Less Money, Fewer Problems?

Right about now I'm thinking that a two year old can of 99% fat free Ravioli from Chef Boyardee was not the best lunch option. Whats in that stuff anyway? How do you make it 99% leaner? Pack in more sawdust, I suspect. Sigh.... but I woke up late and am trying to save money, and calories, by not eating out. I hate being broke, or at least feeling like I can't spend money. Ever since the breakup, and subsequent separation of finances, I've felt like I can't peel off the bakshish. (Well, except for the major retail therapy I engaged in right after I learned my ex was porking his 19 yr. old coworker, but that was definitely justified.)

I need a new job. I enjoy what I do but I don't make enough money doing this, and it's starting to affect how I spend my time when I'm not working. On the weekends I want to strike out for SA, go to Borders and sip on overpriced coffee, just like every other American with the luxury of leisure time. I dont have any mouths to feed, or habits to appease, so there is really no need to act like a viejita trying to make her social security check stretch. Yet that's exactly what Im doing each month that I continue to work for the state. I'm so willful and assured in most all areas of my life, but when it comes to my career and men, I just kinda slap on blinders and do whats comfortable. I need to start taking some risks and acting on ideas that are not safe. I'm not talking selling Herbalife and taking men home from Tejano bars, but just getting my ass out there and mixing it up.

The main reason I took the state position was because I needed a freakin' job, but now that I have that job it only makes sense to try my hand in the private sector so that I can make sum o' dat MUNEY! J Some people need to work for the state, either for the benefits, or the job security, or just the fact that once you pass the 90 day trial period its practically impossible to get fired, but I dont have those kinds of concerns right now. And I'm tired of being a wuss and settling for what I've got, because its barely paying the bills, and mama needs a new pair of shoes!

And in boy news: I am stupidly developing a giddy crush for a STUDENT! I know, but I'm going on 7 chaste months now! I'm just lookin for some touch! Ha ha! No, of course not, but it is good to just chill and talk w/a guy. I've never quite understood why I enjoy the company of younger men. I've always attributed it to my own sophomoric sense of humor, but lately I've begun to wonder if its not also that I'm just more comfortable in general b/c the threat of developing a real relationship isnt looming in the background. Talking with single adult men, 30 and older, always puts this weird pressure on me, and I never feel that way with younger men. Of course, it wont be much longer now until 30 year old men will BE the younger men, so I need to get over this shit before I find myself in Elizabeth Taylor territory. That would just be creepy.

But yes, I did find myself nervously talking to a student on the phone and relaying my weekend plans. I've had my fair share of student crushes where I get sent flowers of appreciation (for doing my job), or lunch invitations ("Thanks for your help; let me take you out to lunch.", but those are usually really easy to keep in check b/c I've always been attached. In the last 3 months my interest has shifted from one of amusement to possibility, and that's NOT COOL! I'm not rockin' the 20 year olds, no way! I knew long ago that my window of opportunity for messing around with strapping young bucks was passed over for a higher ideal (allright, it was actually just me being chicken-shit, but still!), so I've come to terms with the fact that rubbing young, supple, taut flesh was just not in the cards as I played them. Oh but it gives me much satisfaction when I make him laugh! No harm in that, right? So I said no to his invite on Friday, and I'm square. And I feel kinda empty and foolish because.......?

Music & Boys (What else is there, really?)

I’m starting to get bummed about the music selection on Myspace. I can hardly find any of the songs I’d like to share. Wish by NIN. Nope. Generator (NON acoustic version) by Foo Fighters. Nope. Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell by The Flaming Lips. That’s a negatory. Stigmata by Ministry. It’s difficult to get my jam on around there. Oh well, guess I’ll just throw on another booty tune.


The other day I started thinking that since I can never think of hotties I would like to get with, I need to start a running tally in my head. It’s true! Now you would think that the subject doesn’t come up often enough, but I can clearly think of at least 4 times when I’ve been given the opportunity to name celebrities I’d want to date, and that doesn’t even count the times I cannot remember, which is probably much more frequent as these are the types of topics some women defer to when imbibing and cutting loose. Anyway, I was asked this question again and once again my mind just went blank. I’m a heterosexual woman. I like sex. I have a decent imagination. So why can I not think of anyone when the question is lobbed my way? I figured out two separate lists, the real people I’d like to romance, and the characters I’d like to romance. There is SUCH a difference. For instance, when I watched Cold Mountain, I SOOOOO wanted to be pined for by Jude Law’s character, but I would totally pass on the chance to meet that womanizing bastard in person. See the difference?

I would think it would be fairly easy for dudes b/c it’s typically all about their physical attributes. T&a, legs, lips, color/length of hair, but for chicks (or rather, for this chick), it’s a little more difficult than that. Guys could have sex w/a totally annoying woman and still enjoy the experience, but there is no way in hell I could do that. If some guy bugs me, there is no way he’s touching me, I don’t care how cute he is. Ya hear that, creepy green-eyed, broad chested dude who looks at me with the longing of a longshoreman coming off of a 2 year stint aboard a submarine?!

Allright, so for your viewing pleasure, the top 5 men I think it would be cool to meet:
Jason Bateman
Jake Gyllenhaal
Jayson Mewes (PLEASE don’t ask)
Cillian Murphy
Dave Grohl

And the 4 guys (who don’t really exist) that would be cool to have fall in LORVE with moi (‘cause I’m just a dork like that)
Joaquin Phoenix’s character in Signs (maybe)
Zach Braff’s character in Garden State
Ewan McGregor's character in Moulin Rouge
Matt Damon's character in Good Will Hunting

Smitten, silly, but satisfyingly self indulgent ...

Well, I’m off to play MASH with my newly solidified hotties! Think I’m kidding? www.playmash.com

Poser or Multifaceted?

As I check out myspace I catch these glimpses of creative, funny, twisted, and just all around cool people. I wonder if these people could ever really be my friend though, mostly because while my interests are so varied, I dont really classify myself in a certain group of people. I feel a bit like tofu, absorbing the flavors around it, but never pulling off the actual mouth feel of the real deal. In my younger days those people were called posers, and beat up in general. The prospect of a virtual beatdown seems fairly innocuous, so I can safely list my turns in the varied world of stereotypes:

1. Goth/New Wave stage- lasted about 2 years in high school. I still love the Cure, and docs
2. Theatre/drama stage- (no pun intended)
3. Punk stage- well, I had to bathe but attitude, eyeliner, and self mutilation were in check
4. Hippie stage- tie dyes rule! I never did have the guts to dread my locks though
5. Feminist stage- didnt shave my legs for months! And that, my friends, takes guts to do in Texas
6. Chicano stage- ultimately I can't shake that one, not that I'd want to, but I wore it on my sleeve for a while
7. Pseudo-country phase- proud to say that Ive never actually owned cowboy boots or a hat, but I did retain a lingering affection for the Eagles
8. Club Hottie- yes, I do still have some stripper heels in my closet from that turn. I was the "Look, Don't Touch Grrrrl". (The grrrrl part is a remnant from my feminist stage. Came in handy in clubs when guys try to grope for luna.)

And presently, I'm in my Officewear/grown-up stage, where my main focus is paying my mortgage and finding at least one weekend a month where I can party hard(y). Of course the term "party" has definitely shifted meaning as it no longer refers to keggers or "whatever shot is on special" in a club, rather drinking wine or bottled beer with 3-4 select friends. Oh, and I wear a lot of skirts and refer to my weekend wardrobe as "play clothes" Sigh... I think I deserve that virtual beatdown right about now.

Not Your Typical Aggie, But They Done Brainwashed Me Good

My folks are well meaning, and my Dad always claimed that his intention was never to treat my brother and myself the same. He would always say that we were the not the same person, so opportunities afforded my brother were not always to be expected by me. This is a Hispanic mans way of insuring that his son can go out and get tail, but when it comes to mija, anything short of fitting her with a chastity belt is fair game.

But they had this strange idea that anything my older brother was into would also prove to be a good experience for me. Not so. As much as I love my brother, we do not share the same taste in...anything. But he was a camp counselor in Vermont, and there I went. Actually, I liked that one; he went just one summer but I spent 3 summers in VT. Then there was his trip to Mexico when he was 14-15 yrs old. Of course, there was no way I would have gone at that age, but when I graduated from college the idea that I would spend the summer with some of our family from Monterrey was really pushed on me. This one I vehemently refused for the following reasons:
1. When I went to Monterrey w/my family at the age of 12, a man wanted to give my dad a dowry in exchange for a promise to have me marry one of his sons.
2. Women who drink beer are seen in a negative light
3. I did not want to spend 3 months indoors, ironing, and making tortillas

And since Josh went to A&M and enjoyed himself, well, thats where I was headed too! Never mind that I had carried a UT backpack from the time I was a sophomore in high school, or that Im a liberal, or my affinity for ankhs. Nope, I was bound for Redneckville, and my only other recourse was to fund my own education. Did I forget to mention that my father did not allow me or my brother to hold a job during our years in high school? Claimed that we had our whole lives to work, so that we should enjoy our childhood. The fact that this kept us repressed and completely in his control was just a convenient byproduct of his philanthropic ideology.

So off to A&M I went, under duress and pissed at the world at the unfairness of it all. "My parents are paying for all of my undergraduate degree, but I have to go to Texas A&M!! Woe is spoiled little me!" Of course, in the 40,000 students at A&M I was able to find my niche, and theres no way that I would trade the experience. Fate smiled on me the day I was put into Davis-Gary, got drawn into the bonfire crowd, and met those who would become friends by choice, not by proximity.

Yes, I met my fair share of rednecks. Yes, I was once asked if I was a lesbian because of my stance on gay bashing. (By the way, gay bashing is not cool) And yes, the Baptists did try to convert me with their succulent, free barbequed brisket, but I came out the other side better for it, and despite the odd racist, sexist, and otherwise ignorant comments, the experience has made me fiercely loyal to all things Aggie, including our sucky football team. GIG 'EM!

Bleakfest

Criminy Hooey, I'm now a myspacer. I don't know how it all came to this, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this shameful secret is right up there with peeing in my pants at the age of 23 (that was an alcohol related accident). I guess I've realized that since I have no interest in running for any elected position (ever), that I don't have much to lose, so I can give into my sick fascination with seeing my thoughts right up there with the thoughts of others on the world wide web. Here we go, yo.

Givin' Love to Myspace Homies!

So, Tiger-Juan is a distant memory, as is Omar, and the latest: Mario. I’m just getting this real sense that more I try to date a Hispanic, the worse shit gets. I mean, Omar was the first, and he was the best, except that he didn’t like to contact me and I can’t play games for shit. Then Tiger-Juan who had the quality listed above but he wasn’t very funny and a bit rough around the edges. Next came Mario, who was a fairly straight-up kinda guy but full of himself for no reason that I could discern. Not attractive, not particularly funny or well-read, has a son (baggage), and a bland personality coupled with a strong penchant for talking about himself. And his moustache smelled funny. BLECH! Michele suggested he may have engaged in cunnilingus shortly before kissing me. Quite honestly, admitting to kissing that troll causes me more embarrassment than the notion that I have licked some kitty-by-proxy. Why did you do it? Sighhh. How many freakin’ times can you dodge a guy?!!! I’ve found the max is about 7-8 times, then you have to tell him to get the hell away from you, or just kiss the jerk, and I unwisely chose the latter. Oh, and it gets better.

I’ve been poking around Myspace. WAIT, before the police (child welfare division) is called to action, I should say that it all started w/Bobby Bones, the morning show that I listen to on my way to work. I visit their site every day to get the recap (because the show is 4 hrs and I only listen to about 30 minutes of it each day) and they all have Myspace sites. Weeelllll, you can’t look at their pictures until you make a password and username for yourself. Done and done. Then the more you look at other people’s “space”, the more ideas you get for how cool your space should be. I haven’t actually acted on any of these thoughts, but there have been a few close calls. Oh, OK, I did fill out the little 5 questions at the beginning, but that’s only b/c it said I didn’t know my orientation and that I didn’t want kids. LIES! (I just had to make them true) So the other day I’m trolling, uh-I mean SEARCHING myspace and looking at pics and such when I notice that I’ve gotten a request to be somone’s friend; Mr. Juanderful has asked to be my friend. Yes, the one, the only, the interminable, Juan Deleon (hmmm, another Juan/lion reference...coincidence?) of my days at College Station, or more accurately, the last summer. Yes, when all of my friends were gone and I lived my final semester on campus, Mr. Deleon was a constant companion.

We first met on the benches. I remember that he was just getting out of a 5 year relationship w/his gf. He was facing what all graduating couples face: do we get married or split up? She was for option 1, and he was for option 2. Instead of being a gentleman and explaining his fears/concerns/feelings, he just started treating her like shit so that she’d leave. An all around good guy, no? And I told him such. Little did I know he’s one of those “I like me a challenge” kind of guys who was looking forward to getting his mind off his old girl and trying to tame a willful, stubborn, cocky lass such as myself. This was my first exposure to the dangerous mojo that is: a Hispanic on a mission to woo, and I will tell you my friends, this is some powerful, potent stuff.

He got his foot in the door with his willingness to listen and his understated ability to compliment me. Kids stuff, I say. Then one day I am on the benches, very upset b/c I’m realizing that the end of my final semester at A&M will not yield my diploma. I had to drop the Spanish class I was in, and there was just no way for me to take Spanish III and IV since I was already taking 6 per summer session. I am bummed, and have yet to tell my family. I’m sitting on the Moses benches, nursing a beer (an on-campus no no) and feeling sorry for myself in general. Juan comes over and asks what’s wrong. I don’t feel like talking, so I just tell him I’ve gotten some shitty news and I’d like to be alone w/my thoughts. He says OK and says that he’s going to the Quickie Mart across the street and wants to know if I want something. I thank him but decline. 15 minutes later he comes walking across the quad, arms full of candy, chips, a 40, gum, beef jerky, and a melting ice cream treat streaming down one arm. He says “I didn’t know what would cheer you up, so I got it all!” Uh-huh. This guy was gooooood.

We went out a couple of times. Once he got me drunk and I let him touch it. (I’m talking started drinking pitchers of beer at 10am and got back to my dorm to “watch a movie” at 9pm kind of drunk here), but we didn’t kiss much, that I remember, and I kept telling myself “You know this guy is an asshole, you’re just ‘new’, but when he’s done he’s going to treat you poorly too, b/c that’s how he treated his ex.” If only the heart gave a shit about what the head tells it! No, I didn’t totally fall for this guy, but we did keep in touch after that August. And about 8 months later I was invited to Jiffy’s wedding in Midlothian, which is about 30-40 minutes from Dallas/Ft. Worth, which is where Juan lived. Bottom line: I didn’t go to Jiffy’s wedding, but I did meet Juan’s family and all of his friends.

About a month after that, Juan comes to visit me in Seguin. We spent a nice day in San Antonio, taking a ride on the riverboat, walking around Rivercenter Mall, listening to the Zamfir and their rendition of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”, which was surprisingly quite moving. Then came the discussion: Juan wanted to know if I could view him as more than just a friend who was a boy, but a boyfriend. There was the distance factor, among a few other factors, and I did ask for time to think about it, but after half an hour or so I said yes! My first real boyfriend!!! At the tender age of 23! Our "relationship" lasted all of 45 minutes. On the ride home he says that he’s not sure that it was going to work after all. B-HUH!?!?! Subsequent e-mails would unearth his reservations due to my reaction to his “proposal”, or lack thereof, most notably the fact that I wouldn’t/didn’t kiss him while we were on the Riverwalk, thereby creating doubt in his mind as to my viability as a potential girlfriend. Yes, it did hurt. I was not yet a year out of college, back in my hometown, living next to my grandma and feeling more stifled than ever. All of my friends, all of the activities I most enjoyed were all in my past. Juan was one of the most constant friends I had linking me to that time, and losing him really did hurt.

In hindsight I realize he was just fucking with my head and trying to get into my pants. When he realized that asking me to "go steady" wasn't going to yield any hijinks between the sheets anytime soon, he did what anyone mired in a failing plan of action would do: he bluffed and hoped that would get the reaction he wanted. "What?! But I WANT to be your girlfriend! What if I threw in a blowjob and a titty fuck? Then could I still be your long distance girlfriend, PLEEEEASE?!" I guess it went off better in his mind. Since he had met my folks, and had cut his trip short by 2 days (to my embarrassment), I sent him my last e-mail the next weekend. I basically told him that he wasn't a good friend and that I was done.

So, do we forgive and forget? Do we sign up for more punishment? I’ve been thinking about and all of the chances I gave him: when he went AWOL for 3 months, the time I went to CS and told him I was having more than just friendly feelings for him and he basically lobbed a “and this is my problem because….?” kind of response, the time at The Chicken when we were drinking w/his friends and upon a rather witty and cutting remark made by yours truly, that had everyone laughing, he said to me: “If I wanted any shit I would have squeezed your head.” Laughing ceased. I left. I don't talk to people that way, and I expect that favor to be returned.

I was lucky. No major post-Juan regrets due to inappropriate touching (I'm actually satisfied with our one drunken interlude because I can sidestep culpability due to my BAC, and now he KNOWS what he missed out on), and I affirmed what I had known all along. He’s not a good guy. And I would do well to leave him in the past. Knowing all that, it’s still a toss-up as to whether or not I’ll have stories related to further correspondence with him.

How to Befriend Feral Cats, and Other Futile Efforts

So Omar is back, kinda. He sent me an e-mail, and he wanted me to call him b/c he never knows when I’m going to be asleep. I did, and we talked for a bit, but it’s becoming apparent that we need to meet in order to continue the friendship, b/c we don’t really know how to classify each other yet. OK, that’s just my assumption based on my personal feelings about the situation. I feel that I’m not sure how to talk to him, or what about, b/c I don’t know if we’re going in the amorous direction, or just a friendship direction. What’s the difference? It’s just different!

UGH, I dunno! *Major Generalization/Stereotyping Alert* Why is it that I have this hang-up with Hispanic men?! It’s like, a part of me thinks that I just can’t keep up w/this shit. I like white guys because if they like you, they call you. When they’re into you, you can tell. Hispanic men are just tricky, and they require finesse. It’s like the difference between getting a stray dog to let you pet it (dangle a piece of food, or just pretend to dangle a piece of food, and they’re yours), and getting a stray cat to let you pet it. You could try for hours, days, or even weeks, and somehow that cat would get you to give it the food, and you still wouldn’t be able to touch it. Not to belabor the metaphor, but I’m definitely a dog lover- not so much into cats.

On the bright side of all of this, I’m glad that we’re still talking, that we still get along, and that it’s going slow enough for me to lose weight. I’m back to exercising, marginally, and I am now really fitting into some stuff. If everything goes well I should be able to meet him in the next 5-6 weeks, which should go past easily enough.

In ex news, Shawn texted me a couple of weeks ago. I was at the coast w/my folks at the time, and I didn’t see it until the morning after, but apparently someone had made a threat against his life, and his response was to text me at 1am: “I just want u 2 know if something happens to me i still think about u daily” Of course, I ignored it at first, but on the 2 1/2 hr drive home I had a sudden flash of a reporter on the nightly news: “white, male apparent suicide victim found in his apartment, still clutching the phone he had used to send his final text message.” He had had problems w/depression in the past, and as much as I know that I don’t owe him ANYTHING, I sincerely don’t want that kind of crap on my conscience. So I texted him back and that’s when I found out about the death threats. The cops played the message for him, and he thinks it’s some guy that he fired about 6 months ago. So while he was probably in his baby girlfriend’s arms all night for reassurance, he felt the need to text me. Whatever. It doesn’t change a thing.

The Landslide Has Me Backsliding

WTF?! OK, so I’m having to deal with the sadness and disappointment of being single at 30, and this has led me to two major changes:
1. I’ve been crying a lot
2. I cannot sleep

Yesterday night, as I lay crying in my bed at 11:30pm, I decided to drink some wine (because I truly am a fucking idiot). I hopped on the computer to see what the whole chat thing was about. The only reason I ever got messenger was because I had been talking to Juan on it. Once upon a time he showed me how to sign up, and we used to use it to talk. OK, so I try a chat room, someone says “Hi”, and I freak out and leave. I then start reading blogs when I hear that someone has messaged me. It’s “Panther 4040”, and he says hi. Without thinking, I immediately respond that I’m new to messaging. We start “talking” when I suddenly realize that I’m talking to Juan under a different username. And what do I do? Carry on the ruse, baby!

It was actually pretty cool b/c I got to treat him like a stranger who I was soliciting advice from. Advice about this guy I had gone on dates with (which was him). Of course he was trying to trip me up by asking me questions I had already answered for him: “Are you into girls?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Are you just dating anyone?”, and then he ramped it up a notch and logged on as “Tigre00040”, which is the username he previously used with me. (I KNOW! How I didn’t immediately recognize that he was the first guy who messaged me is beyond me, especially since I’ve not only seen his panther tattoo located in his groin area, but I’ve freakin’ KISSED IT! [The tattoo, not Wee Willy Winky.] I’m blaming it on the wine, but secretly I think it might be my tiny pea brain.) Now I’m talking to TWO Juans, where before I had not talked to one Juan for the past couple of weeks. The conversation was stiff, and didn’t really go anywhere. Of course, I immediately abandoned talking to “Panther” when Juan started- just shut off, so he knew that he was more important. Then Juan says “Bye” and Mr. Panther comes back. Panther and I then start chatting about a guy I had dated. That’s right. I’m talking to Panther about Juan, when in reality, Panther IS JUAN. (I don’t know how I get myself into such absurd situations!)

Like I said, it was good in the sense that we got to clear the air about what happened the last time we saw each other, and it felt like it ended on a good note. Why that is so important to me is a subject of much shame, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s just that I messed around with him so fast that I guess a part of me is not only trying to prove to him that I’m really not “like that”, but I’m also trying to prove it to myself. Yes, my cred. as a feminist has officially dwindled to negative 20.

And to top it off, Leslie left a message for me stating that Luis has popped the question. My single friend, poof! And a wedding now too?! Shit man, shit. Wait a sec, am I now one of those aging pathetic single ladies bitching and moaning about always being a bridesmaid and never a bride? Sigh… Fem cred just fell to negative 90.

Falling (again), Potentially Flat, But FOCUSED!

Omar, my very first e-crush called me the other night, and I feel like he just sucked me back in with one phone call. I just hate how it’ll feel like we’ve been talking for 20 minutes and 2 hrs has passed. It’s like being back on “the benches” in college; so comfy and right that it creates a time warp. I think we get along so very well, which is why it’s totally fucking with my head to know that his avg. contact w/me is twice a month. At first we “talked” every day, and now he just calls once in a while. My head tells me that he’s not into me, but my heart chimes in with such gems as “You told him you didn’t want to meet him, so what do you expect” “You shouldn’t have told him you went out w/other match.com guys” and “Maybe he really likes you, but he knows he’s not in an emotional position to commit, so he’s just keeping in touch until the time is right.” WHATEVER! My penchant for being a stoopid girl truly knows no bounds.

My Mexican “Tiny” is MIA, and I feel in my bones that he will remain so indefinitely. It dents my ego a little, but that guy is kinda messed up, and I knew that from the first moment he uttered “So you’re pretty, you cook, and you’re nice, but you’re not married. What’s wrong with you?” I’m telling you, between his charm, wit, and the size of his dick, I know that one day I’m going to look back on the experience and just shake my head. I’m already looking forward to some other options. I couldn’t give Daniel the old “kiss off” because I’m too damn nice, although Michele says that stringing someone along is a crappier thing to do in the long run (but I can tell you, in the short run it feels A-OK to the kisser). He’s gone on vacation for the next 2 weeks, so that may be enough time to come up with a good alibi. This is what I’ve come up with so far: “I just met the man of my dreams two days ago! Aren’t you glad we never kissed, because that would have been weird?! Wanna go bowling?” Yes, I think that should go well. (Please read last sentence in previous paragraph, as it applies here as well)

My diet is entering a new phase. The “holy shit, if I don’t have at least one glass of milk I WILL DIE” phase. That, and I can’t do Atkins anymore because it just costs too damn much! I went shopping yesterday and spent $40, but that will last me about 2 weeks. Compare that to the $90 I’m used to spending on all my “Meaties”, and you’ll see why I have to now change. I’m mostly worried about the hunger factor. When you’re on Atkins you hardly ever get hungry, but on a regular, high carb/lowfat diet, hunger is just part of the process. That and when I got fit years ago, my tits dwindled down to C-cups, so I’m going to miss the ladies. Y’know, my boobs haven’t gotten smaller on Atkins, though I have lost about 4 sizes so far, so I might do the lowfat thing for a month or so, then get back into Atkins. I like my boobs, and they are definitely worth fighting for. (Hopefully not the first time that sentiment has been expressed, because it just feels so right). Either way, I MUST stay focused on exercise. It’s the only way I’m going to be successful, and I’m not going to beat myself up about the fact that I totally tanked in May on the Stairmaster front, but my Vegas vacation is officially over.