Who buys so many copies of the same issue of the same nudie mag? A pervert with an obsessive-compulsive disorder, that’s who.

F*ck dairy. 

Seriously. Just FECK IT. Right in the arse. Because that's how it makes my arse feel.

The unthinkable has happened. 

Mum is still recovering from my reaction to this piece of mail. (She has shaky nerves--I think this is largely my doing). I opened it, looked at the "JUROR" card, and said:

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And I thought I was doing such a good job of staying off the grid. I'm just going to tell them I'm a white supremacist. That got my friend out of jury duty...

Today, I cannot bring myself to get out of my pajamas. I was a PIG last night. And I had done so well on Friday, and all day yesterday. I thought I could handle allowing myself a small snack before bed, but y'all know how it is when feck-it-mode kicks in. And then today I made pancakes for the fam for breakfast. (I make the best pancakes--anyone who tells you different is a LIAR. I always make them from scratch and never from a box). 

So of course now I feel like a fat bloated mess. My stomach is all like "grblsuhgivbskjhfkdngdfbvkjxfngkxngdjubjxfhtgkbleehhh." And I'm all like nah…..

'Twas destined to be one of those weekends. On Friday I had a Wardrobe Malfunction. 

We have all done this, at times. I took out nearly every piece of clothing I own, tried everything on, had mini meltdowns every time I looked in the mirror, and eventually settled with the same outfit I always wear and left all my clothes strewn about my bedroom. 

My own fault really. I made the mistake of trying on my smallest pair of trousers just so I could assess how fat I am. 

Idk about the rest of you, but I have different levels of fat that I measure with different pairs of trousers. I own far too many pairs of jeans. If the Express size 0's are feeling snug, I am a WHALE. 

If I can't fit in the size 0's at all, chances are I will not get dressed or leave my bedroom.

If I can fit into the Express 00 Stellas, I am Acceptable. 

And then there's that tiny pair of trousers that measures your self worth and your ability to function. For me, that's the Mudd jeans, in children's size 10. 

I haven't even attempted to try them on since before Christmas, when I was still safely in the 90's. But for some reason, on Friday, I decided to try them on.

It wasn't pretty.

I did, however, manage to zip them up.

I finally got the photos from my last mini road trips developed and up on the website. Check them out--they're pretty awesome if I do say so myself. 

I'm getting depressed, because spring is coming. I don't mind spring, but that means summer is right around the corner, and I HATE THE EFFING SUMMER WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING. 

Spring will arrive early this year in the NY/NJ/PA region of the US. Like really soon. And I have never been wrong about the arrival of the seasons. (knockonwood).

Hope y'all are having a nice Sunday. Imma try and motivate myself to get to the gym. 

...any minute now...

...

We have such sights to show you...

Sorry I've been so slow with commenting. I'm reading, I promise. <3 Boss just got back to the office Tuesday after a week off for shoulder surgery, so of course I've been ridiculously busy at work while he tries to catch up. And I'm doing my best to catch up with everyone here...


I need to just not go on eBay. I was doing so well with avoiding overspending! I have not purchased clothing in MONTHS. Like around Thanksgiving, I think was the last time I bought any clothes. This is some kind of record. 

I just got this from eBay:

'Tis now hanging on my wall.

The lengths I go for my various obsessions...

They just had an ad for the 11:00 news--big topic is Manorexia.

My weight will not budge. I need to boost my metabolism. That means I need to eat more. 

Excuse me while I go cower in a dark corner. 

If I can calm down long enough to ingest more calories every day, I might try it. More HEALTHY calories--veggies and lean meat. This does not mean I can eat more crap, like cookies and cereal and fiber bars and ice cream. I may have 2 or 3 of those snacks daily, not to exceed 300 calories. And at the gym, I must burn off all of the calories from those snacks (plus a few hundred more...).

If it helps with not bingeing on the weekends, it should be worth it. 

I spoke to my old college roommate recently, and we reminisced about the insane year we had living together. The school year of 2003/2004, I lived with him (Damo), my ex-boyfriend (Aa.; we parted on good terms, obvs), our friend the Dancer, and her boyfriend, B. All of us art students, all of us partiers.  I don't think I was sober that whole year. And I got all A's and B's in school (I was a film major that year). At any given time, you could find one of us smoking or drinking us just being insane in the living room. And at any given time, we had some random dude living on our couch. 

Ben was the best couch-dweller. While we were in class, he cleaned the apartment, made our beds, cleaned the bathrooms, and cooked for us. It was friggin awesome. We kept him there for like 3 months. 

So I was on the phone with Damo laughing about all the madness, and he brought up the Time We Ruined His Life. 

Damo went through a dry spell. For months he had no dates and no flings. He had gone through a long line of awful girlfriends before that. He started to get depressed. And then he met a really nice, sweet girl and one Friday they went out on a date. They had a lovely time; and unlike his last bunch of girlfriends, she did not seem like a psycho, a bitch, a drug addict, or a slut. Damo really liked her, and thought he would invite her back to the apartment after their date, so she could meet us and hang out for a while. 

I don't know what got into the rest of us that night (Myself, Aa, Dancer, and B). Perhaps we just drank too much, Perhaps we were just smoking some really potent stuff. Or perhaps there was a full moon. Whatever the cause, we all got pretty retarded. And at some point, the other three decided it would be a good idea to strip me down to my undies, tie me to the futon with the cables from the TV, and do shots of Grey Goose out of my belly button and cleavage. 

And then Damo and his date walk in. 

I tried doing an MS Paint picture of this scene, but I have failed miserably. I cannot capture it well enough to do it justice. 

But OMG you should have seen the look on that poor girl's face. Turns out she had been raised very very strict Christian, with limited exposure to the real world, never mind the world of Sodom and Gomorra that existed in our apartment. 

She never spoke to Damo again. 

At least Damo can laugh about it now. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From one of my fav movies: Drop Dead Gorgeous. Denise Richards' quote in the middle of the clip makes me lol every time...