Linkblog (new!) | About | Contact | Press | Archives | Links | We Covet | MamaPop | Sweet Blog | Twitter

« Reason number 536,287 why I love "The Soup" | Main | The Gender Card »

September 03, 2008

Captain America's been torn apart / Now he's a court jester with a broken heart*

Techno

I was in beautiful Pittsburgh, PA over the holiday weekend, visiting the delightful kdiddy and family. My "Life Is A Teachable Moment" takeaways from that three-day visit include:

  • A fuller, more visceral comprehension of my inability to drink hard liquor in any substantial quantity, even when mixed with tasty, alcohol-flavor-masking pomegranate syrup, because I'm so totally a pathetic old fart now, OMG
  • An understanding that being on the internet as much as I have been lately (see: most waking hours most weekdays) leads to psychosis, boils, and ultimately death (or at least some kind of festering soul-death), and that I must develop all-new boundaries to combat the inherent crazy
  • I (again) need to lose weight (again), and am newly committed (again) to doing so (again)

The first bullet point... well, that's just me being dumb (shocker!). I should know better. If nothing else I should, at this wizened, ripe old age, at least know to hydrate. But of course I didn't, leading me to come to a point during one especially socially lubricated evening where I truly felt as if an IV had been stuck into my arm and reverse suction throttled so that every drop of moisture present in my body was sucked out, leaving a dry husk vaguely resembling a human body behind. I found myself compulsively getting out of bed every five minutes or so throughout the night, so parched I gulped tall glass after tall glass full of Pittsburgh City Tap Water (there should be some kind of "I Survived..." T-Shirt for that. I courted death drinking Pittsburgh tap water and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!) Note to self: Wine and vitamin water. Look into it.

The second bullet point will very shortly be addressed by interweb guru and evil genius Gwen Bell (and by "evil" I mean "awesome," much like how the kids (and Michael Jackson) used to refer to something good as "bad" back in the day). We're collaborating on a series of posts I like to call "The Social Media Zombie Ate My Brain: How To Wrestle Your Soul Back From The Gaping Maw Of Interweb Timesuck." (that was the title I proposed for the series when Gwen asked for my input... how much money you wanna lay down that she DOES NOT use that title?) (Relatedly, because I know you're a gamblin' sort, how much do you want to bet that I continue calling the series that, and in fact obnoxiously go out of my way to reference it as "The Social Media Zombie Ate My Brain: How To Wrestle Your Soul Back From The Gaping Maw Of Interweb Timesuck"? "TSMZAMBHTWYSBFTGMOIT" for short, of course. I mean, it has a certain ring to it, right? Kind of rolls off the tongue...) Anyway, basically I'm her willing guinea pig -- I'll be trying out different solutions to various internet-related/time-management/timesuckery-type problems, reporting on what works and doesn't, all under her firm but gentle guidance. Sound interesting? You bet your sweet ass it does.

That final bullet point epiphany came after lounging around and being idle for three days, while eating Vacation Food (see: food I would never eat during my day-to-day life (think Blooming Onions and Pizza visibly dripping with grease), but will greedily gobble up in mass quantities once at a Vacation-type distance from my home). It's like once I'm a few hundred miles away from my "real life" calories no longer matter. As if when I'm elsewhere, I somehow think that shit doesn't count. Like my fat cells are sitting back on my couch in Baltimore waiting for me to return, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm off in some distant city, shamelessly galavanting with Boston Creme Pies and Krispy Kreme Donuts.

That reminds me of Louis CK's bit about hating skinny people:

"I hate skinny people because they don't empathize with fat guy problems. You ever have a skinny friend and you're trying to tell them, I wish I could have one donut and fucking walk away, I wish I could do that. I wish I had the power...

And your skinny friend is all [high, thin voice:] 'Well, just eat the donut, what's the big deal? Just have a donut, totally, if you want one! Just totally have a donut and enjoy yourself if you like them...'

Fuck you, you don't get it. It's a whole spiral that begins with a donut, and later I'm killing hookers and I don't even remember what happened."

Yeah, that's totally where I'm at. And I need to stop giving in to temptation and killing hookers.

So, with no fanfare -- no Weight Loss Challenge or taunting double dog dare to you, the people -- I'm throwing myself headlong back into serious dieting. My plan is to do Weight Watchers religiously and just exercise as much as I can. That's it, that's The Big Plan. And yeah, I'm might fail. I might epically FAIL! I've failed before, I'll probably fail again, I'm a failure and quite frequently full of fail. GRANTED. But you know what? I'm going to keep trying, again and again and again, and at some point this shit has just GOT TO stick. I believe that, in spite of all signs pointing to FAIL. After all, I've done it before, so I know I CAN do it again (the losing weight, not the failing, though I'm very good at doing that). I just need to stop fucking around and being such a pussy about it. Which I will. And soon. I hope. [squinches eyes closed, crosses fingers and toes]

Oh! I also started reading the new Guns N' Roses bio over the long weekend. I'm about three-quarters of the way through it as of last night, and I feel confident in saying that I now know more about GNR than a good woman oughta. I was never a fan of their music, and I'm certainly not starting now, but I find them pretty fascinating as a specimen of the 1980s, in a Thrill of Glam-Rock Victory vs. Agony of Glam-Rock Defeat VH1 "Behind The Music" sort of way. And yowza, they DO NOT disappoint with the crazy, let me tell you. THROUGH READING THIS BOOK, I HAVE NOW ACHIEVED MAXIMUM SCHADENFREUDE. WHEE! Thanks, Axl Rose! (Also, who would've ever guessed Slash was the articulate diplomat of the band? ZOINKS!) (Again: I know too much. I must be stopped. My apologies.) (HALP! 80s hair metal ate mah brains!) (Mmm... braaaaaains.)

. . . . . .

*GN'R, "Paradise City"





Comments

Read The Comments Policy
StumbleUpon Toolbar


« Reason number 536,287 why I love "The Soup" | Main | The Gender Card »