Thursday, February 16, 2006

I'd just like to add:

my lunch today is a delicious combination of Harvest Cheddar Sunchips and M&M's.

Tourino what?

So, the olympics? meh. My roomie says, "no one really cares about the winter olympics, unless they're in america." and he might be right, because I sure don't. I don't get the appeal in watching people do shit in the snow. Mostly because I hate snow and don't even want to watch it on tv, let alone have to imagine myself all...covered in it. Uck.

And it snowed in PA this week. And I've been wearing jeans to the office and changing here, because I don't want to ruin my nice, pricey work pants with road salt, and the general filth sludge that's about now. So tuesday, I go to change my pants to jeans to head home. I come all outta the bathroom, and go to pull my pants up in the back. (i have no booty. some jeans tend to get real droopy on me in the posterior region.) except that I don't grab my jeans, I grab my thong.

and give it a good, hearty tug upwards.

They call it butt floss for a reason, folks. And in telling some people this story, I realized that, while it's funny on it's own merit-that I wedgied myself-it's even funnier when you know it's a thong, but then there's some people that I just do not want to know that I wear thongs to work. Or ever. Or ever to think about my underpants in any context, except it's too late.

Internet, welcome to my undies!

Monday, February 13, 2006

oh, god, the agony!

I have a tip for you, kids. Even if you haven't had a good shit in a week, laxatives are NOT the answer to the problem. Probably some metamucil, maybe some prunes; but for the love of all that is holy, DON'T TAKE THE "GENTLE LAXATIVE". gentle, my ass.

LITERALLY, my ass. I can't stop pooing.

of snow and ghosts

The ignance of the icy sidewalks as I walked to work was highly ignant.

there's three things I'm scared of. Bees, tornados, and icy sidewalks. So I carefully crept my way to the subway this morning. Saw a truck get stuck trying to park. And didn't fall once, although it was close a couple of times.

and snow weekend was AWESOME. I got whupped in scattergories, farted on by my cat, ate a half a box of cookies, and generally lazed around. Saturday was also, apparently, Zombie Movie Day on the Sci Fi channel. I <3 zombie movies. LOVE ZOMBIE MOVIES! so I was in heaven and made my roommate watch coolass zombies all day. Except for the part where I had dinner with my parents. No zombies then. Just pancakes.

Also, my apartment. Is haunted. I'm pretty sure of this now; once before, I heard someone coming up the steps at midnight, on a friday, and thought nothing of it-thought it was my roommate coming home to pick something up before he went out to stay at his mom's for the we weekend. So, he comes home on sunday and I'm all, "Y'know, when you came up on friday, you should've knocked on my door; I was still awake." His response? "I didn't come home on friday, I went straight from cocktails to my mom's house," which, man, I was scared. But not really. It's not an intimdating kind of thing. Ok, so fast forward a few months to Saturday night. I decide, around midnight, to go to sleep. and I hear this repetitive creaking on the steps-the middle one, if my roommate (who is a bit larger than me) steps on it, it's a pretty loud creaking. Me? Not so loud, but still a creak, and the cats don't make a noise at all. So I hear this creak, creak, creak for about an hour, and I'm thinking "that jackass. he's like, working out, or something, and being loud on the stairs." Which is all I think, because 1)it sounds like someone treading repeatedly on the steps, which I KNOW what that sounds like, and b)I'm not thinking "ghost", I'm thinking "ignant ass roommate". Sunday morning comes, and as I'm doing dishes, I ask him about his apparent midnight exercise routine. BUT!!! he tells me, "I went to bed right after you did." he didn't hear a thing; just the cats being annoying.

but if he wasn't on the steps, *insert scary music here* THEN WHO WAS?!?

Friday, February 10, 2006

I hate fridays anymore

I'm also amazingly frustrated with my body. I now have these birdy little wrists and ankles. It looks various parts of me are about to snap off and blow away in this coldass philadelphia winter. Newly coldass. I want the WARM back, dammit, and now they are spouting some ignance about a noreaster on the weather stations. I'm bout to be all, "fuck you all, I'm moving to the OC." except they don't take fat people in the OC, I don't think. I think there's a weight limit. And if you're over the weight limit, you have to have a brazilian dollars. Which I don't.

and anyway, I do love the philadelphia, dirty and crime ridden though it may be.

at least it ain't camden, yo.

also, I can feel the poop in my stomach. and I can feel that shit weighing me down. but I don't think it's going anywhere, at least not soon. :(

Thursday, February 09, 2006

the cookies shall taunt me no more

because I ate them.

all of them. In the space of five hours.

I taught those girl scout cookies a lesson, yo. a lesson in digestion.

I think I am not going to poop, now, for days, due to a sugar blockage.

sweeet, sweeeet sugar.

So Here comes the honesty

I feel all...fat.

Even though I'm walking, like, miles and miles EVERY DAY. (as in, 4 miles home from work. Even the cops who are security for the filming of Rocky, which is down the street from me, by the way, were impressed with the distance I walked. I chatted with them for a bit. Then they let me cut RIGHT THROUGH THE SET, as long as I stayed on the sidewalk opposite the action. Very nice cops, they were) and I still feel chunkay, mostly because I found the perfect swimsuit that I love, but not only is it two pieces, it's two small pieces. thisbig. I'm thiiiiiiiisbiiiiiiiig. it is no good.

the thin mint I currently have dissolving in my coffee probably is not helping the gut situation.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Brutally honest?

Let's hope.

frequently updated? Not a chance.