Prompted by My Sister's Dislike of Spiders...

and copied (almost) word for word from my comment on her blog.

I tell you, I don't love spiders, either, but my biggest, no, HUGEST disgust is with cockroaches. I despise them. I hate them. They are despicable, they are evil, they mess with your head, and they have absolutely no purpose whatsoever on this planet.

I'd be willing to stake my reputation as a cockroach hater that they serve no purpose on any other planet either.

They are COWARDS. They come out at night and sneak into your bread box. They hide under your sink and crawl out of your bathroom drains. When you flip on the light they scatter like a bunch of drug pushers busted by police.

They don't even have the guts to look you in the eye.

Oh, they do have GUTS though. Just try stepping on one.

You'll only do it once.

After that, you'll REMOVE your shoe and hurl it at the perp with every ounce of strength you can muster.

This is my best extermination method because the crash of the impact of shoe against wall makes enough noise that you can't hear the cockroach's body squish. Or, more accurately, crunch.

Unless it's a V-E-R-Y L-A-R-G-E cockroach, in which case I usually bellow and roar while I hurl. (Hurl the shoe I mean.) A deep, gutteral, creeped-out adrenaline roar.

You NEED that much noise because killing a cockroack is to killing a spider as eating potato chips is to eating marshmallows.

But cockroaches can outrun you. So you'd better have both shoes ready. Or a whole arsenal.

And don't think bug spray can save you. I once used nearly a whole (large) can of Raid chasing down one arrogant 4-inch cockroach. All I got was a layer of oily, slippery film on my kitchen floor. The drenched roach got away.

I hope it got arthritis in its knees.

Thank goodness we're not living among them any more. But twenty-one years later, I s.t.i.l.l. r.e.m.e.m.b.e.r.

Who else's children spent their early developmental years yelling, "Roach alert! Roach alert!"

Stardate 3/28/2009 BLOG UPDATE -

Some of us are gonna be pret-ty surprised when we read the Biggest Loser results for the end of Week 4.

UPDATE:

Okay, folks. I hope you weren't holding your collective breath while you waited for the results of last week's weigh in.

Oxygen-deprivation does not a healthy person make.

I apologize from the bottom of my file cabinet for making you wait so long, especially the esteemed James and Jana duo. LOOK AT 'EM GO! Seriously, they're going, going, g-o-i-n-ggggg.......

Most points women: JanaBrookes - 209 !!! (Annie's in 2nd place with 203, followed closely by the Princess with 201.)

Most points men: Kevin - 238!!! Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire! (Maybe there's a better expression I could have chosen to celebrate with.)

Most weight lost women: JanaBrookes - 10 lbs. !!!! Followed by Nicea holding at -7 and Shawn with -4.

Most weight lost men: James in Pink - a whopping 12 pounds lost !!! followed by Kevin with -9.

Way to go gentlemen!

This concludes the update. You will may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

END OF UPDATE.

Actually, I just changed my mind.

I'm gonna wait for Annie and Jaime to send me their results before I rush into any hasty revelations. I sooo hate to be wrong, and they might just refute the evidence heretofore collected. Stand by.

An Open Note to Jaime Escalante

I deserve the "you didn't lose it, did you?" comment from you, Jaime. You must know me pretty well!

However, the answer is no, I did not lose your check. It's actually in my purse right here in Indiana. If you don't want to hear the details of the whole story (Shawn, here's where you can tune out because I know how much you love my detailed narratives), you can stop reading now.

So. I put the checks, as they arrived, in my office. Then I remembered that you, Jaime, wanted yours cashed immediately.

(Immediately is a relative term. I learned it from my kids.)

But the next day, in a good-faith move, I made a record of who had paid, then moved the goods into the kitchen and onto the counter where I'd remember to take it all to the bank. A week later it was still there, but with a plan.

It planned to go to the bank.

It told me.

When I was packing to come see The Professor at Catholic school, I transferred the loot to my car and planned to drop it all off at the bank on my way to the airport the next day. However, I didn't get away from school early enough to do that. I'd have missed my flight!

So the Biggest Loser collateral went with me to the shuttle parking lot.

"I shouldn't leave this in my car," something told me, speaking of the money.

I think it was my conscience speaking. So I put it in my purse (the money, not my conscience).

Now it's in South Bend.

It's enjoying the break.

Thoughts on Exercise. . .

as received from a friend at work who forwarded them to me in an email today. I don't know who wrote them but if I did, I would certainly give that clever person credit right here. Since I can't give proper acknowledgement, let me at least share them with my loser family, especially those who haven't done much exercising in recent history but are readying themselves for Weigh-In #3 this weekend.

You know who you are.

"Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my daughter (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My daughter seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

MONDAY: Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a goddess - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring! Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!

TUESDAY: I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air. Then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY: The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the heck would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other crap too.

THURSDAY: Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed and her thin, cruel lips pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. She sent another skinny witch to find me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

FRIDAY: I hate Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Perky, skinny, anemic, anorexic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And, if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me those stupid barbells. Or anything else that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach?

SATURDAY: Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner. And I would have, but I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote so I ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY: I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank God that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my daughter (the little brat) will choose a gift for me that is fun --like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!"

And here, Stimpsons, are the Biggest Loser stats (of those reporting) going into the weekend:

1st place weight loss, women: Nicea (-4), Shawn (-4)

1st place weight loss, men: Kevin (-6)
2nd place weight loss, men: Banana Hammock (-4)

1st place points, women: Jaime Escalante (110)
2nd place points, women: Jana Brookes (85), Princess Consuela (85)

1st place points, men: Kevin (114)
2nd place points, men: no contest (Banana Hammock thinks his total is 700. Ha! Somebody give this boy a reality check, will ya?)

NEW POST

That's all this is. A take-up-the-space post so the old bra one doesn't have first billing any more. Nothing more, nothing less.

I have nothing more to say on the subject of bras. And I sense that the same is true of you.

In fact, I left the old post up long enough for your comments, but since you had nothing whatsoever to say about underwear, well . . . it's okay. I don't blame you.

I blame Oprah.

The saleslady at the store where I bought that particular bra (before it had developed dimples)told me that Oprah had put said bra on the map.

I was smitten by its celebrity.

But I should have known it would fit me differently than it would fit a map.

So, goodbye to the old post. Goodbye to the dimpled underpinning.

Goodbye forever.

Love,
Neecher the Teecher

Why My Bra Has Dimples

Sometime during approximately the third week, perhaps even as specifically as the third day of the third week, of my participation in my school's Biggest Loser contest, I noticed something I hadn't noticed before. Yes, my pants weren't quite as snug. Yes, I was feeling a little more energetic without all the sugar in my system. Yes, I was pretty proud of myself for sticking to the program for this long. And yes, I had lost a few pounds. But to the naked eye none of this was even visible to anyone.

I said to myself, "This isn't even visible to anyone."

But, oh, did my heart sink when I changed into my p.j.s one night and noticed what WAS visible to the naked eye.

Dimples.

In the padding of my bra. What once was convex is now concave.

That's not the region I had in mind when I decided to shed some pounds. (Not that I really care.)

It's just that I don't think it's right.

Pay It Forward

"The first 3 people to leave a comment on this post will receive a handmade (or possibly store-bought) gift from me during this year. When and what will be a surprise. There's a small catch though: you have to post this same thing on your own blog and then come back and leave a comment telling me you're in. Remember, only the first 3 comments receive the gift!