I gotta pee!

Have you ever thought about the pace of your walk? Friends tell me that I walk really fast. Never have I moved so quick as I did today.

When buds candidates get into their 3rd week of training they do night swims. Their instructors tell them to swim with a purpose or the sharks will eat them alive. A recent study showed that their swim times during the night were faster than during the day due to shark anxiety. Now no one really knows what goes on during buds training, other than buds, but that's what discovery channel reported. 

Anyways, these buds candidates had nothing on me today. I had to go the bathroom so bad! And I mean really bad! I have a problem with drinking coffee. Its a love hate relationship because it sure goes right through you. I ate at the galley with some friends tonight and sure enough, drank three cups of coffee. Don't ask me why I didn't use the head at the galley before I left but as soon as I started walking it hit me!

After drinking 16 Dr. Peppers, Forrest Gump once told the president, "I gotta pee." I bet he sped to the bathroom through the white house. I too, must have made it from the galley to the spectrum in five minute tonight. It normally takes me fifteen, haha.

Now hopefully this post doesn't offend anyone but, true story, everyone poops! Have you ever sat on the toilet and thought about what other famous people are sitting on the toilet taking a dump at the exact same time as you. I have. I bet in my lifetime, I've shared many bathroom breaks with celebrities such as, Jennifer Aniston, Richard Gere, probably even, Mila Kunis.

I don't understand why guys get so offended when they think about women pooping. It happens, you know..shit. No matter how pretty the girl is, we all do it.

While I'm on the topic of bathroom breaks, I must tell you guys about my first experience with Japanese toilets. They are not like toilets in the states. These toilets are Toto brand, which my mom could tell you all about. Anyways, the toilets contain many buttons with Japanese katakana lettering on each button. The Japanese katakana doesn't help me any.

There are buttons to make the toilet seat go up and down, flush, and even spray your butt. Going to the bathroom in Japan is quite an experience. When you sit down a nice warm feeling overwhelms you. In the wintertime, there's nothing better than heated toilet seats. So as you sit down, you do your business, wipe etc. Then the button play comes in. Do not press any buttons, until you know what they do. This I learned early on. Sadly, if you're in Japan, they only way to learn the buttons is  to test them out.

It took me a couple weeks to muster up the courage to actually use these infamous buttons on Japanese toilets. One day I was at the mall with some friends and the urge hit me to take a stab at some of these buttons. The first button I pressed "simulated" the flushing sound. I guess if you get nervous when other people are in the bathroom about making noises you can press this button so they can't hear your farting/pooping noises. Well, this button  was harmless so I ventured on to press the next button.

The next button kinda took me by surprise. Like legitly. (If that's even a word.) If there's one thing I have learned about buttons on toilets in Japan...if there's one piece of advice I could give you guys, it would be to know where the stop button is BEFORE you press start.

So I pressed this infamous button and waited. All of a sudden water began shooting up at my butt. And the giggles began. My face turned red. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breath! You know when you laugh so hard you can't even talk. All you can do is flail your arms like an idiot? Check, that was me. I was thinking to myself, ok it can't spray my butt forever. It'll probably stop in a second or so. I shift to the right and to the left in search of a button, any button I could press to change the setting. As I move on the seat, water sprays everywhere through my legs. Shit! What do I do? I fumble with the buttons. There's like three buttons that don't do anything. I "simulate" flushing  like three times, but to no avail, the spraying continues. I find the off button finally. I get up legs sprayed with water. Catch my breath. Wash my hands and exit.

And you know what, I left that Japanese bathroom with pride. I had to have had the cleanest ass in all of Japan that day. When I got outside my friends were waiting and noticed that my face was red. Agee, just looked at me and all I could say was, "I pressed the buttons." We all laughed. So the moral of the story my friends, know where stop is BEFORE you press go.

DG

A Glimpse at Mediation

An old post when I first started meditating. Totally cracked myself up after reading this. I remember exact moments and conversations I have with myself when I first began meditating.

 

So, recently I've been reading Eat Pray Love. (I know, I know, its taking me awhile to read!) Anyways, Elizabeth Gilbert, the girl who travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia to find herself, is currently in India, at a meditation ashram. It got me thinking that maybe I should give meditation a try.

Om Nahmah Shivaya means "I honor the divinity that resides within me." It is a common chant, people say during meditation.
Meditation does not belong to any culture or religion. It can be a way to connect your mind's thoughts to your body's actions. I once heard that prayer is an act of talking to God as, meditation is the act of listening.

I haven't entirely figured it out yet. All I know is, it is HARD.

Here's an example of Danielle trying to meditate.
.

Danielle: Alright thoughts, go away. I cannot worry about you now. We are going to meditate.

Mind: Ok Danielle,you are clear of all thoughts. You are a little thirsty, though. Maybe you should go get us a drink.

Danielle: No I am not thirsty. We are sitting here for 8 minutes. I can get water after. Let's imagine a serene place filled with relaxation and purity.

Mind: We could pause meditation for .2 seconds so you could get water and then come back to that pure place.  Is there a boat at this place? I love boats.

Danielle: Ahh!! Stop it. Stop thinking. Stop. Stop. Stop. I'm gonna do this. I'm pushing all of my thoughts away. I am focused on nothing. I am focused on the number 3.

Mind: Ok, lets do this. I believe in you.

Danielle: God, please guide me through this. I am listening. I am focused. I am ready.

Mind: What time is it?

Danielle: Ahhhh!! Seriously? OPERATION ABORTED. I'm going to get some water.

Approximately two minutes went by. I don't know how people do it! My mind about drove me half insane for those two minutes. It felt more like hours. I couldn't even sit still. I am determined to succeed so, don't worry, I will be trying again.

DG 

Hot Pockets

For those of you who know me, know that I used to have an awesome blog called, Carolina Roots and Cowboy Boots." This blog is a continuation of that blog. I apologize for some repetition of posts from last year but words are priceless. Reminiscing old posts helps me cherish old memories. I will re post past posts here. Enjoy!


Its January. I know everyone is still kicking it into high gear going crazy over New Year's Resolutions. Losing weight, exercising, and eating just what the body needs, not what it desires. That's fine. I, however, make my own rules. Below I have posted a fun piece on eating just what your body wants, not necessarily what it needs. Remember, joy in life can come from foods!

I am an addict. In a matter of minutes I will be transported to cloud nine, dropped in the seat of ecstasy. I watch my food circle inside of the microwave, staring at the numbers counting down: 1:59, 1:58, 1:57, 1:56... I am an abuser. Every couple of days my body physically needs Hot Pockets. I go into shock. I go out of my way to get what I need, and pay whatever the cost. My lips tremble and my body convulses as I inject cheese and marinara sauce into my veins. All at once feelings of euphoria surround me. I am calm and relaxed. I am a drug abuser sitting on soggy newspapers in the rain on a sketchy street corner, hovering over a meatball marinara Hot Pocket because I will go insane if I have to wait any longer.

Finally after two minutes of patiently waiting, dreaming of the most delectable junk food item-beep beep. My hands quickly fumble for the microwave door, excitement pushes me toward exhilaration. All at once my dreams have come true. My meatball marinara Hot Pocket is ready.

The outside crust of the pocket is tender and flaky-a baked delicious brown color. I slowly remove the hot cardboard wrapper from the pocket being careful not to burn my fingers. When cooking a Hot Pocket you must be careful; they almost always gape open at the top when heat melts the cheese. The combination of cheese and marinara sauce always oozes onto the paper towel or plate you place it on.

 I bring the Hot Pocket to my mouth, anticipating the first glorious bite. I pause. Something is not right. I put the Hot Pocket back on the plate. Grab sixty cents and run down the hallway, cursing myself for being so unprepared. I could have gotten a soda during the two minutes I sat dazed, watching the Hot Pocket spin in circles. I don’t want to waste any time. My hot pocket is getting cold! I frantically push the Diet Coke button and wait for it to dispense.

I rush back down the hallway to my dorm room in a hurry to satisfy my shudders of withdrawal. The first bite of a Hot Pocket is unsurpassed. Breathtaking. Unlike every other bite of the Hot Pocket. The first bite contains double the amount of flaky crust as the rest. The sauce in the center is boiling. I almost always burn my tongue because I don’t have the patience to wait for the sauce to cool. The sauce is mixed perfectly with the cheese, spices and meatballs. With every bite you get an equal amount of each. It is my duty to take the very first bite, no one else is worthy. I do not share. An abuser, does not share.

My teeth wound the flaky crust as the top of my mouth gets burned from the boiling mixture of cheese and sauce. I twirl one of the meat balls back and forth with my tongue, trying to let it cool. The boiling temperatures do not stop me from taking the next bite. I barely take a breath in between bites. Drink, bite, sip, bite, drink…until it is gone.

I am brought back down to the reality of truth. I ate my Hot Pocket. I am sitting at my desk alone, on the verge of licking the cheese residue off of the now empty plate. Am I pathetic, or what? There is nothing left. Lunch is over. My body goes into withdrawal. Madness overcomes me as I realize I have to get started on my paper. I begin to think of ideas, or ideas begin to invade me. I scribble down adjectives describing how wonderful my hot pocket tasted. I load the paper with ideas of cheese erupting from the crust, dripping with sauce and meatballs. I draw pictures of meatballs and melted cheese. At this point, I begin to realize my paper will never get done unless I heat up another hot pocket for inspirational purposes. 

My eyes dart to the top of the microwave where the box remained, recognizing there is still one more. The box contains nutrition facts sorted neatly on the back: sodium, fat intake, calories, serving size, saturated fat…I cringe just thinking about the nutrition facts. One pocket contains 270 calories with 9 grams of fat. A serving size is one pocket. Here I am eating two. Health nuts warn us to stay away from processed foods high in saturated fat, but I am addicted.

I open up the Hot Pocket, set it in the microwave and punch the time to two minutes. Instead of gazing at the pocket spin in circles, I persuade myself that I really do need this last hot pocket to write my paper to the best of my ability. Without this last Hot Pocket, I will not truly understand the importance of the cheese to sauce ratio, the dripping of cheese on the plate, that first momentous bite with two times the amount of crust and breading as the other bites. I tell myself to cherish this last Hot Pocket, because after I am done eating, I have to start my paper.

Beep, Beep. With the sound of the microwave beep, excitement pulls at my stomach. I pull the plate out and blow on the erupted end of the Hot Pocket. I take the first bite very slowly. I want this moment to last forever, but before I know it, drink, bite, bite, bite, drink…the last Hot Pocket is gone.

 

DG