focused, writers of WTF News. For you are able to investigate the TRUE news of today's society!

You can't find headlines like this just anywhere:

Jedi' jailed for attacking police with light sabers

Man orders prostitute, daughter arrives

North Koreans. Accordions. '80s song. 'Nuff said

Not only am I able to catch up on all the not-so-popular topics of the times, but I am also able to search the want ads - and boy did I come across a gold mine!





In just over a year, I will be making a vow confirming my role as a Mexican housewife and therefore opening an opportunity for a totally glamorous career as a spandex-wearing, throat punching, bad to the bone Mexican wrestler.

Chokeslam.

Holla!

WTF News - you never cease to amaze me.

Gracias.

11 Days?

------------------------------------------->

Really?

That little counter over there is down to 11 days?

Let's be honest..........

This ass ain't fittin' in no skinny jeans in 11 days.

That's right, Mama Dirt.

I said ass.

Because once a butt becomes so large in size,
it becomes an ass.

I won't tell you what the next step is
as I'm afraid the language is too vulgar.

On a good note~

My new job entails LOTS of exercise,
a better atmosphere for healthy eating,
and true motivation for kicking it in high gear.

I exercise approximately 3 1/2 hours a day.
I eat approximately 7 hours a day.

I think a balance issue is the source of my ass.

So, peeps, here is my plea for an extension on my skinny jean goal.

Just one more month?!

Gracias.

Blame Small Town Internet

For The Delay.............

In my daughter's eyes,

I am a hero,

I am strong and wise,

And I know no fear,

But the truth is plain to see,

She was sent to rescue me,

I see who I want to be,

In my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes,

Everyone is equal,

Darkness turns to light,

And the world is at peace,

This miracle God gave to me,

Gives me strength when I am weak,

I find reason to believe,

In my daughter's eyes

And when she wraps her hand around my finger,

How it puts a smile in my heart,

Everything becomes a little clearer,

I realize what life is all about,

It's hanging on when your heart is had enough,

It's giving more when you feel like giving up,

I've seen the light,

It's in my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes,

I can see the future,

A reflection of who I am and what will be,

And though she'll grow and someday leave,

Maybe raise a family,

When I'm gone I hope you see,

How happy she made me,

For I'll be there,

In my daughter's eyes

This year has brought you many blessings, CareBear!

I hope those blessings continue to grow.

You have evolved into a great mother,

and a great role model.

I can't wait for the day that I can offically

call you my sister.

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, CAREBEAR!!!

The Legend of Huracan

A young man, in light of his family's poor finances, drops out of college to become a successful lounge singer at a local club.

A fact he keeps secret from his father, a washed-up wrestler under the name of Tonino Jackson.

Tonino has had some recent popularity in the ring, only due to his son bribing other wrestlers to lose. 

The young son is also secretly moonlighting as the masked luchador

Huracán Ramírez

to further help with the household expenses.

He is assisted by his somewhat dim-witted friend, Pichí, who doubles as his trainer and his stand-in for any situation in which the young man and Huracán might have to be seen at the same time.

Tonino has a growing resentment against Huracán's popularity and is further aggravated when he refuses to face him in the ring.

After a night of partying, Huracan's father discovers his secret job as a lounge singer. Unimpressed with his new career path and disappointed he ended his schooling, he demands Huracan to leave his household. Tonina is later dissuaded by his younger daughter, who explains that Huracan has been helping with finances for some time and without his spare income, the family would have been unable to survive.

In a match against the wrestler Bello Califa, a drunken Pichí is mistaken for Huracán Ramírez. Pichí manages to defeat the flamboyant Bello Califa and after much confusion, both Huracan's sisters discover the true identity of Huracán.

In the next day's match, Huracan wrestles against El Médico Asesino. Huracan's father develops a great respect for Huracán Ramírez and decides to form an alliance with him. Meanwhile, Gloria, a fellow lounge singer and Huracan's flame, feels dejected when her love for him goes on unrequited. 

A broken-hearted Gloria seeks revenge against her former lover, and after discovering his secret identity of Huracán Ramírez, plots to kill him by enlisting the aid of rival luchadors.

The plan is to kidnap Huracan's father, who will thereby be unable to attend the night's tag-team match, and be replaced with Bulldog. During the course of the match, Bulldog will turn against Huracán, and the rival luchadors will beat him to death. Their plan is foiled however, as Pichí quickly alerts Huracan just in time to free his father, but his leg is badly injured in the process. 

In an illegal move, one of the luchadors unmasks the man, revealing his true identity to his father. At this, both father and son are put in a blind rage, in which they both are able to defeat their attackers at the thunderous applause of fans.

Huracan realizes his deep love for Gloria. Gloria gives birth to a beautiful daughter who they can only hope will one day follow in her father's footsteps as the great luchador, Huracan Ramirez.

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, HURACAN!

Your legend lives on!

TWENTY SEVEN...

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MY FIANCE

1. I love how you call me "Bob" in public, and I respond.
2. I love that when we argue, it always ends with laughter.
3. I love how you can sing the lyrics to every South Park song ever written - ok......that I don't love. BUT I do find it amusing.
4. I love how you aren't perfect. It makes me feel better about myself. :)
5. I love the way you're honest to a fault.
6. I love that you're white. Both in race and color.
7. I love that you get along with my brothers. Even though they're Mexican.
8. I love how you always remember everything I've ever told you.
9. I love how you make fun of me in a way that makes me think you're laughing with me and not at me.
10. I love how you encourage me to find my own happiness.
11. I love your quick wit. Even though it pisses me off that I'm not as clever as you.
12. I love that you don't drink alcohol, but allow me to consume enough for the both of us.
13. I love that you love your mom more than any other woman in the world.
14. I love that you think its socially acceptable to walk in the yard in your boxers and rain boots. 
15. I love your laugh. Your contagious, lovable laugh.
16. I love that you can independently cook, clean, and do your own laundry.
17. I love that you can hold a headstand longer than me.
18. I love that you understand my need for Girls' Night Outs.
19. I love that you accept my obsession with morally corrupt reality TV shows. GTL Baby!
20. I love that you spend YOUR hard earned money on OUR needs.
21. I love that you own more pairs of sweatpants than jeans.
22. I love that you're equally as immature as I am. (Maybe not equally....but pretty damn close!)
23. I love that you call me every day on your way home from work just to talk.
24. I love that you're not racist. What a relief!
25. I love that you give in when I whine. (And I'm a professional pouter)
26. I love that you think you can't dance.
27. I love knowing that I get to spend the rest of my life loving you.

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, OFFICER BOB!

Your smile brightens my day, the sound of your voice brings me peace, and I am truly thankful you found room in that big heart of yours for a loud, obnoxious, Mexican woman.

Answer: Because I Got A New Bleepin' Job

Question: Why the bleep haven't you blogged in two bleepin' weeks?!

Sorry peeps. Get off my back!

I'm still in the transition phase. Trying to figure out the best "blogging time" with these new crazy hours.

P.S. I have to eat lunch at 3:30. My stomach becomes a cannibal and starts eating itself around 2:00. I think I just found my new diet.

In other news......Officer Bob went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond BY HIMSELF to buy new bedding for the master bedroom. Approximate time of trip? 3 hours. Approximate complaints since said trip? 3 hundred.

All in all.....Officer Bob has great taste in bedding!

His torture brought a smile to my face.

I think he's reconsidering this whole "til death do us part" thing.

True Life: I'm a Titty Baby

On this episode of True Life you'll meet a small town man struggling to fit in a society that denies to accept his role as the moderately defected Titty Baby.

A Father:

A Loving Husband:

A Son to Occasionally Proud Parents:

A Brother and Sophisticated Uncle:

A Genuine, Caring Family Man:
















BUT a man with secrets........
Deep, dark secrets.............
A Titty Baby revealed.
THIS is his story:

A Gleetard:


A Man Who Develops Secretly CLOSE Relationships With Friends:

 
Unspeakable and Shameful Relationships:

A Bubbles In Training:

A Poor Representative of American Society in Foreign Countries:

A Low Budget Weekend Stripper - emphasis on the low budget:

Unfortunate Member of a "New Kids on the Block" Tribute Band titled

"Old Farts in the Alley":

The Next Monica Lewinski in Male Form:

==============================================================

Just your average Titty Baby trying to make it in a senseless world:

Airing January 14th

True Life: I'm a Titty Baby

 =================================================================

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, ESE!



Is This Real Life?!

I just finished a very short and very sad attempt at a "run".

Outside.

Wearing a tshirt and running pants.

In JANUARY!!!!

Today's Weather Report?


Is this real life?



Sidenote: I have officially lost ALL cardiovascular endurance that I used to once finish a marathon. Two miles almost ended my life today. This is not a joke. This blog audience has failed at serving as my accountability partners. Seriously people! Every time you see me on the street, please make it a point to take a stick and shove my sorry, slowly-progressing-in-size be-hind in gear. Because I somehow have to fit in a bridesmaid dress AND swimsuit for a Florida destination wedding by July. My eyes are watering just thinking about it.

Those of you who follow the work of Gabriel Iglesias understand that people of "my kind" come in six different sizes of fat. They are as follows:

1. Big
2. Healthy
3. Husky
4. Fluffy
5. DAMN!
6. And the infamous "AHH HELL NO!"

Do they make adult women's swimsuits in size fluffy?

If not, anyone got a tarp I can borrow?

La Navidad To Remember!

I promise I was a good girl this year.

If you forget about that small mishap involving tequila and a dance floor

And those moments that I kinda sorta referred to my boyfriend as a "cracka"

Oh....and let's overlook that time I walked out of Walmart with an UNscanned case of water under my cart and it was raining REALLY hard and I totally didn't go back in to pay for it. Sorry Mama Dirt.

Good thing Santa's age is finally catching up to him and
his memory is starting to slip

Because Santa Came to Town.........

And what I am assuming was supposed to be coal,

Turned into a DIAMOND!



That's right folks!

OFFICER BOB POPPED THE QUESTION!

And you know I'm a sucker for white boys and bling!

 So here's the details.....

I am a collector.

Not of lint.

But of hand-painted glasses. Wine glasses. Martini glasses. Margarita glasses. Pilsners. Any glass that is capable of holding alcohol and beautifully hand-painted, count me in!




Officer Bob was mandated to spend his Christmas weekend with drug dealers and prostitutes so we took full advantage of his time home in the evening to have our own little gift exchange.

One by one, Officer Bob opened his oh-so-exciting presents consisting of t-shirts, polos, and hoodies. I'm a practical shopper.

Finally, it was MY turn.

Officer Bob handed me a gift of which I was sure of the contents. All of my hand-painted glasses are packaged the same. I had seen plenty of these cylinders and knew exactly what was inside. Or so I thought.

Officer Bob did not appear nervous. He did not appear anxious. There were NO signs that anything was out of the ordinary. Therefore, I went ahead and opened my present in no rush with no anticipation.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear?

But a BEAUTIFULLY hand-painted martini glass decorated with diamond rings...........


And an even more BEAUTIFUL diamond sparkling right in the center.

A real diamond ring.

Diamond.

Ring.



Get it?

I look to my right and see Officer Bob down on one knee in front of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve mouthing something along the lines of "Will You Marry Me?"

YES! YES! YES!

And one more for good measure.

YES!

I would hardly consider Officer Bob a romantic, but I will never forget the Christmas that Santa sent me a fiance. The man of my dreams. The love of my life.

And my future husband.

Wedding Planning Has Officially Started!

____________________________________________________________________

P.S. I must sincerely apologize to Grand Puba. In the midst of the engagement excitement, I unfortunately was unable to post your very own Birthday Blog. For fear of hurt feelings, I would like to make up for this by providing this blog audience with a "snapshot" of you of which I would like to title:

GRAND PUBA THROUGH THE YEARS

 The Adorable Years

The Swing Choir Years

The "Boys with their Toys" Years

The "Where's Bubbles?" Years

 The Compatible Years

    And The Reno Years

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, GRAND PUBA!

Your son got you the best gift of all!

A Mexican!!