Mid-Week Weekend Recap OR Unoriginal Post Title

For those of you that believe that there isn't anything fun and different to do in Kansas City, I beg to differ. My weekend offered up a wide variety of activities (BONUS: ALL included booze) and exposure to new people.

For example, Friday I had the extreme privilege to mix and mingle with only the best scuzz Johnson County has to offer at The Roxie (75th & Metcalf). For a small cover ($5, which we got back since the band gave them "their list" later. Have you ever asked for a refund on your cover? Well, let me tell you - it's awkward, but I'm not above it) we enjoyed the drinks and the band. I even did a couple "slut laps" for fun. Ok I lied, I did the slut laps because I'm desperate.

Then the dancing bug bit. And if you're in Overland Park and you're wanting to bust a move, there is only one place to go: Touche's. This fine bar/lounge has a nice dance floor and Newcastle, which, in my book, makes any evening magical, but throw in the "touch of class" that Touche's has (seriously, that's their motto) and you're ready to rock! But you can't rock too hard, other wise someone may break a hip. The average age for a Touche patron is about 45. Give or give about 10 years. But this superficial fact doesn't stop ladies from wearing short, short mini-skirts, sequined halter tops and 4 pounds of makeup. But then again, Zsa Zsa Gabor was their role model. And this isn't saying that the men are any better off. Nooo, sir. I wasn't quite able to discern whether or not the peculiar odor was Old Spice that had expired well before I was born or a "Depends" that had done the same.

My friends and I all had a great time; dancing, drinking and making fun of old people really do make a great Friday night.

Bookending my weekend was a small private "concert" held at someones house Sunday night. A friend is in a band and they wanted to perform some pieces that the 6 of them had been working on. Now I finally know the answer to "What do you get when you put a bass, a violin, a trumpet, a bassoon, 2 clarinets, 2 saxophones and a flute together for a Bjork arrangement?" The answer? "A pretty sweet tune." The beer and wine were flowing freely and it turns out that I knew the host of the party from WAY back... it's a small world.

Kansas City, I love thee. Now stop being such a frigid bitch.

Iran So Far Away

I received an interesting proposition this morning from my cousin, Ali; "Come to Iran with me for a couple of months. I leave at the end of February!"

What strikes me as interesting is that I am actually considering going! Now granted, I'd have to go-go-speed-racer to get everything in order in such short notice, but, honestly why should I NOT I go? Political unrest? Language barriers? Sacrificing certain rights and liberties?

All of those reasons fall short to the one reason why I must go: I would be adored! I have aunts & uncles & cousins & great aunts and uncles & 2nd and 3rd cousins that I've never met (Shoot, I don't even know all their names!) and they want to me meet! And why not, I am the lovable daughter of the Matriarch's first born son. This is the closest I am ever going to get to living out a real life fairy tale. Granted, this fairy tell involves wearing a head dress out in public and walking at least 10 feet behind the men... but still, I've heard rumors that they will make me fresh squeezed orange juice every morning! Fresh squeezed! And I am fairly confident that their joke of having an arranged marriage in place for me is just that... a joke. I think.

Reason number "Doe" (That's "2" to all you non-Farsi speakers) is I would be there for the New Years, which falls on the spring equinox. This won't impress you until I tell you that their "New Years celebration" last 13 days. That's right, 13 days of parties, food, drinking, dancing and, oh yeah, PRESENTS! That is 13 more days of presents than the American New Years. Though, sadly, no Dick Clark Balls.

Now if I still haven't made a case for why I should ditch the States for a month or so, let me tell you this: Iranians women go to great lengths to looks American. They "reverse-tan" to make their skin lighter. I'm not sure what this involves - just like I have no clue how "Breast Implant" surgery works; obviously I need neither. I'm just saying....

So, in summation we got:

1. Adoration/Fresh Squeezed Orange Juice
2. 13 Days of presents
3. Pale skin is in!

I'm going to sleep on it and maybe watch "Not Without My Daughter" a couple of times.

Hadahafez!

Today is the First Day of the rest of my Blog

Here goes nothings.

I hope the two people reading this (Hi Shannan & Amy!) don't need me to introduce myself or explain my motives for starting this blog. But just in case someone stumbled across this page and hasn't hit the "back" button just yet - I am a 25 year old single lady (disclaimer: the word "lady" is used loosely around here) living in Kansas City.

And as far as my motive, writing a blog at work can look more like "actual work" than reading a blog at work. So, I guess it is just a strategy for me to be able to slack off even more at work. And yes, the concept of creating more work for myself while at work to avoid doing work escapes me.

So without further ado, let me tell you about my trip to the the gym last night.

I hate running. Really I do. I've gotten better at it over the past year (though improving over "running" at 3.0 mph for 15 seconds isn't that great of an accomplishment). However, with my new super-bra, I loathe the treadmill just a bit less...

The Ellipticals are a hot commodity as others hate running as much as I do, which is why they are usually all taken. Two nights ago I had to use a treadmill. There was the underwear fiasco* and the tripping-and-almost-falling-off incident. Other than that, I did a walk/run combination for 45 minutes (disclaimer: it was mostly walking). So you can see why I'd be pumped to get to the gym last night and, once again, find all Ellipticals taken. Resigned to my fate and convicted to my goal, I got on the treadmill. My M.O. is usually .25 mile walk, .25 mile run, .25 mile walk, .25 mile run etc... for 45 minutes. And I must say that I did an awesome job. I was having little to no difficulty running and I was able to do the whole 45 minutes in that pattern (because, honestly, most times on the treadmill is starts out in that pattern but usually ends of .43 mile walk, .07 run, .44 walk.. the rest: walk. About 1/3 of the way through, Hot Personal Trainer (HPT) got on the treadmill 2 down from me. I took this as a test of my focus and concentration. I knew that I had to block him out so I could focus on my goals, stay in the zone and concentrate on my breathing so mywork out would be more efficient, pull strength from the inside so that I could complete my workout strong.

I stared at him in the mirror during the rest of my run.

What else was I supposed to do?

*My underwear has gotten too big (due to, obviously, the weight loss) and usually my pants keep them in place, but last night I was wearing pants that were too big for me too, so as soon as I started running, my pants stayed in place (thankfully!) but my underwear fell down. Like, all the way off. I am pretty sure that anyone checking out my ass (which HAS to be every straight guy there, so that equals about none) would have thought that I had a poopy diaper.