Archive for January, 2010
I swore I wouldn’t do it. I was firm in my resolve. For a while. And then I started to wonder…what if I just tried it? It couldn’t hurt, right? Just to try?
But I resisted temptation. I held strong to my decision. For a while. My closest friends were doing it, but they loved me even though I didn’t.
Then I got a new job. I was surrounded. Everyone was doing it. I tried to be stronger than the peer pressure.
This weekend, I caved. I threw caution to the wind and dove headfirst off the cliff after all the other loveable lemmings.
The skinny-jean-wearing lemmings.
I officially own my first pair of skinny jeans. And probably my last, since I’m not sure I’ll ever have the guts to wear them out of my house. I’m not a skinny jean kind of girl. I have monstrous thighs. My ankles are not small. I am not nor will I ever be petite. I have a large and oddly shaped arse. My hips are roughly ginormous. Come to think of it, this was probably a really bad plan. What was I thinking?? I don’t even really like rodents!
Maybe I’ll climb back up the cliff and return the damn pants.
Maybe I retract my lemming pledge.
I want out! I wasn’t meant to be a cool kid! I’ve never been a cool kid…I want to retreat to my corner. It’s quirky, dark and comfortable there. I like my corner. It has funny tshirts and normal jeans. It has unicorns and Yoshi and more cowbell.
I’m retreating. Take the pants. Just take ‘em. I’m outta here.
And please…don’t send the sniper squirrel after me. I was lying about not liking rodents. Well, except rats. They’re gross. But I like most of the others! I swear! No, please, not the sniper squirrel!!
Disclaimer: I am not trying to insult anyone who does wear skinny jeans. Well, maybe if you’re wearing them in true emo fashion…then I’ll make fun of you…fair’s fair…but normal, trendy skinny jeans wearers are cool with me. Don’t be sensitive. I’m making a hyperbolic analogy. Go with it. Hyperbole is the spice of life. Well, maybe not THE spice of life, but definitely one of them. Whatever. I’m just saying, if you’re sensitive about your pants, that’s your issue. Not mine. I’ve got enough of my own to deal with. Sensitive pants notwithstanding.
Yeah, okay, I’m neither, but mostly just because I lack the balls required for either.
I confess, I’m watching Jay Leno (of which I am NOT a fan, but it comes on right after fat people and I’m too lazy to do anything about it) and that’s where the title came from.
Anyway…I figured I should post something before anyone starts to worry. Or forgets that I exist. That’s just bad blogiquette.
Things have been crazy lately, but in a very good way. The new job is amazing. I seem to be holding my own from what I can tell. They haven’t told me to go away and never come back. That might be the cupcakes, though. Whatever. I’ll take it. I’ll make cupcakes every damn night if it means I get to stay. Even if the projects aren’t all glamorous (yeah, because the last gig was tres chic), working with the kind of people I am with every day is such an awesomely awesome piece of awesomeness. So there.
Ah, fuck, the cat has something to say to you all. Or not…it seems he wants to show you his butt and then attempt to impede my ability to type. Oh, now he’s gone to pout on the next cushion over because he’s being ignored. Ha, I poked him and he just stared at the back of the couch and pretended I don’t exist. Yeah, Kitty, do something that surprises me next time. Like cartwheels (catwheels?). Now that would be fucking cool. Acting like a cat? Not so much. Ass.
So anyway, I was watching The Biggest Loser tonight (and enjoying perhaps a glass of wine…or two…) when I was struck with the unshakable craving for cheesecake. I mean, a craving that was like the flames of hell, licking incessantly at my brain’s cheesecake receptors (those are real, don’t doubt me). T was too involved in the show to help out, so I drove to the store and proceeded to shop like a kindergartener. What is it about watching fat people on TV that makes a girl drive half-cocked to Shop n Save and buy coffee, marshmallows, cheesecake, hot fudge, milk and cookie dough? Seriously. Had I thrown some tampons in the basket, I don’t think the checker girl would have looked at me like that…
Anyway, now I’m just pissed because the stupid cheesecake has to thaw for THREE TO FOUR HOURS so I’ve been hacking small cheesecakey ice cubes off and attempting to eat them and now my teeth hurt. And I ate some cookie dough. And then cooked the rest of the dough and ate a couple cookies. And opened the marshmallows. And had some milk. However, the hot fudge has remained untouched. After all, that’s for the cheesecake.
So I guess my plan for weighing in tomorrow AM for the first time in a few weeks has been besmirched. Whoops. And I’ve actually been doing much better the last few days. I just got the Wii Active (LOVE) and have been bringing my lunch and all that good stuff. The dog even got walked the other day. He’s so cute when he walks. His ears flop when he trots.
I hate the word trot. Ever since I learned it was a synonym for diarrhea, hearing it has either made me a little uncomfortable or made me laugh. But even when I laugh, it still makes me uncomfortable. Trot. Ew. Speaking of diarrhea, this post has turned into a total brainal purge (brainal…haha…who’s uncomfortable now??).
I guess T might be right that I don’t need that last glass of wine before bed. Ah, fuck it. Since when do I listen to anything anyone tells me to do or not do?
Do you smell that? Someone farted. I gotta get outta here.
Oh, PS…I tried the new Bud Select 55 and it kicks MGD 64′s metallic-tasting ass. And the new Domino’s rocks.
Teresa, this one’s for you. I know your pain. And I admire your balls. I’m not ashamed to admit that.