Sunday, November 27, 2011

Fat Girl on a Little Bike

The below happened and was written a few years ago...2006, I think?


Anyone who has been out of shape eventually gets the wake-up call that they're no longer a spring chicken.  My "holy crap!" moment came when my pal Russ invited me to tag along for a "critical mass" bike ride near downtown San Antonio, Texas. 

That evening, I headed over to Russ's house around 6.  He'd said they do this ride every Thursday, so I believed and trusted him completely on every little detail of what I should expect, including "it's an easy ride," "it won't be very hot since it's in the evening," and "I think there's one small hill, but it's easy."  

So we go downtown, I was outfitted with Russ daughter's helmet and bicycle, and I actually wore shorts in public.  He suggested that I ride the bike around in the parking lot for a little while to get used to it.  It was kinda scary!  I hadn't ridden a normal bike (as opposed to stationary) in about 7 years.

We finally mounted up at 7:30.  Russ said there were probably about 100 people riding.  Shortly after starting, I realized that Russ was leaving me behind, so I tried to catch up with him.  Well it was lots harder than I thought it would be!  So I finally just gave up and went at my own (embarrassingly slow) pace.  Kids were passing me, and I don't mean teenagers. I'm talking third graders, here.  

Then we hit a hill.  OhMyGod!  I downshifted, and it was still hard.  I didn't trust my balance enough to stand up on the pedals and use my weight, so it was pretty rough.  Then we stopped for a stoplight, THANK GOD, but we stopped right next to a roadkilled possum.  PEW!!  

So we turned the corner when the light changed and went up the Mother of All Hills.  I had to get off of the bike near the top and finish it.  After the hill, we rode a bit more, then we hit ANOTHER hill.  My legs were about to give out; I couldn't believe it!!  My legs were worse-off than my lungs or heart.  Ugh.  So I walked the second half of that hill.  And the bad thing is--I could barely even WALK up that hill!  OhMyGod!  It felt like I'd mysteriously teletransported to freaking San Francisco!  

When I reached the Trinity University campus, I found that Russ had stopped to wait for me.  I told Russ I wanted to throw in the towel, but he and a couple other people encouraged me, "Don't worry, that's the last hill."  So I followed Russ down this strangely LOOOOOOOOONG, winding ramp which he navigated--no problemo!  I tried braking, but it didn't work as well as I would've liked, so I put one foot down (witnesses later described it as "Flintstone style") and wound up CRASHING--on a handicap ramp! One would think a handicap ramp would be safe to roll down, yes?  

After carefully extracting my leg from the space between the torture device disguised as a handrail and the evil bicycle, I gingerly hobbled down to a picnic area and let myself down onto a bench.  There were people who had hung behind...much to my dismay.  Whenever I fall or do something otherwise stupid, I instinctively look around to see if anyone saw.  This time, someone definitely saw.

I guess they're really big into teamwork and safety, so a guy and a girl came over to the bench with me.  Russ had stopped at the bottom to wait for me, and I told him, "Come back to pick me up in the car later.  I can't go any farther!"  So I sat down, and this guy asked, "Are you ok?  How do you feel?"  I said, "I'm tired and dizzy and I'm beginning to see spots."  

Then he said, "Look directly at me."  So I did, and he said, "You have heat exhaustion.  Are you nauseated?"  Um, it was 95 degrees in the shade, I'd spent two full minutes huffing rotten possum fumes, I'd just biked/hiked more hills than I've ever cared to traverse without the help of a motor, and I'm embarrassed beyond belief.  Yes, I was nauseated!  So he went away and brought back a cute, teeny-bopper female lifeguard from the pool to see the carnage and a dripping wet towel which he had me put on my neck.  He told me to take off my shoes.  Then he very nicely lectured me about drinking enough water and eating enough before I ride.  

Anyway, they were really, really nice to me.  I kept telling them I was OK, just tired, and I'd be all right if I could just sit there and not have to ride ever again!  

The lifeguard (Colleen) said I could come sit with her at the pool to watch men's water polo practice and put my feet in the water 'til Russ came back with the car.  (Who was I to argue?!?  Sweet!) She told me that my lips were purple when she first brought out the towel for me, but after a while they turned pink again.  She also cleaned up my wound from my crash--puncture wounds at the bottom of my right calf from the gear thingie poking me.  It looks like it is deep enough that it will scar.  Joy!  Not that I wear shorts so often. 

OH!  And I RACKED myself on that bar that goes from the seat to the handlebars.  OW!  I've never been happier to be testicle-free!

The guy, girl and Russ all told me not to let the crash discourage me from coming out to the ride next week.  (Fat chance!) They said to drink tons of water all day Wednesday and Thursday so I'd be hydrated in time for the ride Thursday evening.  Once Russ brought the car back to the pool, he said that that guy who was asking all the questions was a cop who's also a paramedic.  Hey, free emergency health care!  Russ also said that if I hadn't improved quickly enough, that guy probably would've called an ambulance.  Uh, yeah--that's the LAST thing I need is medical bills!  They overreacted a little bit, but it was a good wakeup call for me that I am totally and completely out of shape.

© 2011 Deana Wallace

Monday, November 21, 2011

Dear Blogosphere...

Please vote for these guys!!

I told them I would vote for them and recruit as many votes as I could (minus booby pics), and they look like they'd have a blast in South America!

Please vote for them!

Note: I don't know them personally. I've met one of their friends once at an RPG meet-up. But they seem really cool and enthusiastic, and I want to see their vacation photos when they win the trip!

Cheers, all!

Onwards and upwards!

Potential Blog Topics

The affect of banana growth this season on the global economy." --Adam S.

"Transvestite skinheads and the cats who love them." --Keith C.

Privacy Concerns

I'm admittedly trying to step out of my comfort zone. Therefore, I'm using my real name here, relating real stories, and giving real opinions. This is a big change from my antidepressant-induced filtered content (read: just stuff I said verbally and on Facebook) of the past several years.

My theory is this: if you know what's going on with me, and I tell you firsthand, nobody can blackmail me. LOL No, I don't consider myself important enough (or rich enough!) to blackmail by any means. But really. I'm not going to pull a Jeremy Clarkson and post all my information online. But I don't deny that if anyone wanted to, they could probably glean enough information about me from the interwebs to srsly hurt me.

Well, that's life. Screw it. I have very little left. I don't know what kind of human being would try to put me into the gutter. That's a reflection on them, not on my "carelessness" with personal information. Anyway, I'm middle-aged and, at best, I have 50 years to go. Oh wait, that's a helluva long time!

Then again, carpe diem. I'm tired of living in obscurity and poverty. If my family (and...ahem...certain other entities--ok, I guess I'm not being completely open) wouldn't be outraged, I'd show you my tits! But don't mistake this for awfully deviant behavior. I lived in Europe for a while, and boobs are no big deal. I mean, really. How is it fair that guys get to go without shirts/tops at the beach and we don't? Do you wear a bra 24x7 at home? If so, heaven help you (so to speak).

So! All that being said, I may or may not write about bananas. But I am going upstairs for a while to try to take a better self-portrait for my LinkedIn profile. I need f***ing job, already.


© 2011 Deana Wallace

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Random Story About a Guy I Knew

I dated a guy once who didn't drink. He said it wasn't a problem that I liked to go to bars with my friends. This was quickly revealed to be a half-truth as his snide comments about alcohol consumption of any sort became more and more frequent. 

But that's not why I wrote him off. 

I was working shift-work at the time, and I gave him specific hours that I was available. Anything outside those hours meant that I was either at work or asleep, and sleep is very important to me as I am naturally low-energy. However, I was required to leave my phone ringer on at all times because I was on call. 

Who should call me one day while I was sleeping but this guy. I promptly, firmly, and courteously told him I'd been sleeping and would call him back later. He responded, "Sleep? Who needs sleep? You'll get all the sleep you need when you're dead!" 

I hung up on him, deleted his number from my phone, and never talked to him again. 

~The End~

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Reasons I Shave My Legs

Buy My Good Junk!

I'm selling anything I can rummage up that's in decent condition. Check out my Amazon Marketplace Storefront:

Friday, November 18, 2011


I've found that Dairy Queen tacos are far superior to Taco Bell tacos. I can't put my finger on why, but I think it has to do with that "pico sauce" stuff that TB uses. Bleh. It saddens me a little that the drunk/high college kids of America may never know the deliciousness of DQ tacos because in my travels I've found that DQ doesn't sell Mexican food at all locations. And why, why, why did it take so long to develop the multi-textured goodness of the double-decker taco? Those things are pure win in my book. If only DQ had a double-decker version...! Have you ever been to a San Antonio Missions game and seen the Henry's Puffy Tacos mascot? Sort of naughty!! It was probably the most entertaining thing about the entire experience. They really oughta trim up the lettuce at the very least. Off-topic a little: I really like watching sporting events live in person. But only if there's beer involved. It's basically a party where you're not expected to carry on a conversation. Right up my alley.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Accidental Intellectuals

One day on Okinawa, Cynthia and I decided to see a movie on Kadena.

Now, for those of you who don't know much about military theaters, they are not huge. There's only one screen, and they only play a few movies at a time, rotating them between time slots over a week or so.

We'd been out and about, probably window shopping off base or something. It was coming up on one of the showtimes, and one of us had read that Anger Management (Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson) was playing during that slot, so we headed to the theater.

We bought our tickets, went all the way through the lobby snack bar line, sat down, stood for the National Anthem, then settled in with our snacks. Of course, I'm sure we were non-stop chit-chatting the entire time.

The movie opened to someone sprinting down a long, straight highway in the middle of a desert. Bizarre. Hmm. We munched our popcorn and kept watching.

I think it was about 5 minutes into the movie that we realized we were not watching Anger Mangement. It turned out to be quite an interesting movie about the death penalty: The Life of David Gale (Kevin Spacey and Kate Winslet). Soooo not an Adam Sandler movie!

We had a good laugh at our scheduling fail and how we made it all the way past the beginning of the movie before realizing our mistake. We still laugh about it to this day. I think we both enjoyed the movie, though. I still haven't seen Anger Management and, in hindsight, I'm much happier to have watched this thought-provoking drama instead of a silly Billy Madison production. Good trade. :-)

© 2011 Deana Wallace
"Hmm...yes, quite."

The Usual Defects

It was a long, hot day out in the desert. There was plenty of water, but Cheeto was a spoiled woman who refused to consume anything so bland. Why had she agreed to come out to this godforsaken piece of Earth? Ah, the promise of unforgettable vistas. Screw that; she wanted her SoBe. "Can we please go back to the hotel? It is hotter than I thought it would be. I'd rather just buy the post card." "Sorry, ma'am; the other guests said they'll be ready in about an hour."

Derek was the tour guide. What was he doing here? He'd admitted earlier that he's from Maine. She could understand wanting to escape the harsh winters, but was this heat and this awful landscape, devoid of any vegetation save scrub brush, worth it?

Cheeto turned her glance toward her tour mates, happily trudging toward the next outcropping of rock. How could they be so content in this heat? They were fatter than she was, but they didn't seem to care that their corpulent figures oozed sweat, visibly drenching their cotton garments. "That's gonna chafe," she thought, eyeing the khaki shorts being devoured by the man's crotch with each step.

Suddenly, the man fell to the ground almost noiselessly, though his flesh vibrated upon impact. He'd twisted his ankle quite badly, and his wife was struggling to help him up. He winced. "Oh, darn. We'll have to go back to the hotel early to ice that ankle," Cheeto noted. Derek glanced at Cheeto as he rushed to help the man. It was obvious that he found her tedious; it was probably all he could do to help not rolling his eyes at her.

As Derek and Pat, the injured man's wife, hobbled Jim toward the van, Cheeto's mood had improved markedly. She cheerfully carried their cameras and backpacks.

The party of four arrived in the Denny's parking lot across from Cheeto's hotel. She was so happy to be back early that she darted across the street without looking both ways and was promptly plowed over by a bus. A crowd gathered and sirens were heard in the distance. Her last word: "SoBe..."

© 2011 Deana Wallace (really, if you use any part of this, you are a hack)