ELLA, SLEEP & THE BLASTED SPIDER!

As a sleep connoisseur (yes connoisseur!) I become impassioned when talking about it, thinking about it and falling into it.
     For me there is no larger offense than something deliberately setting out to interfere with my ability to enjoy a good night's sleep.
     Grateful that I am no longer subject to random police sirens or drunken fellow students stumbling in at 3am, I now have other, more ridiculous sleep disturbers that I have not yet figured out how to handle.
     So I was climbing into my bed one night and getting ready to turn off the light, when I spotted the wrong end of a very leggy spider on my ceiling – directly above my face!
     Now how on Earth was I supposed to fall asleep knowing that a creepy crawlie, who was already upside down above me, could trip and fall straight into my hair?
     See I have zero tolerance for trespassers at the best of times so this is how the predictable game of Ella & the spider begins every single time:

     * Ella finds a glass

     * Spider doesn't move
     * Ella climbs on the bed
     * Spider senses an attack and starts moving really quickly
     * Ella screams
     * Spider hides
     * Ella waits for spider to re-emerge
     * Spider does not re-emerge
     * Ella loses three precious hours of potential sleep

Not good!

     It annoys me even more that every spider (except for tarantulas) has a misguided notion that because I am bigger, I want to hurt it – rest assured spiders that this is simply not true!
     If I reached for that shoe and took a swing at you, cleaning your blood splats off my walls will be my responsibility, which is something I don’t want!
     So how about you just stay out of my room okay?

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

WOMEN, DIETS & MONDAY!

I once had a friend named GG who was always on a diet and never failed to let everyone who would listen know about it.
     GG would start a diet every Monday morning without fail and be making excuses as to why she could no longer continue by Wednesday evening... at Happy Hour while insisting we add appetizers to our drink orders!
     By Sunday evening GG would be back in “diet mode”.
     Having binged on pizza and cake - that she claimed wouldn't come near her for at least two months, but we all knew she would be unashamedly scoffing by Thursday evening - GG would suddenly be motivated to devoting her stomach to Wheat grass and Kale come Monday morning.
     This woman had a knack for finding the most ridiculous “get thin quick” schemes known to man, most of which I believe were conjured up by bored journalists somewhere.
     Why would anyone think it is a good idea to live on tasteless, watery cabbage soup for a week?
     Which I only lasted three hours on before sneaking a piece of chicken when she wasn't looking, not to mention that stupid Maple Syrup nonsense!
     And the Snickers diet (yes, the candy bar) and of course the rice, beans and coffee...?
     Oh, what I let her talk me into.
     Anyway, I started thinking about GG when I came to a cruel realization of my very own: clothes don't lie!
     And when the only thing that fits is a pair of stretch pants that I still have to fight my way into, there is no denying that like millions of gut-suckers before me it is time to put down that dessert fork and pick up the salad one.
     Rabbit food, here I come!

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com

BIKINIS vs. ONE PIECE SUITS!

So the weather is getting warmer in Las Vegas (which I love) but this unfortunately, brings its own set of distressing opportunities such as invitations to pool parties (which I don’t love).
     The last time I went to a pool party, I remember feeling like a lump in my (fully clothed) shorts & t-shirt, trying to maintain conversation with half-naked beautiful people who had not a roll of excess fat in sight, asking me why I was fully clothed – cheek!
     I am not yet 30 years old and apparently it is an offense to even look at a one-piece bathing suit these days.
     I found this out when I strolled into a store and picked out a pretty looking polka dot one piece bathing suit to try on.
     When I found a stray assistant with a toothy grin to show me the dressing rooms, she immediately backed away when she spotted the one piece bathing suit like she didn’t want to get contaminated or something.
     Seriously, what was that about?
     Why is everyone so obsessed with bikinis all of a sudden?
     What happened to the one piece high leg that Pamela Anderson made famous in Baywatch during the 1990's?
     (Stick me in a black one of those babies and I could probably bring it back… alright stop laughing!)
     There is no doubt that a bikini looks great on those that enjoy creating hostile environments for fat cells, but for those of us that sweat uncomfortably just thinking about core workouts, how can being ridiculed at the pools for daring not to expose muffin-tops & midriffs be avoided?
     Oh forget it, don’t even answer that question!

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

WAL*MART TO FOREIGNERS

There's a wonderful place called WAL*MART.
     A huge (square footage of) land where all your dreams (including the bed... well, almost) come true.
     Where interesting fairy-like people dressed in blue or green vests, t-shirts or aprons attend to your every need (“hi, welcome to WAL*MART”).
     A place that houses so much indulgence under one roof, folks have tried to get locked inside... until they realized that it was open 24 hours.
     Now, to Americans this airy-fairy version of WAL*MART is probably a load of nonsense, especially to those that like to spend their Monday mornings holding up protest signs outside and scowling disapprovingly as one walks or drives in.
     I'm from England you see and we don't have much in the way of indulgence warehouses and foreigners like me can always be spotted in grocery stores by that unmistakable “gang of lost souls” look we all wear after the first step inside.
     Please be patient though when you see one at your local store either:

          * Wondering around in a daze, heading in no specific direction.

          * Stopped smack dab in the middle of the freezer aisle, mesmerized by the huge tubs of ice cream.
          * Carefully examining the oversize packets of everything from potato chips to milk, trying to figure out if there really is that much in there or just exaggerated packaging.

You see, I used to be a member of this ridiculous drool brigade... alright I still am but I have gotten smart about it by tagging along to someone who is immune to the trap that only WAL*MART virgins fall into.

     Going to WAL*MART for foreigners is like trying to explain what the Blue Man Group is actually about:

     You can't, you simply have to experience it!

Ella Roberts,

www.ellaswit.blogspot.com

 

WEDDING DREAMS - DREAM WEDDINGS

I went to a bridal show!
     I know.  I had to.  It's my job to cover these things...
     So, bridal shows – or anything that has to do with weddings – always somehow end up being a mess of teeth shaving sweetness that would give anyone a severe sugar crash if it could actually be eaten.
     It always amazes me how fully grown women who are otherwise ball busters at work melt into cooing poultry types at the sight of a wedding gown.
     I particularly love the statement: “I've been dreaming about this since I was a little girl”, which is incredibly ridiculous of course because:

     1. A five year old girl should not be dreaming about becoming a wife; she should be appreciating that her life is still financially and worry free!
     2. A five year old girl should not be aware that being a sixteen year old girlfriend is hard work enough, let alone jumping way ahead of herself and yearning for the option that costs the most money to get in and out of.

Don't get me wrong I love weddings, as long as there's food... and a bride and groom who understand the basics: you two pay for the wedding and I, the guest pay to furnish your new digs.
     Not I, the guest bring you gifts and still have to pay to feed myself at your wedding.
     Cheek!

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

DVD? GYM? TRAINER? 2

CONTINUED FROM: DVD?  GYM?  TRAINER?  1

 
We've all sighted (and tried to avoid) those personal trainer types who loiter outside health food stores, scowling judgmentally as one glides guiltily into an adjacent fast food joint for a post-burn burger and shake (since they each look like they've never tasted a donut in their lives, I choose to interpret these glares as envy).
     A friend of a friend's ex-girlfriend's cousin decided to hire a trainer because he was getting married and didn't want to look tubby in his tux, so his housekeeper's forth husband's uncle recommended a trainer he had been using.
     When trainer lady found out the dude's finance had a bigger gut than he did, she offered a 21% discount for 24 sessions.
     On day one the stick and balls went to the park where she put them to work so hard they temporarily forgot what breathing silently felt like.
     Both men felt burns in places they had long lost touch with but neither would allow themselves to cry in front of a girl.
     Deciding to tough it out turned out to be a mistake when their lower limbs gave way and she forced them up by yelling and helping them lose their desire to get married.
     Mad at each other, the two beaus decided that she (devil) was not the right match for them; they preferred Zumba.
     And although they'd paid for 24 sessions, they called to tell her not to return.
     Next morning she turned up at their house and didn't leave until they'd completed their 24 sessions and hated women even more!
     Both men collectively lost 62lbs and out of fear respect for Personal Trainer Lady (even though they never saw her again), neither man dared to put the weight back on.
     I ask you again: DVDs? Gym? Trainer?

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com