I miss summer. I miss sleeping in, and I don't miss how I stay at school so long every day, always finding something else to do, somebody else to talk to.
I like being social. I don't like meetings.
I thought I lost two pounds on Weight Watchers, but then it came back. Water weight, I guess, no big deal weight, I guess. But when it said 1.6 less pounds, I was feeling pretty good. I don't understand WW. For example, I really can eat all the Fat Free Cool Whip that I want, according to the plan. But Cheerios and Fruit Loops have the same point values? I don't understand that.
But I've been sticking to plan. Eaten a lot of vegetables lately, actually. Ordered a salad when I was out to lunch at Old Chicago when I really wanted a big, fat thick slice of gooey pizza. I'm not hungry, but I've eaten a lot less today than I normally would've had I not been on the plan. I wouldn't have had vegetables for example, and that whole can of grilled pineapple all over my turkey burger. This is good. I wish I could look at an alternate universe and see what I would've eaten on a day like this. Much more of that candy all over the school meetings today, that's for sure. Not those damn peas.
I'm taking a break from activity today, feeling pretty guilty about it in hinsight, but on Friday I ran 4 miles, and on Saturday I ran 3 miles, and on Sunday I ran 3 miles. It all felt pretty good. I mean, your body is just like ah, yes, running. I remember when we used to do this.
Same shit, different outfit.
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Ah, yes, back to school. Yesterday, after twelve hours on campus, we came home to discover the dog had pooped bloody diarrhea all over the place. Thankfully, he spared the bed. Because then we cleaned it up, went out for margaritas, and crawled into bed at 9 pm.
How I missed you, school year!
p.s. Good job on the running! When I ran the other day, some asshole driving down the street laid on the horn. YES. I AM RUNNING. IF ONLY I HAD A BIG COOL TRUCK DECKED OUT IN STARS 'N BARS LIKE YOU.
p.p.s. Let's open a Champagne and dessert restaurant called "Stars and Bars."
p.p.p.s. On second thought, it's just going to be confusing. Lots of rednecks will show up expecting one thing and they are going to be way off our target clientele and we will lose all our money and have to drink and eat all our stock before it goes bad.
p.p.p.p.s. Yeah, clearly I don't want to be doing work today.
Ha ha Stars and Bars.
Say it with your Minnesota accent!
It could also be a place where celebrities serve you mediocre dessert, or where we take celestial beings and put them in prison.
Please come live at my house.
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