Monday, May 31, 2010
The Good Lord will take care of you, again... I'm not so sure about me, though.
I just finished reading my bestest bloggy buddy's latest over on her page, http://paigebaker.blogspot.com and read about some masks and scars. Once again, she's right on the money.. and while I'm not nearly as poetic as her (as I've proven), I know a little something about masks and scars. Especially scars.
Even if you manage to put them out of your mind, the damage is still done and you're still haunted.
Everyone has scars, some of us just carry them on the inside.
Not sure when I'm going to post again, since I'm going through some "things" and can't quite express them in the comical manner you've become accustomed to... until then, enjoy one of my favorites by the John Mayer Trio, and I'll see you soon enough.
Goin to Mississippi
I'm not really going to Mississippi, but if I were... I'd want to go with an old Chicago blues man like Magic. Enjoy, gang. =)
Friday, May 28, 2010
The night before...
Restless sleep.
Tossing, turning, writhing.
Bright blue eyes replaced by vacant black orbs.
I'm awake again.
Today, I will make pies and try to forget the dreams from the night before.
Tossing, turning, writhing.
Bright blue eyes replaced by vacant black orbs.
I'm awake again.
Today, I will make pies and try to forget the dreams from the night before.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Twitter is for voyeurs, Internet is for agoraphobics, Real life is for douchebags
Today was a long day.
I woke up after only like 5 hours of sleep, head pounding because of this godforsaken monsoon weather we've been having, and had to start "tweeting". Two hours later I woke up again and had to start "tweeting". Throughout the entire day, I had to "tweet".
What did I tweet about? Not a goddamn thing of importance. However, I still managed to pick up 2 more followers on Twitter. This leads me to believe one thing.
You are all voyeurs.
I am not, however, and exhibitionist... and I've failed you. I did nothing astounding that was worthy of your following me all day long, I jumped through no hoops, saved no orphans from a burning building... I didn't even set the building on fire that the orphans stay in.
Good god, I'm boring.
So here's what I've done, I've lounged around most all day doing absolutely nothing... until a couple of hours ago when I struck up a conversation with my new bloggy buddy about homeless people, drug addicts, and internet pirates.
It started about the pictures on her latest blogpost, then centered around our own experiences with friends and family...but in the end, it landed its focus squarely upon me.
So, here it is, world. I'm going to lay it out for you.
I'm fucked up. Seriously.
I don't mean like "huh huh huh, dude. I'm so wasted right now, brah..pass me another natural light."
I'm also not fucked up in the manner that I would be exploring methods of transportation in order to make it to White Castle.
But mentally, yeah, I'm a little cracked.
Granted, this mental condition I have is purely self-diagnosed. That doesn't mean its still not there.
It really started a few years back when I was still making rather poor choices in life, like going out and drinking heavily and drag racing down main street. That particular choice cost me my drivers license and 100 hours of court ordered alcohol classes.
I've never been unintelligent, and it was obvious to me that I was wayyyyy smarter than the jokers that were providing this specialized "rehab" service to us poor wayward individuals. What I was actually forced to go through was in way, shape, or form rehabilitation... they were just there to make a buck.
But, because I'm extremely charming and can manipulate and divert thought processes and conversations, I was actually deemed by them, on the paper that I took back to court, a "social drinker"... truth be told, at that point in my life I was a drunk.
I was very much self-aware of my functioning alcoholism, I could have been a poster boy for it. I was so self-aware of it that I could hide it from everyone else and make them believe I wasn't a danger to myself.
I was never much on drugs, per se. The worst I'd ever really done was smoke weed back in high school, and decided that I wasn't going to do that anymore when I turned 18. I mean, c'mon... I was only 18. I was on a budget. I could only afford 2 out of 3 vices, so I chose the two I enjoyed the most..being beer and cigarettes.
But lets fast forward a bit... I drank, mainly, because I liked to drink. I used to drink vast amounts. It's one of the few things I've ever been really really good at. And to be quite honest, except for a couple brushes with the law because I consciously made bad decisions thinking I would get away with it (see driving while intoxicated)...it was never a problem.
Now I don't drink. Not because it turned into an issue, but just because I don't really feel like it.
I have a new addiction now. It's worse than drinking, but at least its cheaper.
It's called the Internet.
It doesn't matter what part of the internet, that makes no difference.
WoW? all day long.
Facebook? I'm there, baby.
Random people I meet on the internet? hell yeah I'll talk to you!!
Any given website? ohmahgawd did she really just do that with a pickle?
Yup, doesn't matter what it is...the internet is my drug.
I was born for this shit.
My addiction starts when I first wake up. I have to check email, then I have to check facebook, and now (thanks to my mild ocd) I have to check my blog and twitter to see if I have new followers.
Then I see that I don't, and I get paranoid... "omg, I wasn't funny enough, they didn't tell any friends about me... must... try...harder..."
Or I do have new followers, and then I'm giddy like a schoolgirl that made it out of class without getting her pigtails dunked in the inkwell that day by that dirty little bastard Timmy Malone.
But I still have to try harder. My brain starts to scramble, I sit here and thoughts race around like greyhounds chasing rabbits on meth.
"shit, what am I gonna do... I know, I'll make pies"
"w00t, that was full of win! aw shit, I have no other skills..wtf am I gonna do now?"
I become a hermit, sitting on the edge of my bed staring blankly at my laptop and mindlessly eating raspberry zingers...
empty soda cans and coffee cups arranged neatly in a row on the nightstand until there are room for no more of them.
Then I get wrapped up completely in the internet again, and my self-diagnosed agoraphobia deepens...at this point, I literally do -not- want to go outside any longer to interact with real people.
I mean, it just scares the shit out of me. Not in a "omg I can't breath" panic sort of way, but in a really weird sort of way.
The sort of way that makes it painfully obvious that people in the real world are absolute fucking imbeciles. They are. I'm not even joking.
The worst part of it is, I can't be open and honest with them in the real world like I can on the internet. It's not socially acceptable behavior.
Here, I can tell someone just how big of a douchebag (see attached picture of douchebag) they really are, and then point out 17 different reasons supporting my accusation.
If I do that shit in public, I'll get in a fight and go to jail.
Plus, people like you all are on the internet.
You bunch are INFINITELY more enjoyable to converse with than anyone I know in real life. People in real life are all like "heh heh...how about that game?"... .and I'm like " I DON'T EVEN LIKE SPORTS YOU FUCKWAD, I'VE TOLD YOU THAT LIKE 27 GODDAMN TIMES NOW!!!"
at least that's what I say in my head.
Oh oh... and people in real life... they smell.
Like some of them, they smell fucking HORRIBLE!
And half the time they do that shit on purpose!! I mean, I could understand if your plane went down and you just spent the last 65 days in backcountry hiking your way to civilization, sucking the sap out of pine cones and chewing on pebbles to survive... you might smell just a little odd.
But no, some of these people parade around in their skinny jeans and hipster glasses wearing some crap they got at the outlet mall and paid $47.00 per ounce for... and I have to stop and wonder just who in the HELL tied them down this morning and sprayed them like a feral cat with that foul smelling stench, then forced them to wander the streets like a down-on-her-luck french prostitute?
It's like they lost a bet.
Oh, and the girls.
Omg the girls these days. They actually do scare the shit out of me.
You don't know how old anyone is anymore...
I can't talk to any female in person unless she's got crows feet around her eyes, for fucks sake.
Jesus, I say hi to someone and grin... next thing I know I'm getting the partyvan on my front lawn.
It's no wonder I'm single.
Whats even worse than the girls are the boys! Don't even get me started on them.
This picture is also able to be swapped with the douchebag picture previously posted.
Ok, so I guess this went from "Twitter is for voyeurs" to "Hello, My name is Velocigoose...*hello velocigoose*" to a rant showing why my blog is named what it is.
sorry about that, I'll do better next time.
I woke up after only like 5 hours of sleep, head pounding because of this godforsaken monsoon weather we've been having, and had to start "tweeting". Two hours later I woke up again and had to start "tweeting". Throughout the entire day, I had to "tweet".
What did I tweet about? Not a goddamn thing of importance. However, I still managed to pick up 2 more followers on Twitter. This leads me to believe one thing.
You are all voyeurs.
I am not, however, and exhibitionist... and I've failed you. I did nothing astounding that was worthy of your following me all day long, I jumped through no hoops, saved no orphans from a burning building... I didn't even set the building on fire that the orphans stay in.
Good god, I'm boring.
So here's what I've done, I've lounged around most all day doing absolutely nothing... until a couple of hours ago when I struck up a conversation with my new bloggy buddy about homeless people, drug addicts, and internet pirates.
It started about the pictures on her latest blogpost, then centered around our own experiences with friends and family...but in the end, it landed its focus squarely upon me.
So, here it is, world. I'm going to lay it out for you.
I'm fucked up. Seriously.
I don't mean like "huh huh huh, dude. I'm so wasted right now, brah..pass me another natural light."
I'm also not fucked up in the manner that I would be exploring methods of transportation in order to make it to White Castle.
But mentally, yeah, I'm a little cracked.
Granted, this mental condition I have is purely self-diagnosed. That doesn't mean its still not there.
It really started a few years back when I was still making rather poor choices in life, like going out and drinking heavily and drag racing down main street. That particular choice cost me my drivers license and 100 hours of court ordered alcohol classes.
I've never been unintelligent, and it was obvious to me that I was wayyyyy smarter than the jokers that were providing this specialized "rehab" service to us poor wayward individuals. What I was actually forced to go through was in way, shape, or form rehabilitation... they were just there to make a buck.
But, because I'm extremely charming and can manipulate and divert thought processes and conversations, I was actually deemed by them, on the paper that I took back to court, a "social drinker"... truth be told, at that point in my life I was a drunk.
I was very much self-aware of my functioning alcoholism, I could have been a poster boy for it. I was so self-aware of it that I could hide it from everyone else and make them believe I wasn't a danger to myself.
I was never much on drugs, per se. The worst I'd ever really done was smoke weed back in high school, and decided that I wasn't going to do that anymore when I turned 18. I mean, c'mon... I was only 18. I was on a budget. I could only afford 2 out of 3 vices, so I chose the two I enjoyed the most..being beer and cigarettes.
But lets fast forward a bit... I drank, mainly, because I liked to drink. I used to drink vast amounts. It's one of the few things I've ever been really really good at. And to be quite honest, except for a couple brushes with the law because I consciously made bad decisions thinking I would get away with it (see driving while intoxicated)...it was never a problem.
Now I don't drink. Not because it turned into an issue, but just because I don't really feel like it.
I have a new addiction now. It's worse than drinking, but at least its cheaper.
It's called the Internet.
It doesn't matter what part of the internet, that makes no difference.
WoW? all day long.
Facebook? I'm there, baby.
Random people I meet on the internet? hell yeah I'll talk to you!!
Any given website? ohmahgawd did she really just do that with a pickle?
Yup, doesn't matter what it is...the internet is my drug.
I was born for this shit.
My addiction starts when I first wake up. I have to check email, then I have to check facebook, and now (thanks to my mild ocd) I have to check my blog and twitter to see if I have new followers.
Then I see that I don't, and I get paranoid... "omg, I wasn't funny enough, they didn't tell any friends about me... must... try...harder..."
Or I do have new followers, and then I'm giddy like a schoolgirl that made it out of class without getting her pigtails dunked in the inkwell that day by that dirty little bastard Timmy Malone.
But I still have to try harder. My brain starts to scramble, I sit here and thoughts race around like greyhounds chasing rabbits on meth.
"shit, what am I gonna do... I know, I'll make pies"
"w00t, that was full of win! aw shit, I have no other skills..wtf am I gonna do now?"
I become a hermit, sitting on the edge of my bed staring blankly at my laptop and mindlessly eating raspberry zingers...
empty soda cans and coffee cups arranged neatly in a row on the nightstand until there are room for no more of them.
Then I get wrapped up completely in the internet again, and my self-diagnosed agoraphobia deepens...at this point, I literally do -not- want to go outside any longer to interact with real people.
I mean, it just scares the shit out of me. Not in a "omg I can't breath" panic sort of way, but in a really weird sort of way.
The sort of way that makes it painfully obvious that people in the real world are absolute fucking imbeciles. They are. I'm not even joking.
The worst part of it is, I can't be open and honest with them in the real world like I can on the internet. It's not socially acceptable behavior.
Here, I can tell someone just how big of a douchebag (see attached picture of douchebag) they really are, and then point out 17 different reasons supporting my accusation.
If I do that shit in public, I'll get in a fight and go to jail.
Plus, people like you all are on the internet.
You bunch are INFINITELY more enjoyable to converse with than anyone I know in real life. People in real life are all like "heh heh...how about that game?"... .and I'm like " I DON'T EVEN LIKE SPORTS YOU FUCKWAD, I'VE TOLD YOU THAT LIKE 27 GODDAMN TIMES NOW!!!"
at least that's what I say in my head.
Oh oh... and people in real life... they smell.
Like some of them, they smell fucking HORRIBLE!
And half the time they do that shit on purpose!! I mean, I could understand if your plane went down and you just spent the last 65 days in backcountry hiking your way to civilization, sucking the sap out of pine cones and chewing on pebbles to survive... you might smell just a little odd.
But no, some of these people parade around in their skinny jeans and hipster glasses wearing some crap they got at the outlet mall and paid $47.00 per ounce for... and I have to stop and wonder just who in the HELL tied them down this morning and sprayed them like a feral cat with that foul smelling stench, then forced them to wander the streets like a down-on-her-luck french prostitute?
It's like they lost a bet.
Oh, and the girls.
Omg the girls these days. They actually do scare the shit out of me.
You don't know how old anyone is anymore...
I can't talk to any female in person unless she's got crows feet around her eyes, for fucks sake.
Jesus, I say hi to someone and grin... next thing I know I'm getting the partyvan on my front lawn.
It's no wonder I'm single.
Whats even worse than the girls are the boys! Don't even get me started on them.
This picture is also able to be swapped with the douchebag picture previously posted.
Ok, so I guess this went from "Twitter is for voyeurs" to "Hello, My name is Velocigoose...*hello velocigoose*" to a rant showing why my blog is named what it is.
sorry about that, I'll do better next time.
Not really a post.... yet.
It's roughly 3:30am and I'm going to bed.
This is just an update for those of you following me here, and more importantly on Twitter.
In an effort to understand better what exact purpose this meaningless entity known as "Twitter" serves humanity, I'm going to "tweet" everything tomorrow. I'm not entirely sure how long, maybe 10 hours or so? At the end of this, I'll be compiling it all and attempt to create a post here in order to decipher it... so feel free to "tweet" back, offer suggestions, and invite your friends to do the same.
http://twitter.com/velocigoose
or @velocigoose for those of you that are already on there.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
A Day of Glory aka "what would you do for a piece of pie?"
So yesterday was pretty awesome for me. Not only did I get to show off my mad baking skills, make an internet friend happy on her B-day, and gain a multitude of followers here and on Twitter... I also won the coveted Allie Brosh Birthday Award!! (known as the ABBA from now on)
What is the ABBA, you ask?
No, not those guys... although the guy on the far right looks rather serious about enjoying his tin foil speedo.
The ABBA is... well, I'm not sure what it is, to be honest. I just know that I won it, cause Allie said so... so suck on that, non-winners. /flex
The only thing left to do now is eat the pies. Being a kind and generous soul, I decided that the pies were going to work with me and I would share them... not so much because of love for my fellow minimum wage earning retail coworkers, but moreso because I knew I could get those greedy vultures to jump through hoops for free food.
All in all, out of the panel of pie tasters, I scored a 100/100. Batting 1000. A perfect 10.
I was asked why I was fixing porn laden computers instead of having my own bakery. Simply because baking is a lot of damn work, and I'm an inherently lazy individual. I would much rather sell someone a computer, fix it 90 days later because they like goat porn, then go home and play WoW and bitch about the goat porn pc's on facebook.
So, in a nutshell, I reveled in the glory that Allie Brosh has bestowed upon me... I am literally quite humbled that her, boyfriend, and 7 others have decided I'm interesting/funny enough to start following my blog/tweets. I'm even more humbled that Mrs. Macready was following me before this all started.
I love you all, I really do. And totally not in a creepy "get in the van" type of love...
I present to you, my coworker...forced to pose for a picture in his best Velociraptor stance, all for a piece of Allies celebratory birthday pie.
(and I didn't bother with the scales today, c'mon, I had pie to eat.)
What is the ABBA, you ask?
No, not those guys... although the guy on the far right looks rather serious about enjoying his tin foil speedo.
The ABBA is... well, I'm not sure what it is, to be honest. I just know that I won it, cause Allie said so... so suck on that, non-winners. /flex
The only thing left to do now is eat the pies. Being a kind and generous soul, I decided that the pies were going to work with me and I would share them... not so much because of love for my fellow minimum wage earning retail coworkers, but moreso because I knew I could get those greedy vultures to jump through hoops for free food.
All in all, out of the panel of pie tasters, I scored a 100/100. Batting 1000. A perfect 10.
I was asked why I was fixing porn laden computers instead of having my own bakery. Simply because baking is a lot of damn work, and I'm an inherently lazy individual. I would much rather sell someone a computer, fix it 90 days later because they like goat porn, then go home and play WoW and bitch about the goat porn pc's on facebook.
So, in a nutshell, I reveled in the glory that Allie Brosh has bestowed upon me... I am literally quite humbled that her, boyfriend, and 7 others have decided I'm interesting/funny enough to start following my blog/tweets. I'm even more humbled that Mrs. Macready was following me before this all started.
I love you all, I really do. And totally not in a creepy "get in the van" type of love...
I present to you, my coworker...forced to pose for a picture in his best Velociraptor stance, all for a piece of Allies celebratory birthday pie.
(and I didn't bother with the scales today, c'mon, I had pie to eat.)
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Operation: Awesome (aka Allie Brosh has a birthday)
So the buzz started about 3-4 days ago.. Allie Brosh was having a birthday. I immediately began to feel the wheels churning in my brain...wtf was I gonna do to make her smile on her birthday and maybe stand out from the crowd ever so slightly??
Easy. I'll make her a birthday pie.
You may say "but why a pie, Trav?". Well, because pie > cake.
So off I went to the store to get supplies... ez-bake pie crusts, some filling, some... oshit. I don't even know what kind of pie she likes. Back home I go and venture onto the internet.
Luckily Allie is a down-to-earth and approachable type of girl.. I mean, she's following me on Twitter, so surely I can ask a small personal question of her. I post my question on her Facebook page and wait. Then I wait some more.
Jesus H. Christ on a Cracker, is she ever going to check her damn facebook?
Screw this, I'm going to bed.
I was happy to find that the next morning, she had actually replied after apparently giving the question much thought... so off to the store I go. again.
Freshness!!
Only the best ingredients for you, Allie... pie filling is supposed to be chilled, right?
So I have a bunch more pics that I was going to make this long blog about and attempt to be humorous about it...however, I didn't cut off a finger when slicing bananas, nor did I blow up the kitchen when baking the pie crusts... I didn't even make a mess when making the meringue from scratch.
All in all it was pretty damned uneventful and boring. I failed.
So how could I make this exciting? With fire.
Me : *calls mom* "Mom? how much is a bottle of brandy?"
Mom: "why?"
Me : "I'm going to set some pies on fire in the kitchen and take pictures..."
Mom: "..."
Ok, so that idea was shot down quickly by all parties involved. So then I started contemplating how difficult it would be to just track down and set fire to Justin Beiber. I figured that would take a little too much effort, even though the idea itself would be fully embraced by the majority of the worlds population.
So, in the end, I just made the boring birthday pies... but they're Allies birthday pies, so that makes them THE MOST AWESOMEST FUCKING PIES IN THE UNIVERSE EVER!!!!!!!
And just to drive the point home of just how awesome this day really is, I've illustrated it in a personal birthday card -
so, in conclusion, I hope you've had a completely awesome birthday, Allie...and I hope that my efforts have made you smile a little brighter and know you're a little more loved than you were 10 minutes ago <3
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLIE BROSH
Easy. I'll make her a birthday pie.
You may say "but why a pie, Trav?". Well, because pie > cake.
So off I went to the store to get supplies... ez-bake pie crusts, some filling, some... oshit. I don't even know what kind of pie she likes. Back home I go and venture onto the internet.
Luckily Allie is a down-to-earth and approachable type of girl.. I mean, she's following me on Twitter, so surely I can ask a small personal question of her. I post my question on her Facebook page and wait. Then I wait some more.
Jesus H. Christ on a Cracker, is she ever going to check her damn facebook?
Screw this, I'm going to bed.
I was happy to find that the next morning, she had actually replied after apparently giving the question much thought... so off to the store I go. again.
Freshness!!
Only the best ingredients for you, Allie... pie filling is supposed to be chilled, right?
So I have a bunch more pics that I was going to make this long blog about and attempt to be humorous about it...however, I didn't cut off a finger when slicing bananas, nor did I blow up the kitchen when baking the pie crusts... I didn't even make a mess when making the meringue from scratch.
All in all it was pretty damned uneventful and boring. I failed.
So how could I make this exciting? With fire.
Me : *calls mom* "Mom? how much is a bottle of brandy?"
Mom: "why?"
Me : "I'm going to set some pies on fire in the kitchen and take pictures..."
Mom: "..."
Ok, so that idea was shot down quickly by all parties involved. So then I started contemplating how difficult it would be to just track down and set fire to Justin Beiber. I figured that would take a little too much effort, even though the idea itself would be fully embraced by the majority of the worlds population.
So, in the end, I just made the boring birthday pies... but they're Allies birthday pies, so that makes them THE MOST AWESOMEST FUCKING PIES IN THE UNIVERSE EVER!!!!!!!
And just to drive the point home of just how awesome this day really is, I've illustrated it in a personal birthday card -
so, in conclusion, I hope you've had a completely awesome birthday, Allie...and I hope that my efforts have made you smile a little brighter and know you're a little more loved than you were 10 minutes ago <3
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLIE BROSH
Sunday, May 16, 2010
This is where a title should go...
I knew this was going to be a somewhat futile endeavor... day 3 and I'm already suffering writers block.
Saturday was fairly uneventful, except for the fact that I actually spend a decent portion of the day talking to new girl. Turns out, she's not really outwardly batshit crazy, at least no crazier than any other girl I've ever talked to... which may turn out to be a bad thing, but only time will tell.
I was the only one to weigh in, since I was the only one working... I gained back 1 pound, so I was at 228 lbs. I continued to eat like a ravenous wallaby the rest of the day/night and went to bed.
Sunday came early, I woke up before 7 am for no reason other than a pounding headache. I get those frequently. Like every day, all day. I've self-medicated for the last year and a half, taking roughly 6 to 9 excedrin a day to curb the throbbing pain in my skull.
I figured I'd actually start trying to eat better today, so I only had 2 pieces of bacon and some coffee. Then got to work and grabbed a diet soda and a snickers bar. Then told my department manager to shut his goddamn face up after I'd been there about 3 hours, watching him do absolutely nothing the entire night before and all morning long..then having the balls to accuse me and a coworker of standing around and not keeping busy.
Then it was lunch time, so I took one of the cashiers out to Taco Bell and had a couple tacos. Ok, it was like 3 double decker tacos. And a caramel apple empanada.
But I did have a diet soda with lunch, so it evened it out. I weighed in and was still standing strong at 228 lbs.
Tomorrow and tuesday may be a little tough, and I'm probably not going to post until tuesday night... I'm working on a side project for my favorite internet writer/comic, Allie Brosh.
Just in case you've never read her stuff, check out her blog Hyperbole and a Half. (It's over in my links of people I follow... not literally follow, that'd be creepy)
Good Night, Mrs. Macready, wherever you are...
Saturday was fairly uneventful, except for the fact that I actually spend a decent portion of the day talking to new girl. Turns out, she's not really outwardly batshit crazy, at least no crazier than any other girl I've ever talked to... which may turn out to be a bad thing, but only time will tell.
I was the only one to weigh in, since I was the only one working... I gained back 1 pound, so I was at 228 lbs. I continued to eat like a ravenous wallaby the rest of the day/night and went to bed.
Sunday came early, I woke up before 7 am for no reason other than a pounding headache. I get those frequently. Like every day, all day. I've self-medicated for the last year and a half, taking roughly 6 to 9 excedrin a day to curb the throbbing pain in my skull.
I figured I'd actually start trying to eat better today, so I only had 2 pieces of bacon and some coffee. Then got to work and grabbed a diet soda and a snickers bar. Then told my department manager to shut his goddamn face up after I'd been there about 3 hours, watching him do absolutely nothing the entire night before and all morning long..then having the balls to accuse me and a coworker of standing around and not keeping busy.
Then it was lunch time, so I took one of the cashiers out to Taco Bell and had a couple tacos. Ok, it was like 3 double decker tacos. And a caramel apple empanada.
But I did have a diet soda with lunch, so it evened it out. I weighed in and was still standing strong at 228 lbs.
Tomorrow and tuesday may be a little tough, and I'm probably not going to post until tuesday night... I'm working on a side project for my favorite internet writer/comic, Allie Brosh.
Just in case you've never read her stuff, check out her blog Hyperbole and a Half. (It's over in my links of people I follow... not literally follow, that'd be creepy)
Good Night, Mrs. Macready, wherever you are...
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Lazy day
So no work yesterday, which means I had a chance to sleep in...until like 9:03 am, when some douchebag decided it was the perfect time to come over and trim the shrubs next door. However, I didn't realize trimming the shrubbery required a 300hp nitrous injected chainsaw.
Other than that, lazy day all around. Rudely awoken, hopped in the car and made my way to the other side of town for some errands and decided to stop by work. Told the boss I was gonna need some time off in about a month, no problems there, and decided to go ahead and weigh in again.
Boss said he'd gone to work out the night before, he looked like someone had beaten him with a ballbat. I'm not sure what Sasquatch had done, but it was probably fairly consistent with his usual routine of sitting at home listening to Rush Limbaugh and drinking cheap beer.
Day 2 results -
Sasquatch - 268 lbs
Boss - 222 lbs
Me - 227 lbs
WHAT?!? 227 lbs?
Clearly I am a master of weight loss, I went home and ate like a horse and still lost 4 pounds.
So what do all dieters do when they have a huge victory such as this? You give yourself a treat! Lunchtime was right around the corner so I figured a little extravagance was necessary... however I still need to keep on top of the game, because I'm not about to lose this competition.
*note the seriousness of how I am approaching this entire affair - you can obviously tell I'm in this to win by the fact I'm drinking a diet soda.
So, off to work this morning, will hopefully have something interesting to post for tomorrow =)
Other than that, lazy day all around. Rudely awoken, hopped in the car and made my way to the other side of town for some errands and decided to stop by work. Told the boss I was gonna need some time off in about a month, no problems there, and decided to go ahead and weigh in again.
Boss said he'd gone to work out the night before, he looked like someone had beaten him with a ballbat. I'm not sure what Sasquatch had done, but it was probably fairly consistent with his usual routine of sitting at home listening to Rush Limbaugh and drinking cheap beer.
Day 2 results -
Sasquatch - 268 lbs
Boss - 222 lbs
Me - 227 lbs
WHAT?!? 227 lbs?
Clearly I am a master of weight loss, I went home and ate like a horse and still lost 4 pounds.
So what do all dieters do when they have a huge victory such as this? You give yourself a treat! Lunchtime was right around the corner so I figured a little extravagance was necessary... however I still need to keep on top of the game, because I'm not about to lose this competition.
*note the seriousness of how I am approaching this entire affair - you can obviously tell I'm in this to win by the fact I'm drinking a diet soda.
So, off to work this morning, will hopefully have something interesting to post for tomorrow =)
Friday, May 14, 2010
Crazy Chicks, Porn, and Big Losers
Hey there. Welcome to my first attempt at blogging.
I'm going to warn you upfront that I am not in any way, shape, or form a literary genius... I do good to manage a proper ellipsis. For those of you that have no idea what an ellipsis actually is... nevermind.
So I walked into work today, walking as slowly as possible in the downpour of rain because 1) Its work. Nobody wants to go to work. And B)It was the first day of work in my store for a new transfer from some store up north. The only problem was that we were pre-warned by an ominous phone call from the store... this girl is supposedly batshit crazy. Like to the point of she goes by 2 names, one name or the other depending on the mood she wakes up in I guess. "She's bi-polar." the boss told me. "I dated a bi-polar chick for almost 2 years, this bitch is schizophrenic" I calmly replied. "Either way, we have to watch what we say around her... she doesn't take to joking, I hear." *sigh* fml.
Anyway, fast forward from that conversation up to my walking through the parking lot in the rain.
Have you ever been out and about but suddenly feel like you're being followed/watched/stalked by some lunatic with a dead bloody rabbit in one hand and a butcher knife in the other? Good. We're on the same page.
That's the feeling that overcome me as I reached the entrance, so I deftly moved off to my right and fished around absentmindedly in my shirt pocket like I was actually trying to find something while looking over my shoulder to see her approaching.
Hmm. She didn't look crazy. Just the same, I let her go in first and stood outside listening for the sound of gunfire for a couple minutes.
The first couple of hours at work were somewhat uneventful, just the normal routine. "Trucks here, get the freight" "aww, balls." *15 min later* "Tech to the front please, customer needs assistance with a computer" "aww, double balls."
There stands a well dressed middle aged professional, much like all of my customers, carefully holding his laptop in his arms. "Hi there, having a computer issue?" I asked. "Yeah, I am..(quiet tone)i think i have a virus, must have been the kids playing around"
Open computer.
Power up.
Immediate pop-ups and spam.
"You were looking at porn, weren't you?"
"What?"
"nothing... 169.99 to fix it"
"Sure, can you have it done before the wife gets off work?"
Then comes over our delivery driver, whom I've affectionately nicknamed Sasquatch. "I gotta go grab a light lunch before our weigh-in" Hmm. "Wtf are you talking about?"
"Oh, Boss and me are having a Biggest Loser contest."
"Whats the prize for winning?"
"I dunno, we haven't decided."
"I want in."
So, weigh in results are as follows:
Day 1 -
Sasquatch - 270 lbs
Boss - 224 lbs
Me - 231 lbs
Insecurity kicks into overdrive. When did I gain 6 pounds? WHY AM I SUCH A LARDASS?!? ITS NO WONDER EVERYTHING WITH A VAGINA HATES ME!!
Fast forward to end of shift, we're all hanging around the register and Sasquatch brings up my idea in the open.."We probably should have opened this to the entire store."
For those of you that have had a crazy ex-girlfriend, or even those of you that may have -been- a crazy ex-girlfriend... insert crazy look here.
New girl - "So are you saying I'm fat?"
Awkward silence ensues. I quietly leave to go home.
Hellbent on winning this contest and dropping my body weight down to a slim and sexy 190 lbs, I immediately sit down for a healthy dinner and eat 2 large poor boy sandwiches, a large scoop of au gratin potatoes, 4 forkfuls of green beans, finished with an ice cream sandwich or two for dessert.
Oh, and a diet coke. Balance is everything, right?
I'm going to warn you upfront that I am not in any way, shape, or form a literary genius... I do good to manage a proper ellipsis. For those of you that have no idea what an ellipsis actually is... nevermind.
So I walked into work today, walking as slowly as possible in the downpour of rain because 1) Its work. Nobody wants to go to work. And B)It was the first day of work in my store for a new transfer from some store up north. The only problem was that we were pre-warned by an ominous phone call from the store... this girl is supposedly batshit crazy. Like to the point of she goes by 2 names, one name or the other depending on the mood she wakes up in I guess. "She's bi-polar." the boss told me. "I dated a bi-polar chick for almost 2 years, this bitch is schizophrenic" I calmly replied. "Either way, we have to watch what we say around her... she doesn't take to joking, I hear." *sigh* fml.
Anyway, fast forward from that conversation up to my walking through the parking lot in the rain.
Have you ever been out and about but suddenly feel like you're being followed/watched/stalked by some lunatic with a dead bloody rabbit in one hand and a butcher knife in the other? Good. We're on the same page.
That's the feeling that overcome me as I reached the entrance, so I deftly moved off to my right and fished around absentmindedly in my shirt pocket like I was actually trying to find something while looking over my shoulder to see her approaching.
Hmm. She didn't look crazy. Just the same, I let her go in first and stood outside listening for the sound of gunfire for a couple minutes.
The first couple of hours at work were somewhat uneventful, just the normal routine. "Trucks here, get the freight" "aww, balls." *15 min later* "Tech to the front please, customer needs assistance with a computer" "aww, double balls."
There stands a well dressed middle aged professional, much like all of my customers, carefully holding his laptop in his arms. "Hi there, having a computer issue?" I asked. "Yeah, I am..(quiet tone)i think i have a virus, must have been the kids playing around"
Open computer.
Power up.
Immediate pop-ups and spam.
"You were looking at porn, weren't you?"
"What?"
"nothing... 169.99 to fix it"
"Sure, can you have it done before the wife gets off work?"
Then comes over our delivery driver, whom I've affectionately nicknamed Sasquatch. "I gotta go grab a light lunch before our weigh-in" Hmm. "Wtf are you talking about?"
"Oh, Boss and me are having a Biggest Loser contest."
"Whats the prize for winning?"
"I dunno, we haven't decided."
"I want in."
So, weigh in results are as follows:
Day 1 -
Sasquatch - 270 lbs
Boss - 224 lbs
Me - 231 lbs
Insecurity kicks into overdrive. When did I gain 6 pounds? WHY AM I SUCH A LARDASS?!? ITS NO WONDER EVERYTHING WITH A VAGINA HATES ME!!
Fast forward to end of shift, we're all hanging around the register and Sasquatch brings up my idea in the open.."We probably should have opened this to the entire store."
For those of you that have had a crazy ex-girlfriend, or even those of you that may have -been- a crazy ex-girlfriend... insert crazy look here.
New girl - "So are you saying I'm fat?"
Awkward silence ensues. I quietly leave to go home.
Hellbent on winning this contest and dropping my body weight down to a slim and sexy 190 lbs, I immediately sit down for a healthy dinner and eat 2 large poor boy sandwiches, a large scoop of au gratin potatoes, 4 forkfuls of green beans, finished with an ice cream sandwich or two for dessert.
Oh, and a diet coke. Balance is everything, right?
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