I apologize, but today’s post is just for me to read. I’ll have something for you in a few days most likely, but today I need to talk to my own bad self. Sorry about that, but you really need to leave now.

Scoot.

Depart!

Sherika.

Sherika. Shrek. Shrek.

You had your fun and then some, but now’s the time for you to stop acting like you don’t know any better and start bringing the intensity to this journey again. It’s time to stop not working out, finding “more” important things to do (that’s not really important at all)!

Here are some inconvenient truth’s that you seem to have forgotten, my friend…

Sherika, making time for exercise is the most important thing you can do, especially when every single person in your family has dropped dead from heart disease. Exercise helps your crazy neurotic brain settle down and helps you sleep. It’s a well known fact: exercise makes me nicer. I better get to it before Jay leaves and takes the lazy cats.

Folks don’t eat enough vegetables, and I think I figured out the reason why: most of them are just so poorly named that them hardly come off as appetizing. Who wants to eat something called “parsnips” or “turnips”? These items, like a lot of their veggie companions, need a branding makeover. Over at sherikahenry.com, there’s nothing I believe in more than a strong brand.

Do your part in helping people eat more fresh veggies by immediately adopting all these new names. The sooner they catch on, the sooner everyone can start benefiting from eating better and living healthier.

Asparagus sounds too much like “ass”. New name: Tender Yum-Yum Sticks.

Artichoke? Please! Nobody wants to eat something that has “choke” in its name. New name: Sugar-coated Funplant.

Mustard Greens?  Huh? This is one that I don’t get at all. They’re not yellow. They don’t taste like mustard. It just doesn’t make any sense. Besides, not everybody likes mustard. New name: Ketchup Greens.

Brussell Sprouts? No. Baby Boom-Boom Cabbages? Oh hell yeah!

Eggplant? Ridiculous. In Europe, they refer to it as “aubergine,” but that sounds like a new line of fragrance or some sort of skin rash ointment. New name: Tastyglobe.

Okra? That’s an easy fix. New name: Fried Okra.

Bell Peppers put people off because they expect them to make a ringing sound when you shake them. The best thing to do would be to add a ringing sound chip but easiest thing would be to change name. New name: Clapperless Bell Peppers.

Celery. Just the sound of that word makes me grimace. But I could munch on it if it had an enticing handle. New name: Savory Crunchsticks.

Squash. Is this a joke name? Did people used to just squash these plants for fun before realizing that you could actually eat them? New name: Lovemunchkins.

Chard. Now that’s just harsh as names go. It needs something softer, more gentle, more inviting. New name: Miracle Goodness Greens.

Kohlrabi. I’m sorry, but if I’m naming a vegetable, I try to keep from making it sound like a race of alien villains from Star Trek. New name: Chocólate (the “ó” makes it different than regular “chocolate”).

Rootabaga. – Actually, this is a perfectly named vegetable.

Radicchio – I’ve never liked this one. It sounds like you’re nose will grow an inch if you eat it. New name: Mmmm Mmmm Stuff.

Spinach. Despite Popeye the Sailor Man’s efforts to make it popular, this leafy green vegetable has never gotten its due. There’s only one person who can change that. New name: Sh*tach.

Divided or united, these cupcakes didn’t stand a chance. I devoured it in 5 seconds.

Originally posted on February 14, 2009

The pressure is on. It’s the big “V” day. Not vagina day, though it might as well be called that because it’s all about the women. It is perhaps the most dangerous day for any man in a relationship: Yes, it’s Valentine’s day, the day when a woman wants her man to shed his rough edges and turn into a modern Casanova.

I‘ve put my request in writing to my love monkey: “Honey, the best present you can give me is to leave me alone with a box of cake mix, the internet and a pound of chicken fried rice. Please don’t bother me about what I’d like to do, or where I’d like to go. But you are already so brilliant in the way you sense my desires that I didn’t even have to request that. Have a great day snow-boarding with your friends, and let’s go out tomorrow, the day after vagina day. We will have an amazing dinner (like we always do), it will be half the price and twice the fun (like it always is).” I picture him smiling at my note with that colgate smile and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. There are few things that can make an ice princess like me feel warm and fuzzy.

I don’t know why this stupid holiday full of expectations pisses me off so much. I mean chocolate? C’mon, my fridge is loaded. Flowers? They wilt and die, not a symbol of the love I want. Lingerie? It’s too big, it’s too small, it’s made to look good on Heidi Klum, and, let’s face the facts–I’m no Heidi Klum…I’m better.

It troubles my nerves that this one day out of the year bears so much significance, when in fact, these expectations that we have of our partners should be recognized in everyday practice. Partnership, love, respect, fun, intimacy and affection. Everyday should be valentines day.

Let me share some of my favorite facts about vagina day:

And to those of you who expect so much on Valentine’s day, I’d be curious to know: what does it really mean for you?

1. Photographing my cats. Yes, I know — weird.

2. Flannel. Wear with clear heels and you will suddenly feel much sexier. Just don’t tell anyone.

3. Don’t diet. Ever. I hate “no”. I get rebellious, and I really don’t like challenging myself to stay away from Buttercup Bakery. I think the cookies must get lonely, begging for a belly to love them. The best part? Learning to love the badass exercise session the day after—a different kind of high that burns off the frosting and keeps me and my body in check. Plus, cupcakes makes me much nicer and easier for others to love me.

4. Getting up today, feeling achy, too tired to move. By evening, total running euphoria, muscles nice and pliable, thanks to exercise.

5. More Running. I covet being a gazelle, so running for speed and beating previous times/miles is important to my training. I continue to challenge myself by perfecting my stride, but my darn lower back can keep up. I still practice…being sweaty makes me feel good.

6. Walking around NYC with the confidence in your stride knowing that you strong enough to resist a push or pull.

What are your 6 things?

This is a hard thing to write about for three reasons:

1) We are veering way too far out of fitness land, and
2) I don’t like that type of web traffic that this topic brings me
3) Google bots don’t like the word vagina

But it will not stop me from writing about it, if only I could just stop laughing first.

Many people have their own way of describing that female part — but me, personally? I like Chelsea Handler’s description best: Kaslopis. Let’s make something clear, I have no idea if that’s someone’s name, the name of their company or their pet. I just think it sounds funny as hell. And who doesn’t like a funny kaslopis?

Well, imagine my shock when I came across this sacred kaslopis purse. All I could think about is sticking my hand into a coochie-like-purse-thing every time I needed my chapstick, even if it is: “More than a sumptuous Renaissance bag, the Velvet V represents in three-dimensional form the sacred portal to the feminine temple” and when “Each has sumptuous fabric labia and a beautiful button clitoris.” And you cannot use the word “sumptuous” twice in one passage, even when referring to a velvety scary red kaslopis bag.

Oh, and beware of purse snatchers. Booyah!

If you know anything about me, then you can just imagine just how delighted I was when I saw this headline: “Masturbation cuts cancer risk”. Awww yeah. That’s right, I’m just sticking it to cancer.

Then I read a little further and discovered the study refers to guys, something about flushing out the fluids (um, eweee) to reduce the risk of prostate cancer. I guess if the fluids build up from not enough ejaculations, the carcinogens that accumulate in the prostate just hang around and cause trouble. Oh, and just having more sex isn’t going to rectify the problem, because of the risk of a sexually transmitted disease, which could then increase cancer risk.

I am totally on board with just about any measure that has to be taken to prevent cancer, but I am particularly fond of it when researchers show that some activity I enjoy actually has health benefits. For example, dark chocolate I believe was linked with cancer prevention, so now I’m not just having my third chocolate bar of the day…I’m saving myself from cancer!! Everyone knows my stance on drinking red wine: the more, the better your chance of preventing heart disease. Still waiting for the study that links cake, particularly cupcakes with increased intelligence, but I’m sure it’s right around the corner.

So men, get going. Go to town. Go nuts.

And here’s a great quote from the story: “If these findings hold up, then it’s perfectly reasonable that men should be encouraged to masturbate.”  Um, does anyone really need encouragement to do this, and, if my doctor suggested that to me, I’d be totally confused, and probably say, “Like…right now…??

Memories: 2009

It’s that time of year…again.

Well, almost, anyway—It’s going to be 2010 in just a couple of days. It’s time to review everything we’ve done over the last 31,536,001 seconds. We look at the past year in photographs, we smile, we get sentimental about the wonderful moments. For some of us, we pretend the embarrassing moments didn’t happen and remind ourselves how we’ll never do that again.

Now, we’ve moved on to new resolutions, because isn’t that what the new year is all about? The big deadline for all things dare-like? Losing the last few pounds, start the health kick, learning to abstain from sugar and sex with strangers, promising to be nicer people. I mean, the list of promises can go on forever.

Right before thanksgiving I made a goal: avoid all things sugar and flour based. I was pretty good, passing on cupcakes and resisting cookies. I turned down leftovers and begged mom not to give me candy. I refrained from that which I love so dearly. I lost no weight, and I got very crabby.

A resolution is like a marathon—26 miles is as far as a year is long. Everyone knows about the old marathon wall: Somewhere between miles 15 and 20, people crash and burn and many drop out. Some collapse on the side of the road, but those who have heart and commitment give it a final push, scrape up strength they didn’t know they had, and get over the finish line. That finish line moment is magic, it’s victory over fear and pain and all the ‘I cant’ your body and mind throw at you. It requires mental and emotional toughness and that my friends, is what separates out the champions.

Oh me? I’m nursing a sugar hangover on the side of the road at mile 18. Or it could just be that pound of flour weighing me down. For at Christmas, there was cake. And I allowed myself to indulge in cake and cookies. I could have said no, I could have made it through the holidays without the extra gallon of eggnog, I could’ve turned down the extra serving of pie, but when push came to shove, I said, “Ow, don’t push me, it hurts. I just want cake. Cake will make it better.”  Why the hell am I telling you all this?

Well, maybe something good can come out of this somehow, something more insightful and helpful than me going “waa waa waa.” Maybe we can just admit that at times, for every moment we are strong, that we are also weak. It’s amazing to achieve a goal, but it’s ok if we fail. And there is no point in wishing that you could go back and do it differently—that’s crap, because you can’t, and there’s no sense in wishing for that. The only thing we can do is be kind, exercise compassion, quit whining and start over.

After all, the only sure thing we have in life is just the present moment, everything else is gone, anything else may never come.

My only goal for 2010 is to live in the present, what’s yours?