Break Like the Wind!

As part of my never-ending quest to save myself from getting sucked into the United States “Healthcare System” and breaking yet another chair in public with my fat ass (up to 3 so far) I am on a new mission to get in a better shape.

"Party Platter" is a shape, right?

Last year I went vegetarian and that alone has helped tremendously. Thanks to a diet centered around fruits and vegetables, I now have the happiest colon in the world. And according to my husband, the most productive one.

But even though I feel good, not all vegetarian food is healthy, and that + my life-long sugar addiction still turns my “skinny jeans” into “sausage casings.” So I somehow gotta burn off the booze and chocolate-covered cheesy burrito pizzas I regularly throw down my neck so I don’t make my Spanx and my heart cry so much.

I have attempted “exercise" before, and even though John Oates was an amazing workout partner, it didn’t last and I think that is because 1) the 2012 Hall and Oates tour and 2) I didn’t have a tangible goal in place. It’s so easy to slide into the deep ranch dressing-filled valley of bad habits when you aren’t made accountable for your insatiable desire for naps over laps.

So this, the Year of Our Lord 2016, I am going to do the Bike MS: City to Shore (150 miles on my bicycle) September 24 and 25, and the Philly Half Marathon (13.1 miles on my feet) on November 20. That’s GOALS people! Stupid, crazy fucking GOALS!

I have proudly worn the diaper shorts soaked in Vaseline for the City to Shore ride 6 times now, so I know what to expect and what I need to do to train (tip: asking all your friends if they have any leftover Vicodin from a tooth extraction is KEY.) But this half marathon is all new to me. As is the concept of “running."

I’ve been using this app that claims to get you running a 5k (3.1 miles) in as little as 9 weeks. So far it’s great — I’ve been on week 2 for the past 10 weeks now.

The difference between cycling and running is that when I cycle I go fast and far and I don’t trip. And when I run I wish I was on a bicycle. I’ve got Double D-Bags* up top and a Wide Load on the bottom (aka, The Lady Stabson Barren Cavern) which makes me better suited for sports like hula-hooping and being a floatation device than running. This in itself makes me move slow but what is really frustrating is that I can’t get above a 4 mph pace because anything faster causes highly volatile thigh friction.

Lady Stabson clocks in at 6 mph and provides heat
for the entire neighborhood

But despite the fact I look like a giant cave troll chasing a balloon just out of reach when I’m running, I am committed to staying on track with my training and eventually completing this half marathon. Hopefully between now and November I will slim down to a svelte Uruk Hai and my heart will stay intact just long enough for me to fling myself over the half marathon finish line.

I will share my progress (read: whine about side stitches and my low lung capacity) here throughout the months leading up the events so stay tuned for more. The next phase in my training is totally reworking my running playlist. Needs more Devin Townsend as I can still hear myself wheezing over the usual David Coverdale.

In the meantime, I am raising money for the Philadelphia/New Jersey chapter of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society (I’m not riding that ridiculous distance for nothing!) so please visit my fundraising page and do something good today to balance out the bad from reading this.

Forever Your Eye of the Tiger,

Lady Stabson
xoxo

*Not to be confused with these Double D-Bags:

Why Spring Hates Your Guts Right Now

It's finally Spring here in beautiful Philadelphia -- the weather is warm, the sun is shining and I am FUCKING MISERABLE. 

This beginning of Spring is like a $7.99 All-You-Can-Eat seafood dinner from a restaurant in Tulsa, OK that Mother Nature ate on a Saturday night after binging on moonshine from a homeless man's boot. It is a pool of sick that gets sprayed all over everything which I am forced to inhale and then hork back up again in the form of lime-green phlegm bombs.

Usually this attack only lasts for a few days, and I can easily medicate my way through it before the weekend. But this year Mother Nature's hot vomit slurry has gone deep into my breathing tubes and for almost 2 weeks now I've done nothing but lie around in my own lazy filth, but THIS TIME it's more difficult to breathe and more painful to verbally complain about it all.

Being in this unusually prolonged New England vortex of snot prompted me to find out exactly why this year has been different than others, and I learned there are 3 main reasons and, surprisingly, none of them seem to be my fault: 

1. Spring took its fucking time getting here: this past winter was very cold and very wet, like a penguin prom queen. This delay in warmer weather caused a delay in the release of pollen from some types of trees that would typically perform their spooging rituals much earlier in the season. So what we have right now is every damn boy tree you can imagine encircling us in an epic pollen circle-jerk. 

2. Your town is one big flora sausage party: According to weather.com, "when it comes to planning parks and greenspaces, many cities opt for male trees over female trees since they create less mess -- female trees produce seeds that often fall to the ground, making cleaning the sidewalks and grassy areas a pain. Whereas male trees don't, instead they produce pollen." THIS IS THE MOST SEXIST THING I HAVE READ TODAY.

3. That global warming phenomenon that is caused by the same people who deny its existence and seems to be RUINING EVERYTHING: According to many scientists who appear to be smarter than me, the increased prevalence of warmer climates and carbon-dioxide in the atmosphere are causing higher concentrations of pollen explosions everywhere. So warmer weather + more Co2 = dirty tree porn. Also, not only is the weather generally warmer this Spring, recently there have been ridiculous fluctuations in temperature within just a 24-hour period which causes human immune systems to spin out of control and therefore express more severe allergic reactions to the aforementioned tree facials.  

This explanation for why this is happening to me satisfies my need to blame something or someone for all my problems, but it doesn't actually make me feel any better. I've been trying all kinds of medication cocktails and I think I've finally got the right combination: 

I hope you are not suffering like I am, but if you are, let me know how you are getting through this and if you are interested in helping me build a hermetically sealed cave to live in next Spring. Or maybe I'll just walk around in a giant condom suit lubricated with antihistamines. 

I Heart Philly Always and Forever

Do you know what it feels like to have Philadelphia throw itself on you and squeeze your heart into a million pieces so it shoots out of every orifice as a rainbow surrounded by butterfly puppies and fragrant flower petals? I certainly do.

Philadelphia came on strong Wednesday night when the Phillies beat the LA Dodgers 10-4 to become the National League Champions, and we have been in a silly tickle-fight ever since. We really can't keep our hands off each other. And in only a few more days we'll be walking hand-in-hand into the World Series...swoooooooon!

But just when I thought Philly couldn't sweep me off my feet any higher, Friday night the beautiful city embraced me like an old lover, whispering "you're still the one" with an evening of music straight from her heart at the place where we had our first date many years ago.

The place was the Spectrum, the stadium where I saw my first ever concert back in '94--The Phil Collins JC Penney's Homeless Tour---and where I've seen many other concerts, hockey, and basketball games before they moved on to the bigger (read: vacuous) Wachovia Center. The line-up was a trifecta of hometown heroes: The Hooters, Todd Rundgren, and Hall & Oates. Featuring an appearance by the Bacon Brothers who introduced said Hall & Oates. And Philadelphia was not holding back tonight: this was the 2nd to last act that will ever grace the Spectrum stage before it gets demolished and turned into an Applebees parking lot at the end of the year.

The concert was great fun except for the part where we thought that Todd Rundgren was the first act and not the second so I missed seeing The Hooters, only one of my favorite bands from childhood. No biggie. Well, maybe I took out my frustration on him a little bit

But Philly and I quickly kissed and made up when Hall & Oates took the stage and made sweet love to our nostalgic ears. It was a delicious homecoming, especially since I was able to share it with Nicole who was listening to Hall and Oates with me back in our Zane-North days. To see and hear for yourself, here is a clip I am dedicating to the 500 people who said, "I can go for that!" when I told them I was going to a Hall & Oates concert.

Although this chick climaxed pretty much during the 2nd song of the set,

for me the night exploded with an extended set featuring all 3 acts declaring their Philly love with some of the greatest songs by some of the greatest artists this city ever busted out: "Expressway to Your Heart" by the Soul Survivors, "Backstabbers" by the O'Jays, and "Disco Inferno" by the Trammps to name a few that I remember. I needed a fucking cigarette after that.

Sigh. This was a night that Philly and I will tell our grandkids about because it was a snapshot of all the things she brings to the relationship; she's like the Spectrum: perfect-sized and a little rough around its honest edges, and like the music that still endures and endears people who still truly love solid, honest rock music (the best people of all). But above all else, she gives me the comfort of knowing this is exactly where I belong and I could never be in love like this anywhere else in the world. Especially when you're singing your heart out to "Rich Girl" in a Phillies tee.

XOPHI