Ronda Rousey (dot net!)

Currently reading: World Without End – Ken Follett
Currently listening to: Surf Wax America –Weezer

Okay I’m not actually sore to the point of amnesia, but I was aiming for dramatic. I started training with big jim up in his cabin in new Hampshire two days ago. I can tell he’s taking it easy on me right now, but I’m not gunna lie and say projectile vomiting didn’t enter my mind in the middle of the first workout.
Even Mochi (my dog) is sore, I could tell cause I had to drag her with the leash over my shoulder during sprints on the 2nd day of training.

I haven’t written in a while because me and my friend Lillie drove cross country from LA to Boston over 6 days. It was the most legendary series of misadventures ever. And we even took notes so we both could write about it. She’s e-mailing the notes to me, so the road trippin’ blogs are coming later.

As you could have guessed, the “on the road” diet was far from ideal. Mostly consisting of what we could buy from gas stations, and what we could order at truck stops at 3am. (though im not gunna lie and say the French toast and huevos rancheros weren’t g**damn delicious) In fact I’m pretty sure that during the first workout I saw a couple chunks of beef jerky coming out of my pores.
I’m serious, if Homer simpson came along and licked my arm he would have been like “Mmmm… beef jerky extract…”
and nooo, I didn’t mean that in a sick way, just a I-ate-too-much-beef-jerky-way.

I have no idea how truckers do it. I’ve had to start eating to amount of fiber blended into an old folks home’s cafeteria food to return my digestive system to its normal level of efficiency.

You know what’s funny, I’m reading this book that involves the bubonic plague; fell asleep reading it, and then dreamed about running away from diseased zombies. Well that doesn’t sound too funny until you get to the part where we all caught the disease by eating infected cold cut sandwiches. And the only way I could cure myself was by overdosing myself with the germs - which were contained in a bottle of bath and body works perfume scented like warm vanilla sugar.

I hope my ex boyfriend (or as I like to call him my “Sexy Exy”) doesn’t find and read this blog. I only mentioned in in passing weeks ago, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t stick. But I can’t guarentee her won’t internet stalk me and find it. Which I can’t really say I’ve never done to any of my exes. >_<
I kind of resent coming back to boston a little bit, because I had to break up with him to do it. I mean, if you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you’re aware that half of what I write is complaints about being single. Ugh… it just pisses me off. But whatever, not to be vain, but I consider myself to be a highly adaptable person. So I guess I’ll just have to adapt again.

“adapt and overcome”

I try to write that quote everywhere. Even if I forgot where it came from, it’s still very inspiring to me.

What kind of sucked about practice yesterday was I was totally pumped to back on the same mat where I’ve fought on-and-off since I was 16. But I got the distict impression my teammates were not too happy about the outcome of the world championships - Mostly because they were either grumpy, not that talkative, flying home, or eating ice cream. Well I hope everyone’s morale picks up sooner rather than later, cause I can tell when big jim has that “I’m gunna make you train so hard, that you won’t be able to move until Dorothy and the scarecrow come along with an oil can” look in his eyes. And some team spirit would definitely help.