I love coffee. Sometimes people try to switch my coffee to decaf when I’m not looking. I can always tell the difference. I also like Pringles, but only the reduced fat kind because they crunch better when you bite into them and they don’t leave grease on your fingers. I’m…

About Me

As part of our quest to support women’s issues, Katana Photography is excited to announce our first ever Celebrating Survival contest!
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Last week, Sean and I had our morning coffee on the balcony and watched as the Enterprise shuttle was pulled down the Hudson on a tug boat. It’s on its way to the Intrepid and I can’t wait to see it up close at the museum!

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Chocolate on the Treadmill

Who would like to go ice-skating in Hell with me? Anyone? Bueller?

Well, it’s official. Hell has frozen over and I, Colleen, have a boyfriend. This girl is officially OFF THE MARKET.

So, the boy, Sean, just moved to New York from Los Angeles to be with me. And things have been going great. It’s like we’re in this ethereal bubble of love and happiness. People stare at us, wanting to vomit, jealousy oozing from all orifices as we walk down the street hand in hand, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Last night, our love bubble popped. The stress of two people living under the same 600 square foot roof (and a dog…soon to be two dogs once we bring his back with us after Thanksgiving) became too much.

I came home from work, tired, achy, and cranky. I’m not an avid exerciser, but Sean is. For this reason, I joined the local gym so that we could bond over having rock hard abs and pecs that could poke your eyes out. I had been going 4 times a week, approximately; two work nights and on the weekends. My body has never been more sore. It’s as though the devil himself reached his fiery little hands through my skin and ripped apart each quad, each bicep, each tricep, each hamstring, each calf…you get the picture. By the middle of this week, I could barely move, let alone work out. The simple act of laughing caused so much pain that if I even got the impression someone at my office was about to tell a joke, I would just turn and walk away. So anyway, I got home from work, and on my way picked up paper towels and some Halloween candy that was on sale. I was so excited about the M&M’s and Reese’s Cups I bought. I hadn’t even seen chocolate in two weeks let alone eaten any and it sat in the plastic bag I carried with an aura of light surrounding it.

I got home, placed the bags on the counter and he immediately saw the candy, diffusing the flame of excitement that burned within me. Here’s how the conversation went:

Him: Candy?
Me: Not just candy–but Reese’s!
Him: Great.
Me: What? It was on sale.
Him: Do you KNOW how much sugar is in that?
Me: No. Is it enough to make YOU sweeter. If so, you should eat some pronto.
Him: I’m being serious.
Me: So am I.
Him: We have enough sweets in the house.
Me: Such as? Because the sweetest thing I’ve had these past two weeks is yogurt with fruit.
Him: There’s a lot of sugar in some fruits.
Me: Yeah, in Delusionalville where you currently reside.
Him: And you have honey mustard. That has a ton of sugar.
Me: It’s not like I pour the honey mustard directly into my mouth and drink it–a tiny bit goes on my sandwiches. HEALTHY sandwiches.
Him: It’s still a lot of sugar.
(I take a bite of the Reese’s cup. By his horrified face, this is apparently the equivalent to making out with a stranger at a bar right in front of him)
Me: Mmmm, this is SO good. I can just hear that sugar being stored as fat cells.
Him: You’re not funny.
Me: Yes I am. Maybe not in Delusionalville where you currently reside.
Him: You used that joke already.
Me: But you didn’t laugh. I thought I’d try it again.
Him: Nope, still not funny.
Me: Are you sure? Cause it may be–outside of Delusional–
Him: Stop! So, are we going to the gym tonight?
Me: Seriously?
Him: Well, I’m going.
Me: I’m only going if I can bring the bag of M&M’s.
Me: Then I’m not going. And I’ll eat them here. On the couch. And I’ll purposefully drop one on your side so that it melts tonight while you’re watching tv. So what is it? M&M’s on the treadmill or M&M’s on the couch?
Him: The gym. But we’re walking in seperately and I’m pretending I don’t know you.
Me: (under my breath) Good luck with that.

2 Responses to “Chocolate on the Treadmill”

  1. Colleen_Katana Says:

    This is SEAN using your name and login…and your story is totally fictional…other than the fact that you bought a ton of useless, post Halloween junk food and only worked out TWICE that week. And it’s totally a fact that honeymustard is loaded with sugar. And your comments aren’t.

  2. Merry Jelinek Says:

    I almost feel bad commenting here, like I’m in the middle of a lover’s squabble and should be whistling softly while looking at non-existent objects of interest in the surrounding area…

    Sigh… Hope it works out, you two, though seriously, Sean, it’s nice to meet you, but if my husband ever tried to tell me what I could eat and how often I had to work out, well, let’s just say he wouldn’t like the response.

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