Rachel Nichols
Lets talk about the holidays, more specifically, consumption during the holidays. If it's true that 'We are what we eat,' most of us would be unrecognizable during the period that ranges from the night before Thanksgiving through that day in early January when everyone decides to return to the gym.Collection: Thanksgiving
I simply do not think that yelling, swearing, threatening or belittling will get you to the place you want to be faster than kindness, understanding, patience and a little willingness to compromise.Collection: Patience
It doesn't matter if you're sad or hung-over or lazy or tired - a workout will get your endorphins pumping, and you'll feel like a new person almost instantly.Collection: Sad
I definitely try to eat a healthy diet, but I am the first person to say I love unhealthy food. I would never tell you I don't. I love fried chicken or mac and cheese. Do I order them all the time when I'm out at restaurants? No, though I do have one splurge meal a week.Collection: Diet
Sometimes, when full and in fear that I will continue to eat unwanted food just because it's staring at me, I will place my napkin over the remaining portion. This is what I frequently refer to as a 'food funeral.'
The thing I can't figure out is why I have an undeniable compulsion to clean public spaces, airplane bathrooms, restaurant flatware, hotel gyms and Chapstick containers... yet I have no desire to make my own bed. Ever. Seriously, who made me, and where am I from?
I know my football. And I adore football players. The crashing noise of a tackle, the huddle grunting, and the roar of the crowd are music to my ears.
This is a polarizing statement, as I have come to discover, but I am a Pats, Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins fan from birth until death.
The list of problems that we all experience may be endless, but I honestly cannot abide by the rule that, 'He who yells louder is heard.'
Why does my brain insist on counting the steps every time I walk up a flight of stairs? I just can't help myself. There's something about my mind that always wants to keep counting.
How come I love having an episode of deja vu? It's akin to an out-of-body experience, I would think. It sits with me, happily, begging me to delve into my memory to find its match point.
How come foreign accents are so sexy? If I say, 'I'm going to the store,' it sounds boring, benign and rudimentary. But if it's said with an accent, it sounds fundamentally cool.
I love food. I mean, I really love food. I take pictures of my finest, funniest and most fascinating dishes, post them on Twitter, and send them to friends. I treat menus like classic literature, refusing to skip even one word. I read the description of every item, regardless of whether or not I'm interested in eating it.
There are those people that eat to live and those that live to eat. I am of the latter, as many of you already know. To me, eating is an adventure.
I have been known to go to the grocery store and just buy pepperoni. There's just something fantastic about salty, fatty meats.
I love dessert. All kinds. But there's something about ice cream that makes me happy. I am drawn to its simplicity. I am perplexed by the endless supply of constantly growing flavor options. And I am always in the mood for sprinkles and a sugar cone.
I happen to be quite fond of staying out late and sleeping the day away.
Don't squander beautiful moments by always trying to snap the perfect picture or record the event on film. Sometimes it's better to watch things as they happen with your own eyes, knowing that the memory of the experience will always be with you.
I've always enjoyed doing dishes. Maybe it was the fashionable yellow gloves that I loved so much. It's weird, I know, but I find cleaning cathartic.
I don't know how to cook, but I do know how to bake.
I have an insatiable palate. I'll try anything once, with an open mind. However, there is a special place in my heart for Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Don't get me wrong, I've sampled specialty Mac & Cheese all over the world, but nothing competes with the stuff I grew up on.
I'm obsessed with making lists.
I love Bridget Fonda.
I can never find a movie I want to watch, even though I've got hundreds to choose from.
Who cares if your outfit is black and you're sporting a brown belt? Wear it, rock it, love it - and others will, too. Nothing beats a belt.
I'm not one of those people that wears something once and tosses it aside. I wear my shoes until they beg to be thrown away. Parting is such sweet sorrow - and then it's onto the next pair.
I strongly believe that good books are the best home accessory.
Short boots are cool, in my humble opinion. They say, 'Hey! Winter is over, but summer hasn't yet arrived - so enjoy this halfway point!'
Nothing says, 'I pay attention to detail!' like footwear flattery from a boy.
They say that women dress for other women, but I don't think that's entirely true. If we want to look flossy out-and-about on a Friday night, we're dressing for the boys - and it's nice when they notice.
I'm a girl that loves cars. I've always loved them. I love to drive with the windows down, sunroof open, and music pumping.
I love to vacuum. There's just something so satisfying about hearing detritus sucked up into a vacuum. Sand makes such a great sound when being vacuumed off a hardwood floor.
I love to clean my ears. I've heard that you're not supposed to do it every day, but I throw caution to the wind for some quality time with a strong Q-Tip.
I love stretching in the morning. It's the first thing I do when I wake up because getting a good back-crack is so extremely satiating. I feel taller when I finally stand.
As far as I'm concerned, attraction, in its most rudimentary form, comes from the way a person naturally smells. I'd say that within the first five seconds of 'inhaling' someone, I know if there's an attraction or not. This may sound animalistic - and it is.
I have smelled some very famous and undoubtedly sexy boys. And sometimes, as cute as they are, I'd rather have them as a friend - just because of the way they smell!
I thought that I'd have a briefcase-and-power-suit career.
I always knew I'd go back to school. Modeling was a means to an end, making money for graduate school.
History is fickle. We know that. The good and bad come around and go around, and go around again. There are recessions and depressions and economic boom and bust.
I'm from Maine. I eat apple pie for breakfast.
I laugh at what I used to think was cool when I was growing up. In all seriousness, I thought having braces was cool.
People ask me about fighting in real life and, honestly, it wouldn't look as graceful as it does in film and TV.
I am a night owl. I always have been... and I'd like to think I always will be, although surely having children will put a stop to my nightly affairs with myself.
My type is really young, short, athletic, and smart. I know, you want to be with someone who's going to be your friend - yeah, yeah, yeah. I want the Adonis line, the two down the hips to the waist. And a guy has to be able to accept criticism about his clothing. I can be very particular about what I like and don't like.
What woman doesn't want to go out there and kick some butt? I did it with a sword in 'Conan,' I did it with a crossbow in 'G.I. Joe,' and I've got my multi-tool and my super-suit in 'Continuum.' It's really a release, and it's quite cool.
I will openly admit that I've never really followed hockey. Given my New England upbringing, I have always adhered to the Celtics, Patriots, Red Sox, Bruins mantra of professional sports fandom, but hockey was definitely the lowest sport on the totem pole - even when the Bruins won the Stanley Cup.
There's something so soothing about the hum of Grand Central Station.
I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to summers in Maine.
So far, Vancouver is my favorite relocation city. It feels like home. Parts of it remind me of the east coast. It's very clean. The food is great. And the people are lovely. Not that I didn't love working in other glamorous locations like Downey, Detroit, Cleveland or Bulgaria... but, damn, it is fun to be Canadian.
Why do I always choose the shopping cart with the squeaky wheel? Is it my bad luck, or are all the carts dysfunctional?