(no subject)
So. I was just out running some errands on my lunch hour when I happened to catch a glimpse of one of those extra inches in a most unflattering angle as I passed by a window and I was so stricken with horror and despair that I walked into the nearest clothing store determined to buy the biggest muu-muu I could find to cover my offensive self up with. Except they didn't have any. So I went into the next store and the next and the next after that, desperate for anything even a potato sack with which to hide my unsightly bulge. And when every store turned up goddamned fucking empty I settled for a paper bag over my head as I slunk back to the office and vowed to get meaner friends who would tell me the truth about what an malformed eyesore I am. And then it occurred to me that maybe I already DO have those meaner friends and they know exactly how ridiculous I look in these form fitting clothes and they're all secretly cackling with glee at having talked me into wearing them in public no less.
And then I sat down and ate a damned sandwich cuz wow, calorie restriction is clearly not the way for me and my hypoglycemic rage to attempt to lose these last few pounds. Not if I want to retain my sanity. Or my friends for that matter.
So that's pretty much all you've missed this week. I've been cursing myself mightily for not finding more time to write this week but looking back on the above that's probably a good thing. I keep wishing for just 3 extra hours in each day so that I would have more time to write and exercise and keep my damned bush hairz under control except who am I kidding? Those 3 extra hours would just be spent drinking with my bitches or humping my husband as all the hours previous have been. I enjoy my delusions of grandeur but at the end of the day I remain the same happy, hairy, hungover chubbette as always and that, my friends, is not necessarily a bad thing.
Though yesterday I did have the strangest pang of plant envy of all strange things. We were in Canadian Tire and they had these pre-grown tomato plants as tall as my hip and I really, REALLY wanted to sneak a couple home and replace the poor, withered, half-dead infidels currently residing in my "garden" and oh, how I use the term lightly. And so I almost did. Then I remembered that I don't give a shit about gardening so why on earth would I bother to go the expense and trouble to cheat at it? It's far more my style to enjoy failing as grandly as possible at it. So I went home and pointed and laughed at those browning little stumps and then had the really strong urge to just jump and down on them while twirling my moustache of evil except Cyn recognized that look in my eye and made eat a bowl of cereal and so the 'tee-toes'[1] got to live another day. If you call that living. For all I know they'll have dried up and blown away completely by the time I get home so dammit I really need to take some pictures to remember them by.
Ha.
And thanks to Niter Fratboy has been upgraded to Fratman lately. Every time he comes home when she's over he is greeted with a resounding chorus of 'nananananana FRATMAN!'. He appears rather chuffed about it.
I would also like it noted for the record that I am wearing 2 pairs of panties today. Apparently I was so tired this morning instead of changing them I just put a fresh pair over the ones I was already wearing.
Even better?
The fact that despite several trips to the bathroom it's taken me until after 2 in the afternoon to notice.
That is all.
[1] 'Tee-toes' being how Twisty G pronounces tomates. He also calls Niter A-meata, and particularly loves to do it while bellowing "I WUV YOU AMEATA!!" when she's walking away. Cuz if she goes anywhere near him he runs and hides like she's a leper. He's smooth, just like his daddy, that one...
And then I sat down and ate a damned sandwich cuz wow, calorie restriction is clearly not the way for me and my hypoglycemic rage to attempt to lose these last few pounds. Not if I want to retain my sanity. Or my friends for that matter.
So that's pretty much all you've missed this week. I've been cursing myself mightily for not finding more time to write this week but looking back on the above that's probably a good thing. I keep wishing for just 3 extra hours in each day so that I would have more time to write and exercise and keep my damned bush hairz under control except who am I kidding? Those 3 extra hours would just be spent drinking with my bitches or humping my husband as all the hours previous have been. I enjoy my delusions of grandeur but at the end of the day I remain the same happy, hairy, hungover chubbette as always and that, my friends, is not necessarily a bad thing.
Though yesterday I did have the strangest pang of plant envy of all strange things. We were in Canadian Tire and they had these pre-grown tomato plants as tall as my hip and I really, REALLY wanted to sneak a couple home and replace the poor, withered, half-dead infidels currently residing in my "garden" and oh, how I use the term lightly. And so I almost did. Then I remembered that I don't give a shit about gardening so why on earth would I bother to go the expense and trouble to cheat at it? It's far more my style to enjoy failing as grandly as possible at it. So I went home and pointed and laughed at those browning little stumps and then had the really strong urge to just jump and down on them while twirling my moustache of evil except Cyn recognized that look in my eye and made eat a bowl of cereal and so the 'tee-toes'[1] got to live another day. If you call that living. For all I know they'll have dried up and blown away completely by the time I get home so dammit I really need to take some pictures to remember them by.
Ha.
And thanks to Niter Fratboy has been upgraded to Fratman lately. Every time he comes home when she's over he is greeted with a resounding chorus of 'nananananana FRATMAN!'. He appears rather chuffed about it.
I would also like it noted for the record that I am wearing 2 pairs of panties today. Apparently I was so tired this morning instead of changing them I just put a fresh pair over the ones I was already wearing.
Even better?
The fact that despite several trips to the bathroom it's taken me until after 2 in the afternoon to notice.
That is all.
[1] 'Tee-toes' being how Twisty G pronounces tomates. He also calls Niter A-meata, and particularly loves to do it while bellowing "I WUV YOU AMEATA!!" when she's walking away. Cuz if she goes anywhere near him he runs and hides like she's a leper. He's smooth, just like his daddy, that one...