From childhood through my early adult years, I was infamous for my Twinkie consumption. The crinkle of a Twinkie wrapper would cause my childhood cat to wake from her vegetative state to chomp on the other end. The cat lost all of her teeth by age four. After swimming my worst time at a high school meet, my male swim coach stormed into the girls' locker room after receiving a not-so anonymous tip. Five boxes of Twinkies fell out of my locker on his head. I was threatened with getting kicked off the team and banned from the Hostess factory across the street. Shabby Chic, who was the president of our college's Hillel, had misgivings about keeping an unopened box of Twinkies in our shared room after debating whether they were kosher for Passover. Instead of flowers or chocolates, I was much happier to receive a box of Twinkies for Valentine's Day that was inscribed, "To the sweetest cake I know."
Of course, when the Alpha Male and I started seriously dating, eating Twinkies as if they were a major food group was a potential deal breaker. Although he gave me a White Trash Cookbook earlier, our discussion eventually became analogous to a relationship conversation between a smoker and non-smoker.
"I can't really see myself spending the rest of my life inhaling Twinkies," said Alpha Male.
Obviously, I chose the Alpha Male, which was a wise choice for many reasons. In Tara Parker Pope's New York Times article with Steve Ettlinger, author of the book “Twinkie, Deconstructed,” here's direct evidence that Twinkies are probably more hazardous to human health than any nuclear meltdown or living in North Korea:
Question: What ingredients used in Twinkies most surprised you?
Answer: Vitamins. I didn’t have a clue where they came from, but I suspect that, like me, many people think that they are squeezed from seeds or extracted from bark or something like that. I found they were, by and large, made from petroleum and fermented in enormous industrial plants mostly in China. To find out that a lot of my vitamins, and in particular the B vitamins in enriched flour that are in a Twinkie, were made from Chinese petroleum just blew my mind.
Vitamins extracted from Chinese petroleum? How am I still alive? Somehow, the Alpha Male saves me again.
About Me
- TrophyWifeResolution
- Despite many failed attempts to exercise more, eat better, and take better care of myself, I've decided to make the "Trophy Wife Resolution." Since I am the complete anti-thesis of a trophy wife, let's see if I can rise to the challenge!
Showing posts with label Alpha Male. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alpha Male. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Saturday, July 9, 2011
$9 Call Girl
After maintaining a sleep diary for two months and trying to battle insomnia with her daily dose of 3 mg of melatonin, the Jewish Mutha felt it was time for me to make good on my end of the bargain. With school out, the kids, the Harvard Valedictorian, and I trekked to New Jersey.
During our time there, the Alpha Male and I were able to sneak out for dinner at a restaurant we used to frequent when we lived in Edgewater, New Jersey. Heaven back then was having a place to eat within a 3 minute walking distance that offered good food and ambience, allowing us to comfortably escape our newborn parenting responsibilities for an hour.
Since I have a reputation for being perpetually late, the Alpha Male reminded me that I should make every effort to be on time. To do so, I did not have time to put on any make-up. I threw on the only outfit that wasn't drenched in animal hair.
Although the Alpha Male was traveling from several states away, he developed amnesia about what it was like to travel in summer rush hour traffic into New York's Port Authority on a Friday. Needless to say, when I arrived 10 minutes early, he called to let me know he'd be at least an hour late.
At that point, my only option was to be the first person to sit at the bar drinking a white russian and to blankly watch the Ryan O'Neil and Farrah Fawcett story without sound. About 15 minutes later, a 60-something well-dressed man sat a seat away from me. A few minutes more went by and he asked, "How much?"
I looked at my drink and said, "I assume that it's about $9."
"That's it?," he asked, raising the white caterpillars above his eyes.
"That appears to be the going rate this days," I replied.
"OK. Let's go," he said getting up from his chair.
It dawned on me: He thought I was a prostitute.
I raised my ringed finger (when I probably should have given him my middle one in retrospect), and said, "I'm not going anywhere."
Embarrassed, he slid two seats over, ordered a hamburger and tried to eat as fast as possible.
The female bartender, who witnessed the entire exchange, slid me another white russian. She said, "Sweetheart, this one is on the house."
Another guy out of MTV's Jersey Shore -- about my middle age -- wound up sitting next to me. He didn't start talking to me until this trio from "Jersey's hood" started a game of quizzing what New Jersey songs we should request from the piano player.
About an hour and a half later, the Alpha Male walks in to see me drinking and conversing with the Jersey hood. He walked over to the bar, gently grabbed my arm to steer me away and asked, "Getting re-acquainted with the locals, I see?"
I told him it was his lucky night. He scored the $9 call girl.
During our time there, the Alpha Male and I were able to sneak out for dinner at a restaurant we used to frequent when we lived in Edgewater, New Jersey. Heaven back then was having a place to eat within a 3 minute walking distance that offered good food and ambience, allowing us to comfortably escape our newborn parenting responsibilities for an hour.
Since I have a reputation for being perpetually late, the Alpha Male reminded me that I should make every effort to be on time. To do so, I did not have time to put on any make-up. I threw on the only outfit that wasn't drenched in animal hair.
Although the Alpha Male was traveling from several states away, he developed amnesia about what it was like to travel in summer rush hour traffic into New York's Port Authority on a Friday. Needless to say, when I arrived 10 minutes early, he called to let me know he'd be at least an hour late.
At that point, my only option was to be the first person to sit at the bar drinking a white russian and to blankly watch the Ryan O'Neil and Farrah Fawcett story without sound. About 15 minutes later, a 60-something well-dressed man sat a seat away from me. A few minutes more went by and he asked, "How much?"
I looked at my drink and said, "I assume that it's about $9."
"That's it?," he asked, raising the white caterpillars above his eyes.
"That appears to be the going rate this days," I replied.
"OK. Let's go," he said getting up from his chair.
It dawned on me: He thought I was a prostitute.
I raised my ringed finger (when I probably should have given him my middle one in retrospect), and said, "I'm not going anywhere."
Embarrassed, he slid two seats over, ordered a hamburger and tried to eat as fast as possible.
The female bartender, who witnessed the entire exchange, slid me another white russian. She said, "Sweetheart, this one is on the house."
Another guy out of MTV's Jersey Shore -- about my middle age -- wound up sitting next to me. He didn't start talking to me until this trio from "Jersey's hood" started a game of quizzing what New Jersey songs we should request from the piano player.
About an hour and a half later, the Alpha Male walks in to see me drinking and conversing with the Jersey hood. He walked over to the bar, gently grabbed my arm to steer me away and asked, "Getting re-acquainted with the locals, I see?"
I told him it was his lucky night. He scored the $9 call girl.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
A Not So Trophy Wife Valentine's Day
Since my life is dictated by people under age 18, which includes my own spawn and a handful of teen babysitters, our initial Valentine's Day plans were put to a screeching halt days before. The babysitter of the evening had better plans, which probably involved a fast car and a cute guy.
While I had initially planned to do something unconventional, which included taking the Alpha Male dog-sledding in a park nearby, I scored getting dinner and movie reservations at a local historical plantation last-minute. Sounds romantic?
Yeah, I thought so too.
I found another babysitter, who is fortunately the bookish type, knowing her chances of finding someone to hang out with other than her parents were probably as good as mine in high school.
Like always, we arrived more than fashionably late. We were seated at the last available table, which was positioned completely away from the more endearing elements of the room, such as the fireplace and soft lightning. Instead, we were positioned under a blaring spotlight and next to the harried kitchen staff.
Alpha Male felt we should have dressed better than his sport coat and my tops and pants.
After we wolfed down dinner since our waitress was politely encouraging us to move quickly, the movie selections offered were "Au Chocolat" and an independent film called "Tiny Furniture."
We opted for the indie since Alpha Male had already seen the other movie. He had warned me ahead of time that he was worried it would be a pretentious, self-important movie made by some twenty-something pseudo-intellectual who was living off her parent's wealth. Nothing is a bigger buzz kill for someone who reads the The Economist like the Fundamentalists read the Bible.
I advised that we should sit in the back row in case the movie became too "boring" so we could pretend we were teenagers again. Once Alpha Male saw the silver-haired set surrounding us, he advised that the best I could hope for myself was to sleep the movie out.
Unfortunately, the movie lived below the Alpha Male's minimum expectations. While I don't want to give any spoilers, I wouldn't have rented this movie at the library. It ranked up there with the movie "Magnolia," which only Mensa Sister understands. Other than two snarky lines given by the stereotypical New Yorker who wore only a bra for most of the feature, the trailer's critic comments about the movie being a "droll" sums it up without the other unnecessary adjectives.
When Alpha Male let out a hysterical laugh once the movie was finally over, I knew what that meant. When I came back to the house after dropping the babysitter off, he was already catatonic in bed.
No one accused me of being too hot on Valentine's Day.
While I had initially planned to do something unconventional, which included taking the Alpha Male dog-sledding in a park nearby, I scored getting dinner and movie reservations at a local historical plantation last-minute. Sounds romantic?
Yeah, I thought so too.
I found another babysitter, who is fortunately the bookish type, knowing her chances of finding someone to hang out with other than her parents were probably as good as mine in high school.
Like always, we arrived more than fashionably late. We were seated at the last available table, which was positioned completely away from the more endearing elements of the room, such as the fireplace and soft lightning. Instead, we were positioned under a blaring spotlight and next to the harried kitchen staff.
Alpha Male felt we should have dressed better than his sport coat and my tops and pants.
After we wolfed down dinner since our waitress was politely encouraging us to move quickly, the movie selections offered were "Au Chocolat" and an independent film called "Tiny Furniture."
We opted for the indie since Alpha Male had already seen the other movie. He had warned me ahead of time that he was worried it would be a pretentious, self-important movie made by some twenty-something pseudo-intellectual who was living off her parent's wealth. Nothing is a bigger buzz kill for someone who reads the The Economist like the Fundamentalists read the Bible.
I advised that we should sit in the back row in case the movie became too "boring" so we could pretend we were teenagers again. Once Alpha Male saw the silver-haired set surrounding us, he advised that the best I could hope for myself was to sleep the movie out.
Unfortunately, the movie lived below the Alpha Male's minimum expectations. While I don't want to give any spoilers, I wouldn't have rented this movie at the library. It ranked up there with the movie "Magnolia," which only Mensa Sister understands. Other than two snarky lines given by the stereotypical New Yorker who wore only a bra for most of the feature, the trailer's critic comments about the movie being a "droll" sums it up without the other unnecessary adjectives.
When Alpha Male let out a hysterical laugh once the movie was finally over, I knew what that meant. When I came back to the house after dropping the babysitter off, he was already catatonic in bed.
No one accused me of being too hot on Valentine's Day.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
A Trophy Wife Night
A friend invited me to an Arbonne spa party at her house Friday night. Although I was warned in advance it would be a product party pyramid-scheme, I was interested in tips to help a Trophy-Wife-In-Need-Of-Much-Training, especially since an effective eye wrinkle cream remains elusive to me. With Wonder Mom and my friend there, the night was full of promise.
I arrived more than fashionably late and was greeted at the door by the smiling Professional, who was not my friend. Immediately, I knew I was dealing with an expert in the art of selling. She politely introduced herself, took my coat, didn't allow me to ask too many questions and told me I needed to get a "mask" on my face.
She whisked me toward the bathroom. My friend came out of the adjacent living room to greet me. After exchanging hugs, she encouraged me to say hi to the others in the living room. When I peeked in, the room was covered with ghostly white creamed faces with feet in plastic tubs of water. I didn't know anyone. I realized I was going to be conducting an awkward ritual of personal hygiene in front of strangers until...
Wonder Mom yelled to me from the back of the room. I almost recognized her behind the mask. She complimented my hair and asked what I did differently with it.
"I brushed it," I replied.
A few giggles passed among strangers. After The Professional saw that I had had my fun, she took me into the bathroom and showed me how to put on my mask.
The Professional had a plan for me. Once I was done, she escorted me from the bathroom to a seat in the corner. I sat next to an acquaintance, who is the prettier version of Jennifer Grey from the movie Dirty Dancing, because "Nobody puts Baby in the corner."
To minimize the odor emanating from my stinky Hobbit feet, I quickly submerged my toes in the plastic tub of warm water, which had hot rocks at the bottom. I felt like an actor in Japanese Noh theater as The Professional directed the room, knowing everyone's name, sharing laughs like an old friend and telling us what's good for us.
Then, The Professional disappeared. Entering center stage was The Novice.
Using laminated index cards, the Novice stood in front of the room and began the product presentation. Within 60 seconds, she was struggling to give the presentation -- with her index cards. I resigned that I would politely keep my mouth shut and wait patiently for it all to be over soon until...
she brought out the candy. Anyone that answered or asked questions about the products would get a piece of chocolate. Of course, the one with the most chocolate wins a prize.
I always win when it comes to chocolate.
Then the Novice asked her first question: "How long does it take for something to penetrate the skin?"
As some of the more polite people in the audience raised their hands, I blurted out, "Well, that depends."
Stunned, the Novice stared at me. Behind her white mask, Wonder Mom gave a vulpine smile.
"Well, what do you mean, it depends?," the Novice stammered.
"It depends on what type of skin, skin permeability, the age of it, texture of skin, and what type of product or medicine," I rambled on. The Novice froze. Eyes widened behind the masks and the room became quiet. To break up the tension, I replied, "I'm a geek. There's a reason they put me in the corner!"
A few laughs transpired, but the Novice knew she needed to hold her ground. She gave me a piece of candy to shut me up.
"26 seconds is all it takes," the Novice replied.
Wonder Mom chimed in, "She's a nurse so she knows stuff."
The Professional, who reappeared from the back, said, "Well, it's great that you are here to share this with us."
Yeah, right.
Others started asking questions. The Novice tried to defer to The Professional, who seemed to disappear every few moments and throw the questions back hardball style at her. It was like the middle school teacher who wants to embarrass the unprepared student. Struggling, The Novice used an audience member, who had used the products, for anecdotal support. After her story was over, I only had a few moments to get some more questions in to win the prize.
"So how are these eye cream ingredients better than what's in retinol-containing products?," I asked.
"Well, that stuff is just bad!" the Novice responded.
One of my personality defects is I have a hard time staying quiet and polite when mythology is being dispensed in way that can triumph over fact. People with this personality defect usually get killed early on in a revolt.
The Professional smartly stepped in before I could open my mouth and said, "Well, our products are made from plants cells. Retinol comes from an animal cell.
And since our products are vegan, they are natural...."
and implied that they are better for you. However, it's a little known fact that most of the world's poisons come from plants and not animals.
The Novice handed me a second piece of candy during the Professional's talk. I backed off. The Novice was quickly learning I could be tamed just like Pavlov's dogs until...
It was time to wipe off the mask and try some products. A variety of creams were sampled. The Novice sprayed and accidentally blinded a few with another product. Then, we tried the much-anticipated eye wrinkle cream.
At first, I felt tingling around my eyes and was excited that something might actually be minimizing the bags of luggage traveling under my eyes. 60 seconds later, I tapped the prettier version of Jennifer Grey on the shoulder and asked, "Can I please borrow a mirror? My eyes are burning!"
The Novice must have heard. She dropped another piece of candy in my hand when no one was looking. No questions asked.
Not only were my eyes burning, but I failed to notice that most of the chocolate had melted in my hand.
When I got the mirror, I wasn't looking like a Trophy Wife. It looked like I had wiped my kids' butt and then used the same cloth to clean my face.
After wiping my face, a catalog was passed around. The grand cost for whole set was about $300. I was happy to learn the rock trick.
The Novice then began her talk about how we could save money buying the products. Of course, you could become a consultant, go to Vegas, sell this stuff to your friends and drive a white Mercedes to get the stuff cheap. It's a win-win for everyone!
"Can you imagine what Alpha Male would do if you drove up to the house in a white Mercedes?," Wonder Mom leaned over and quietly asked me.
He would probably wonder how much the kids went for on Ebay.
It was obvious many weren't going to buy anything. The room started clearing out. The Professional jumped in for a dramatic rescue. She discussed how some of the baby care products were curing her baby's eczema, when no other prescribed medications worked, after using tons of diaper cream and body wash every other night. She decided to up the ante by sharing how such creams also helped relieve the fever blisters around her mouth(aka, herpes). For about $40 to $50, your baby's eczema and herpes could be cured too.
The prettier version of Jennifer Grey, who saw my eyes burn, bought something. The Novice came over to count what was left of my candy. We all knew I had the most.
Wonder Mom was the only other person that noticed I didn't get my prize.
I arrived more than fashionably late and was greeted at the door by the smiling Professional, who was not my friend. Immediately, I knew I was dealing with an expert in the art of selling. She politely introduced herself, took my coat, didn't allow me to ask too many questions and told me I needed to get a "mask" on my face.
She whisked me toward the bathroom. My friend came out of the adjacent living room to greet me. After exchanging hugs, she encouraged me to say hi to the others in the living room. When I peeked in, the room was covered with ghostly white creamed faces with feet in plastic tubs of water. I didn't know anyone. I realized I was going to be conducting an awkward ritual of personal hygiene in front of strangers until...
Wonder Mom yelled to me from the back of the room. I almost recognized her behind the mask. She complimented my hair and asked what I did differently with it.
"I brushed it," I replied.
A few giggles passed among strangers. After The Professional saw that I had had my fun, she took me into the bathroom and showed me how to put on my mask.
The Professional had a plan for me. Once I was done, she escorted me from the bathroom to a seat in the corner. I sat next to an acquaintance, who is the prettier version of Jennifer Grey from the movie Dirty Dancing, because "Nobody puts Baby in the corner."
To minimize the odor emanating from my stinky Hobbit feet, I quickly submerged my toes in the plastic tub of warm water, which had hot rocks at the bottom. I felt like an actor in Japanese Noh theater as The Professional directed the room, knowing everyone's name, sharing laughs like an old friend and telling us what's good for us.
Then, The Professional disappeared. Entering center stage was The Novice.
Using laminated index cards, the Novice stood in front of the room and began the product presentation. Within 60 seconds, she was struggling to give the presentation -- with her index cards. I resigned that I would politely keep my mouth shut and wait patiently for it all to be over soon until...
she brought out the candy. Anyone that answered or asked questions about the products would get a piece of chocolate. Of course, the one with the most chocolate wins a prize.
I always win when it comes to chocolate.
Then the Novice asked her first question: "How long does it take for something to penetrate the skin?"
As some of the more polite people in the audience raised their hands, I blurted out, "Well, that depends."
Stunned, the Novice stared at me. Behind her white mask, Wonder Mom gave a vulpine smile.
"Well, what do you mean, it depends?," the Novice stammered.
"It depends on what type of skin, skin permeability, the age of it, texture of skin, and what type of product or medicine," I rambled on. The Novice froze. Eyes widened behind the masks and the room became quiet. To break up the tension, I replied, "I'm a geek. There's a reason they put me in the corner!"
A few laughs transpired, but the Novice knew she needed to hold her ground. She gave me a piece of candy to shut me up.
"26 seconds is all it takes," the Novice replied.
Wonder Mom chimed in, "She's a nurse so she knows stuff."
The Professional, who reappeared from the back, said, "Well, it's great that you are here to share this with us."
Yeah, right.
Others started asking questions. The Novice tried to defer to The Professional, who seemed to disappear every few moments and throw the questions back hardball style at her. It was like the middle school teacher who wants to embarrass the unprepared student. Struggling, The Novice used an audience member, who had used the products, for anecdotal support. After her story was over, I only had a few moments to get some more questions in to win the prize.
"So how are these eye cream ingredients better than what's in retinol-containing products?," I asked.
"Well, that stuff is just bad!" the Novice responded.
One of my personality defects is I have a hard time staying quiet and polite when mythology is being dispensed in way that can triumph over fact. People with this personality defect usually get killed early on in a revolt.
The Professional smartly stepped in before I could open my mouth and said, "Well, our products are made from plants cells. Retinol comes from an animal cell.
And since our products are vegan, they are natural...."
and implied that they are better for you. However, it's a little known fact that most of the world's poisons come from plants and not animals.
The Novice handed me a second piece of candy during the Professional's talk. I backed off. The Novice was quickly learning I could be tamed just like Pavlov's dogs until...
It was time to wipe off the mask and try some products. A variety of creams were sampled. The Novice sprayed and accidentally blinded a few with another product. Then, we tried the much-anticipated eye wrinkle cream.
At first, I felt tingling around my eyes and was excited that something might actually be minimizing the bags of luggage traveling under my eyes. 60 seconds later, I tapped the prettier version of Jennifer Grey on the shoulder and asked, "Can I please borrow a mirror? My eyes are burning!"
The Novice must have heard. She dropped another piece of candy in my hand when no one was looking. No questions asked.
Not only were my eyes burning, but I failed to notice that most of the chocolate had melted in my hand.
When I got the mirror, I wasn't looking like a Trophy Wife. It looked like I had wiped my kids' butt and then used the same cloth to clean my face.
After wiping my face, a catalog was passed around. The grand cost for whole set was about $300. I was happy to learn the rock trick.
The Novice then began her talk about how we could save money buying the products. Of course, you could become a consultant, go to Vegas, sell this stuff to your friends and drive a white Mercedes to get the stuff cheap. It's a win-win for everyone!
"Can you imagine what Alpha Male would do if you drove up to the house in a white Mercedes?," Wonder Mom leaned over and quietly asked me.
He would probably wonder how much the kids went for on Ebay.
It was obvious many weren't going to buy anything. The room started clearing out. The Professional jumped in for a dramatic rescue. She discussed how some of the baby care products were curing her baby's eczema, when no other prescribed medications worked, after using tons of diaper cream and body wash every other night. She decided to up the ante by sharing how such creams also helped relieve the fever blisters around her mouth(aka, herpes). For about $40 to $50, your baby's eczema and herpes could be cured too.
The prettier version of Jennifer Grey, who saw my eyes burn, bought something. The Novice came over to count what was left of my candy. We all knew I had the most.
Wonder Mom was the only other person that noticed I didn't get my prize.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
CPR (Not for Me) , Work Out Video Suggestions Needed and ADHD Part Deux
Last night I took my CPR re-certification class. I have had to use these skills twice in my life. I've performed CPR on an infant, who fortunately lived, while working at a hospital. When I was working at an academic center, I also saved a professor from choking on a jellybean. Simultaneously, I tried to get the professor's poodle's mouth off my leg in the middle of doing the Heimlich. (The professor later gave me a bag of jellybeans as a thank you.) If you have only a few hours to spare to volunteer for anything, CPR is one of those skills I recommend everyone take time to learn.
In other news, I asked the Therapist for her advice about the ADHD suggested diagnosis. I'm lucky to be surrounded by so many shrinks. It saves on health care costs.
Although she reminded me it's out of her scope of practice to diagnosis, she reminded me that we need to examine my life situation. In addition to shlepping kids, my life involves daily juggling and re-prioritizing between consulting gigs and life. For me, work and family life are seamless. My home is my office minus a few hours a week at the fitness center. My kids are always with me minus 1.5 hours in the day. Clients contact me with new deadlines or projects in the middle of the day. While I've been able to manage expectations for the majority of the time, my life is filled with constant interruptions and surprises.
Life is usually interesting.
Either way, the jury is still out on the ADHD. I'll have to ask my Jewish mutha. As the inventor of Jewish Mutha Munchausen's, she's always looking for a new diagnosis to explain my current state of existence.
In better news, Alpha Male realizes I'm taking the Trophy Wife Resolution seriously. He appreciates that dinner has come a long way from my days of cooking chicken in a coffee pot.
He swindled a book store discount for workout videos. Now I won't be able to make the excuse that I need to return the library rentals to avoid late fees. I need to make a decision fast because the offer expires on Friday. Any suggestions for a great workout video? Other than the Jersey Shore's Situation's ab video, any others in that area would be greatly appreciated!
In other news, I asked the Therapist for her advice about the ADHD suggested diagnosis. I'm lucky to be surrounded by so many shrinks. It saves on health care costs.
Although she reminded me it's out of her scope of practice to diagnosis, she reminded me that we need to examine my life situation. In addition to shlepping kids, my life involves daily juggling and re-prioritizing between consulting gigs and life. For me, work and family life are seamless. My home is my office minus a few hours a week at the fitness center. My kids are always with me minus 1.5 hours in the day. Clients contact me with new deadlines or projects in the middle of the day. While I've been able to manage expectations for the majority of the time, my life is filled with constant interruptions and surprises.
Life is usually interesting.
Either way, the jury is still out on the ADHD. I'll have to ask my Jewish mutha. As the inventor of Jewish Mutha Munchausen's, she's always looking for a new diagnosis to explain my current state of existence.
In better news, Alpha Male realizes I'm taking the Trophy Wife Resolution seriously. He appreciates that dinner has come a long way from my days of cooking chicken in a coffee pot.
He swindled a book store discount for workout videos. Now I won't be able to make the excuse that I need to return the library rentals to avoid late fees. I need to make a decision fast because the offer expires on Friday. Any suggestions for a great workout video? Other than the Jersey Shore's Situation's ab video, any others in that area would be greatly appreciated!
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