I can’t believe it’s not budder.

January 7, 2007

Something weird is happening. I’m writing things in odd ways. For example, “wonce” instead of “once.” Is it because I’ve been reading a lot of Eben’s “dedly” writing?

Or could it be…a brain tumor? No, no. Let’s talk about something else.

In other news, I just found out that a little pat of butter contains 100 calories! 100 calories!!! Pass the crack, I think it’s better for me.

When I smoked, the most precious time for me and my little nics was in the morning, over coffee. That was all I had for breakfast. I know, I know…ew. But who hasn’t been in a bad relationship? 

Since I’ve given up cigarettes, I’ve taken up breakfast and what I’ve really come to enjoy is a bagel with butter that I dunked in my sweet, oh so sweet, coffee. It was great! Simple pleasures, right? Yeah, me and Paris Hilton.

But now I just discovered that my little ritual is costing me 400-500 calories, not counting (why was I just suddenly convinced that the word counting had an apostrophe in it? I’m dying.) the calories in the massive amounts of sugar I put in my coffee. This means, God’s children, that all of my exercising…my sweat, my toil…doesn’t even undo the damage I’ve done eating a breakfast I wasn’t even hungry for in the first place! How did I miss this butter thing? During my short stint modelling, I had an anorexic’s awareness of calories, but I don’t remember this butter nightmare. I must have avoided butter altogether.

So I’m getting fat on butter-saturated crumbs. Meanwhile, I have two runner friends who seem to be able to put anything into their perfectly sculpted faces and it turns into beautiful, marble-like flesh, whereas I put rice cakes in my maw only to have it turn into marshmallow fluff on my thighs.

I hate runners, I hate the butter industry, I hate mornings.

 I still like coffee though, and I’m working really hard to convince myself that some Pollander’s Allfruit is just the yummy goodness I need to greet the day.

Oh, PS- My neck is better! Yay me!!

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Pain in the neck

January 5, 2007

I have this really weird thing that happens to me sometimes (like now, for example) : My neck spasms for no particular reason and then I’m stuck in a position that has me looking at my left foot for about 3 days if left untreated. Exciting as my left foot is, I’ve elected to do this instead. I just spread out on the couch and put a computer between my face and my left foot….simple.

I know you’re thinking, “Oh good! It’s about time she blogged!” I’m really irritated, too, because this neck bullcrap has gotten in the way of my writing my note to the horse-poo simpleton. Also, it was a fantastic day today, temp-wise. I really wanted to be out there, burning some calories by leaping over dung heaps like so many hurdles. I guess this just isn’t my day.

Instead, I hung around the house in excruciating agony. At one point I wanted to get off the couch but my neck had frozen in the position it was in and every time I tried to move it, tears kept trying to jump from my eyes.  <Blatent attempt at sympathy>

Also, I discovered that while a 12 week old German Shepherd puppy may be wonderful in general, it is an ASS PAIN if you can be pain free only when looking at your left shoe.

The eldest Corgi (makes him sound more dignified than he is considering lately he’s been walking around with poo stuck to his butt….WHY IS IT ALWAYS ABOUT POO LATELY?) can go upstairs but is too scared to come down. Well, he ran upstairs an hour ago, but my neck (and the fact that he’s got poo-butt) prevents me from carrying him down. I guess George will have to do that (heh!)  after he comes home with Taco Bell (Shut up. Taco Bell is calorie-free when your neck is in spasm. Look it up.)

So I was watching this show on National  Geographic and I realized that, although I loved them as a kid, I now think they’re terrible.  Anyone who believes in some sort of sweet natured lovable God should watch these fuckin’ things. Seriously. Either the baby zebra is horribly mauled or the baby lion starves to death. Survival of the fittest is right. Pretty terrible. I actually found myself feeling sorry for an ant who was being tricked and then eaten alive by some sort of grub-looking creature. Bah. Now I’m really really depressed.

Oh goodie. George is here with Taco Bell.