If you can't trust a sister, who CAN you trust?

May I, just for a moment, discuss the depravity of a certain younger sister of mine? We're talking about the workings of a criminal mind here. Absolute corruption for one so young. It was Monday night and I was up late working on a Sudoku puzzle when it hit me: Burger King. Now. I'd had a bowl of cereal for dinner and it did not satisfy. But I was already in my PJs and did not want to venture out into the night all by my lonesome. So I shamelessly bribed my little sister to go in my stead. "If I give you some money will you go get me a little something from B.K.? I'll let you have one or two dollars to get something for yourself..." She agreed. 

I didn't want anything big--a Whopper Jr. with cheese would suffice. This certain sister then walks into our living room with a $5 bill from my wallet in her fist and announces her departure, asking me what I would like. I tell her. She complains if I order that then she won't have enough for what she wants. Fine. I tell her I'll only get a small fry and hamburger from the dollar menu. Satisfied, she leaves. 

When she returns she hands my order from the bag and removes hers: a small fry. I ask if there was any change and she says there was, but she needs to get it. I wait patiently and she hands me a dollar and some odd change. Sounds about right for what she'd ordered. Right? WRONG. 

The next day I notice that not only is a $5 bill missing from my wallet, but 3 $1 bills. Hmmm. That's odd. I text my sister, asking if she ended up taking more from my wallet than she intended. She says she might have taken an extra dollar to cover tax but that she gave it back to me. She INSISTS this is what happened. 

Okay. Today I get the real story. And it should give you a good idea of the kind of person we're dealing with. She takes the 5 from my wallet, this I knew. However, she returns to my wallet right before she leaves and removes another 2 dollars. Her conscience is clear. When she told me how much money she'd taken from the wallet it was still only $5. A-ha. All the while she'll have me believe I can only spend $2 of my own money because if I spend more there won't be enough for her. So, she spends just over $7 at the drive-thru. I got exactly what I ordered and she took the liberty to spend what was left. Afterall, I did tell her she could right? So when she comes home with the goods, she sneakily conceals the remaining contents of the bag, handing me what was mine and innocently removing her sad little small fry to give me the impression that that was all she'd purchased. 

Oh, she's good. But that's not even the best part! Remember when I asked her for the change, she left the room to "go and get it?" Where do you think that non-existent dollar in change came from? She simply went back to my wallet and pulled out ANOTHER dollar. She put that very dollar in my hand, removed a bunch of change from her pocket and that was that. So, $8.00 later I'm still wondering why on earth I was only allowed to spend $2 of my own money?!

When in DOUBT...

Apparently I'm averaging only one post every month. This will not do. My 2 previous entries have been very ambitious. In a word: wordy. So to ensure that I don't get overwhelmed and cranky at the thought of posting, I'm going to try to keep it short. Short and sweet. The other night I went to Redbox looking for "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs," but they didn't have it. Boo... So I settled on "When In Rome." Not exactly what I wanted, but I was willing to try it. I wasn't about to turn down anything that starred Josh Duhamel! So I rented the movie, settled in, and prepared to be swept away by some romantic comedy awesome-ness! But the awesome-ness ever came. Only 10 minutes in and I wanted to turn it off, but I had paid one WHOLE dollar so I figured I'd give it a chance to redeem itself. But redemption wouldn't come either. 20 minutes in, I gave up. And I never give up on movies! Not unless it's horribly offensive! This one did offend my comedic sensibilities, though. Just not funny. And Kristen Bell (who was apparently amazing on "Veronica Mars") didn't impress as a leading lady. I think romantic comedy, I think... Sandra Bullock! I think... Reese Witherspoon! I think... Drew Barrymore! I think... Meg Ryan!... PRE-botox! 

 In my lofty opinion, a movie either has to be so ridiculous that it's fanciful or so real that it's believable. Not even Josh with his tall-drink-of-water good looks was incentive enough for me to finish this movie! And the worst part is that I put the movie in my purse to return it and now I can't find it anywhere. Looks like I may be BUYING a movie I have no intention of ever watching again. A movie I couldn't even finish the first time! Double BOO...

"Do you work out?"

Ah, the gym. There is a local establishment I frequent (perhaps not as often as I should) where I enjoy physically exerting myself via eliptical machine, free-weights, and occasionally the dreaded stair-climber. I may even follow-up my routine with a walk/jog around an indoor jogging track. Oh yes. When I'm there, I'm ALL business. I turn on the 80s playlist on my iPod, plug in, and suddenly, I'm in the zone...the "Danger Zone." Nobody in that gym matters more than me. By the end of my work-out I resemble what could only be described as a sweaty purple eggplant. It may not be pretty, but I'm not there to impress anyone (Little Miss Blondie-in-the-Barely-There-Hot-Pink-Shorts, I'm talking to you!), nor am I there to manage my social networks like the lady on the eliptical machine next to me who interrupts her workout every 30 seconds to message on her Blackberry with the incessant tap-tap-tapping of french-tip acrylic nails. No, no. I prefer to remain as anonymous as possible.

However...

Since this is a local Temple of Fitness, one can't avoid the inevitable meeting of familiar faces. This has happened to me a time or two...or three. In such situations, I try not to engage the second party and will usually resort to a friendly smile and short "Hi" or wave, preferrably from the other side of the room. I do have my tactics for navigating around these potentially socially awkward predicaments. If I spot someone I know, I distance myself from them under the pretense of switching up my routine. Like, I'll suddenly need to stop doing bicep curls so I can hop on the treadmill. OR I'll simply ignore their presence by suddenly becoming very involved in what I'm doing, like "My! The dashboard on this stair-climber is fascinating! Look at all the buttons! I could stare at it for hours!" Juvenile? Yes. Paranoid? Yes. Necessary? YES. And let me tell you why...

You might say I'm a little insecure. And one evening, after I had pushed myself particularly hard during a little jaunt on the eliptical, I shakily made my way to the next leg of my workout-the weights. Now, even after cooling down a bit, my breathing was still pretty heavy and my face had adopted a rather unhealthy-looking color. And forget the sweat. Gross. I was also still a little disoriented. You step off one of those things and your mind is still moving in rhythmic circles, keeping time with with the pulse of "Billie Jean" blasting in your ears. Maybe that's why I didn't see it coming. All I know is that as I rounded the corner, I let my guard down and made the mistake of glancing up just in time to hear someone standing in my peripheral say my name. Abort, abort! But you can't abort. You're stuck. "Oh, heeeeeyyy..." I had happened upon a friend from school. Of the male variety. Of the POPULAR male variety.

There I stood...dazed, panting, sweaty, maroon; trying to both form complete sentences and ignore the horrifying mental image of myself that kept flashing before me. I don't remember the particulars of the conversation that well. I probably cracked a joke here, reminisced a little there. Undoubtedly it was pretty awkward. After the initial humiliation of such a meeting, one walks away with a sense of relief and...something else. Suddenly, the pressure builds. Like because I was caught exercising (GASP!) I had better look pretty darn awesome by the time I see this individual again. Maybe not "Yeah, I'm ready to compete in a triathlon" awesome, but at least "Look, I actually made a difference" awesome. Yeesh. By that point, I had forgotten about the weights completely and casually made for the jogging track upstairs where I ran circles round a bunch of elderly ladies and gents from the retirement facility next door. That did a lot for my confidence! Okay. Not really.

Here is a list of rules I think my gym should adopt. And most of them seem pretty reasonable. Maybe.

NO cell phones (This is already a rule, but apparently it bears repeating!)
NO mirrors (They have mirrors everywhere! I really don't want to be confronted by myself from ever angle.)
NO socializing whatsoever. Period. (Please, just leave me alone!)
aaaaaannnnddd...
NO revealing outfits (Especially if they don't fit properly.  We're in an air-conditioned facility, there's no reason to exercise in your underwear!)