The Versatile Blogger Award

I would like to thank whomever thought of this award, and for giving a kid from a West suburban, upper-middle class background a chance! I don’t know where I’d be without a stable family, a good education and the opportunities awarded to someone of my class.

Today, I sit at my MacBook Pro before my two cats, a messy apartment, “The Town” showing on HBO for the gazillionth time, a winner of the Versatile Blogger Award. Who is responsible for bestowing this honor upon McCrabass? Why it’s none other than the fabulous Sandra who writes the faboo blog, She Can’t Be Serious.  This also means that someone chose my blog as one of their 15 featured blogs. My mission, along with walking the Earth and ridding it all things bad with my Ouiser Boudreaux wisdom, is to pay it forward by honoring 15 blogs I find to be apex of awesome.

During my tenure as an award recipient, I must agree to the following conditions:

1) Thank the person who gave me this award and link them back to their post.

2) Share 7 things about myself.

3) Pass this award along to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know about it!

First, about McCrabass..

1) I worked in Hollywood for a long time in post-production. I actually worked in the field I got my degree it–a first for many and very rare in this day and age. I left because I got tired of being treated like crap by a handful of people who had all the power–undeserved power. Being yelled at by someone because their Starbuck’s wasn’t foamy enough is a big bowl of wrong. I don’t care how many men you blew to get your job.

2) I’ve had the chicken pox twice, and have been bitten by a Black Widow Spider once.

3) When I say no, I mean it.

4) Contrary to what the public seems to think, I don’t think clipped cat hair would make a good sweater.

5) I could watch “Godfather Pts I & II” over and over again. Same with “Just Wright.” Somewhere between those three choices is sanity.

6) The most unusual job I ever had was editing porn.

7) If you tell my parents about #6, I’ll have to hunt you down and cover you in cock rings.

Now, for the blogs I dig and are now also worthy recipients of the Versatile Blogger Award. Some are funny, some more serious, but they’re all worth a look. Please check them out–I know you’ll find something within them you enjoy. If not, you’re dead inside.

Geneva Daily Photo

Squathole 

If Weather Was a Dick, It’d be …

Candy Coated Rose Petals

Office Crap

Tortoise off On a Wild Hare!

Robert Loerzel 

Samalamadingdong

Poorly Dressed People 

Lame Adventures

Sally Duros

Throw Grammar From the Train

What’s With *Today* Today

Bindy Fry’s Itty Bitty Brain Basket

MarkCz

I’ll probably add more over the next few days. Until then, please read them. Hell, even subscribe to them. They’re worth it. Trust me!

To the Core

It’s been a while since I’ve done Bikram. Freelance work has kept me away from everything except the newsroom and regular household/life duties. Today I went back and while it was good to be back, it wasn’t good to be back. I felt old, out of shape, stiff, clumsy, beat up, and grody. These feelings brought tears to my eyes during the standing series–a common reaction for yoga practitioners. I couldn’t let go of these feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing due to my lack of fitness and mental anguish over my professional life (or lack thereof).

I managed to push on through and have the best session I could have today. This was accomplished by sitting out some of the poses and letting the energy of the room flow over me. Yes, you read that last bit correctly–hardass McCrabass actually allowed the energy of others pierce her dark, disturbed, bitch-filled core. What’s even more shocking is that it felt pretty damn good. I just let it go–the energy came in and the tears came tumbling down. It’s tough to be vulnerable like that and I don’t care for it at all. But, vulnerability has its charms and a purpose, or purposes. I have an idea as to what they are, but I want to experience them first before I expound on them further.

Until then, let’s talk about core strength. I am in desperate need of restructuring/retrofitting mine. As a result, I’ve been researching core strengthening exercises and the most effective one I’ve come across is The Plank.  Sure it looks easy, but it ain’t. I figured I need to mix it up a titch more, and noticed that my friend Shannon had posted a series of plank exercises on her Google+ page. Damn. I figure if I do these exercises 4-5 times a week plus Bikram 4-5 times a week as well, my core will be in passable shape by mid-October.  Why mid-October you ask? Because I signed up for a clinic at Bikram Yoga Andersonville with Mary Jarvis in October, and I don’t care to look like an Rush Limbaugh-esque fat idiot (redundant I know)  in front a Bikram legend.

Next on the list? Researching docs who will surgically wire my jaw shut so I can’t eat. Stay tuned.

Oh the things I’ve learned …

Backbends. We’ve all done them, or attempted to. I’ve always viewed backbends as a gymnastics or yoga move. It never crossed my mind that it could be used as a stripper move. Sure, call me naive about backbends it doesn’t bother me in the least. I don’t have a problem with it since backbends are only on my mind when I’m doing yoga. They don’t penetrate my noggin during every day activities like watching commercials about cheese slices or wondering how my life would’ve turned out had I been named Tiffani.

I tend to pay attention to something as benign as backbends when they’re used in a raunchy manner. You’re surprised? Really? Time to start paying attention if you are OR do some McCrabass homework.

Back to backbends.

“Bridezillas” lured me in. I haven’t watched this show in a while because I think a lot of it is scripted. I find it hard to believe that some women can be so cunty, but they get a free honeymoon out of it at some sleazoid Jamaican resort, so there’s the motivation I guess. This one particular episode featured a risqué (read sleazy) bachelorette party complete with a beautifully sculpted and well-endowed male stripper. Strippers don’t bug me either. If they can figure out a way to slide up and down a pole and do squats in 5-inch lucite heels whilst exposing their coochie in front toothless truckers from Moline for money, then more power to ’em. If your peen can earn you cold, hard cash and you don’t have to turn tricks for said cash then you win. You’ve beaten the system, so to speak.

I’ve attended a few bachelorette parties in my relatively tame life, and they’ve run the gamut from going to dinner at a nice LA restaurant to an all-out, tongue-in-the-stripper’s g-string hootenanny. Don’t ask. However, I’ve never seen one like the one featured on this episode. Words can’t describe and I hope he was tipped well for swingin’ his schwantz around.

NEXT!

Time to take an ice bath.

What is the motivation behind a town’s name? I’m flummoxed by town names like Rolling Meadows, Illinois, Fresno, Cali and Anaconda, Montana. These town names make more sense to me. Although, Ding Dong could be interpreted in many ways.

If you’ve been paying attention to this post, you get it.

Corey Hart will haunt my dreams

For some reason, I heard this song on the way to Bikram this morning, and on the way home. This worries me — makes me wonder that maybe there’s some sort of disconnect in the universe. Who knows. However, knowing how things are with me lately, I’m sure I’ll have some sort of Ambien-induced, weird dream about Corey Hart, a bucket of fried chicken, a sear-sucker suit, pine needles and some dude named Hoke. Great — now I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight.

Class was off today. I couldn’t get it right, wasn’t feelin’ it. Half Moon really hurts the bejeebus out of my shoulder. I didn’t push as hard as usual because the pain was causing me to wince which, in turn, was causing me to hold my breath. It didn’t help seeing my “Hi Janes” in the mirror. Fortunately, neither my arms nor my hair look as bad as what’s featured in the picture, but you get the idea. Plus, that necklace is U.G.L.Y. If I’m not careful, this is gonna be me in about 5 years.

A young women directly in front of me had THE best tat on her lower back. It was of Shakespeare all hip-hopped up. I can’t find any images to do it justice. Wait, I could, but I’m too damn lazy. Tats are de rigueur in Bikram. I feel so out-of-place because I don’t have an “Om” or something else written in Sanskrit splayed on my inner-thigh, or winding up my spinal column (because you know that felt fucking good — I just hope those broads were drunk/passed out when they were getting stamped). Actually, I’ve considered getting a tat for a long time now. I go back and forth on it, but I don’t think my family would appreciate their likeness inked across my ass. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.

And, now that I’ve added a tattooed image of yours truly to your mental Rolodex, I will sign off for the day. Ciao, Monkehs.