Smartburn Rapid Total-Body Weight Loss Pills

The change of life has punctured my metabolism, and it never recovered. Like many other Women I found myself gaining an intense amount of weight and was in the market to see if there was something that could kick-start the old jalopy as it where.  So, after doing a little checking, I purchased SmartBurn  Rapid Total-Body Weight Loss which has tons of catchy dieter words such as:

Total-body Weight Loss, Including Belly, Butt & Thighs.
Researched Key Ingredient - Lose Twice the Weight than Dieting Alone!.
No Added Caffeine.
Ginseng Enhanced.

My review is simple and to the point:

1. Does it work?  Not for me.

2. How often did you take it: 2 pills a minimum of 2 hours before a meal. 2 times per day (as instructed) with 10 ounces of water. for a duration of 1 month.

3. Did it give you any side effects? No.


4. Would I recommend buying it? No.  Save your money.

I would suppose that the expectation is that you should increase your exercise and eat more healthy while taking these pills however if that is the differentiating factor to lose weight, then why bother taking any pills whatsoever.  

Menopause is Stupid

I am not sure what brilliant person ever coined the term or named this condition as "menopause" because it is anything but.  A pause denotes the idea that you are taking a break, maybe for a moment of silence so you think, maybe you pause for reorganizing the troops, but certainly the word "menopause" is the just the start that never ever ends.  One of my least favorite things is having tags like "pre and post" because that just screws you up even more. It denotes that there is a start and an end. Lies, lies and well more lies.

Seriously. Why don't they just point to picture of a frying pan, crack an egg gently into it and say "This is your brain". Then they take the pan and fling it at break-neck speed through a plate glass window while commenting "and this, Ladies, is your brain in Menopause".   You get the picture.

I used to remember a time..oh wait...no. Actually, I don't remember. That is part of the problem. So what is the secret to getting through this predicament? I don't know that either, because I do not believe that you go back to who you were, and I do not believe that it ever ends.

More likely is that you forget that you ever were fertile in any sense and then there is ice-cream.

Ice-cream makes everything better.Doesn't it?

You're Name Wouldn't Happen to be Dick,Would it?

Here I am. Sitting at a table for two in downtown Vancouver listening to a conversation that is one-sided from a music aficionado acquaintance that I met through a mutual friend. And all I can think about is: "how to get the hell out of here as soon as possible". And why is that? Well, this sudden flight response is my usual train of thought when having to listening to a man talk about how sexual he is. This one wants to tell me he has to have at least 5 orgasms a week and that he still has a super high sex-drive.  And what were we talking about that was the segue into this delicate subject?: Pizza. Yes, Pizza.  Apparently mentioning how much you like Pizza will have this guy telling you all about his Penis. Maybe because they both start with the letter "P". Hmmm.  I am not sure how my complimenting the balsamic reduction drizzled onto a slice has translated into such personal (and believe me), unwanted spew, about him doing the humpty-dance has me baffled.

So I get very quite. I mean, we are both here to attend a music event and it becomes painfully obvious that he is so overwhelmed with the thought that we are sharing a table or he is bat-shit crazy and wants to see if I would be interested in bumping uglies with him. I don't know. So, as he gives me the gory details of why he needs so much sex, he sprinkles the stories with comments about how all women being secretly bisexual and he has been privy to watching them getting it on.  I throw up a little in my mouth, I'm speechless still. I feel really uncomfortable and find myself getting annoyed as to why he thinks I need to hear this. For God sakes man!, I just met you.  So I wait and then I notice it. There's another woman sitting diagonally from me and she looks disgusted. I would suppose that it was because he is a fairly loud person that everyone in the restaurant could hear what he was saying.

Finally, I waive my hand sharply in front of his voice and command him to stop, cutting him off mid-sentence from another horrid detail of his many marriages and his swinger lifestyle. I just tell him I am not interested, at all, in any way, to hear about this part of his life and that I did not come here to be privy to his striking desire to enchant me with his "me so horny all the time" talk.  I think he was mad after that. Oh well.

The rest of the evening (all next half hour of it), turned worse when he paraded down a city street with an imitation of what he said was the worst music he had ever heard in his life, air-guitaring like a someone who couldn't tell a fret from a fart and screeching something inaudible, which I assume he felt was an honest display of their songs.

I am not certain what compels a man to tell me all about his libido but I can tell you that it is actually rather a despicable trait. All that happens is that I have now come to the conclusion that you are creepy and desperate to confide so openly how much you need it. Maybe you thought you would get lucky. Uhm nope.

He has UN-friended me today. Sigh. That's life. Ain't it a Peach? (better not use that word, it also starts with a "P".