A backpack with a footprint in it. I feel like my body has grown used to the protein shakes and pre-workout energizers and other related vanity potions I’ve been using since I started working with my trainer in July. So when an amateur bodybuilder friend told me about NO2, a supplement program that had given his training a dramatic boost, I spent a week researching it … and then spent a shit-ton of money to buy a cycle of the stuff. And the folks at GNC loaded me down with swag in appreciation. They gave me a huge pile of protein powder samples, a heart-monitor device and a really cool backpack. And when I got the backpack home and started digging through it to admire all its secret compartments, I found a dusty shoe print on the inside of one of its pockets. And while I don’t really care that I got a used free backpack, I am slightly concerned that I can’t get the footprint out of the backpack fabric.
Xanadu. We saw the fabulous Xanadu stage musical on Sunday, and I haven’t stopped singing the theme song all week. Or threatening to leave my husband for the guy playing Sonny Malone. But I hate to ruin a happy marriage, so I did the next best thing: I went on Amazon and bought the Xanadu Broadway cast recording. And since I think it’s a waste to order one thing from Amazon when I could easily order two, I also bought the Xanadu movie soundtrack. And since I think it’s a waste to order two things from Amazon when I could easily order three, I also bought …
A camera. Thanks to all the suggestions and recommendations from you fabulous people, I narrowed down my search and finally bought a shiny new silver-and-blue Canon PowerShot SD1100IS. It’s loaded with features! It fits in my pocket! It actually takes pictures! So now I can finally go on a cruise and come home with more than a sunburn to help me remember it.
Team shirts. I’m racing up the John Hancock Center stairs a week from Sunday. But while Hustle up the Hancock is a pretty cool event, its official shirts are, to put it charitably, lame. The palette is kind of feminine, the design is uninspiring and even the shirts themselves suck. They’re almost as wide as they are tall and they look good on exactly nobody. Luckily, we’re not expected to wear them in the race. Even luckilyier, I’m racing up the building with a team of co-workers. And one of our co-workers is a graphic designer. And he made us a logo. And I just ordered logo shirts for all of us … logo shirts that actually fit. And because our shirts won’t suck, we’re gonna be the kick-assest team next Sunday. See for yourself why all the other climbers will have no choice but to bow down and worship our awesomeness:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNlloZjbFL1Xx4OYYy18LY2-3JkthifCKiFjXF_1JsmSqt303x9gIpI3yGlq0B5z_T5_MsArf20wtydjsraiBA0qsUxyiD1LzDAKZ3Qq80Gd5AYbHHEvbuXyDJVMxbHaF-AEp/s400/Social_Climbers_rgb.jpg)
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