Tomorrow, yours SuperFantabulously truly will be back on the ever loving but crack of dawn shipment team! My back is still jacked, but what are you going to do. You savor the times when you're working the fitting room and a midget and a tranny walk in that's what you do. (BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!)
More importantly, it has been decided that the SuperFantabulous clan will be fucking off, come this June to venture back to RainyTown for the summer!! On the way, we hope to see such wonders as: The Oklahoma, The Kansas (not really, those two are just totally in the way), The Colorado, The Utah (again, no way around it), The Idaho (meh). Please note: I've reached the age where adding THE to everything makes me cute and endearingly old, like a little unicorn.
After Tam's comment I feel like I'm so goddamned famous and adored, I should offer to sign laptop screens in every city I visit, but who has time for that when my new goal in life is to flash as many historical, national monuments as possible on our four-five day cross nation trek.
(I'll stock up on sharpies just in case though!)
Prepare yourself for the boob showing of a lifetime, Nation! Come June 1st (or 2nd, or 3rd who the fuck knows) IT IS GO TIME!!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Hey There Smarty
Just in case you guys totally missed it while you were doing something ridiculously unimportant, allow me to draw your attention to this comment recently posted by THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE, yo:
Believe it or not, there are thousands upon thousands of complete boners out there who have never read my blog. :(
I KNOW! It's shocking! Working together, we can put a stop to this! Tell EVERYONE to come read this stupid thing!! It gets kind of boring when you put 20 seconds worth of effort into a blog post and only ONE PERSON EVER has been so completely gushing and admiring and . . .
OH. MY. GLOB.
S/He gets it, this Tam. S/He gets me! Which totally made me wonder if s/he was real. In fact I called my sister and I was totally like, "You posted that comment didn't you!!! Are you trying to make me feel like a boner for thinking someone besides you LOVES my blog?"
She was like, " . . . what?"
I pretty much believed her confusion. I posted the comment to my FaceBook along with 'If you not following my blog, you a sucka!' Lot's of people 'liked' my status of Tam's comment plus my comment of them being suckas because I'm betting my blog is probably kind of annoying to most of the people on my facebook, given that they are people who have deep personal knowledge that I am most definitely for real.
So, dear Tam, waste lots more time. Encourage all your friends to waste time. Be sure to not miss the time I yelled at three random people in Spain. The time got all postal on a postal worker. The time I showed Korean 10 year old children a massive rhinoceros boner. Cause they all would probably be like, 'Yeah, she's for real and we kinda wish she wasn't.'
(Wow. I actually spent literally minutes of my life looking for those posts so I could link to them for you, my favorite person, Tam, but the new blogger is fucking confusing and I couldn't find any of them. I love you Tam, but not enough to spend any more time figure this shit out. Google it or something. You're fucking awesome at that.)
I just want to tell you that I just randomly found your blog by typing peanut butter diet weight loss or something like that in to google and have just wasted more time than I care to think reading through your posts. You are hilarious! Brilliant, insiring, intriguing! I love your view on life, furniture, idiots, jeggings, etc, etc and the way you write has me in stitches. I just can't work out if you are for real?? I am fascinated and will continue to read your brilliant blog. Most excellent.
Tam
Believe it or not, there are thousands upon thousands of complete boners out there who have never read my blog. :(
I KNOW! It's shocking! Working together, we can put a stop to this! Tell EVERYONE to come read this stupid thing!! It gets kind of boring when you put 20 seconds worth of effort into a blog post and only ONE PERSON EVER has been so completely gushing and admiring and . . .
OH. MY. GLOB.
S/He gets it, this Tam. S/He gets me! Which totally made me wonder if s/he was real. In fact I called my sister and I was totally like, "You posted that comment didn't you!!! Are you trying to make me feel like a boner for thinking someone besides you LOVES my blog?"
She was like, " . . . what?"
I pretty much believed her confusion. I posted the comment to my FaceBook along with 'If you not following my blog, you a sucka!' Lot's of people 'liked' my status of Tam's comment plus my comment of them being suckas because I'm betting my blog is probably kind of annoying to most of the people on my facebook, given that they are people who have deep personal knowledge that I am most definitely for real.
So, dear Tam, waste lots more time. Encourage all your friends to waste time. Be sure to not miss the time I yelled at three random people in Spain. The time got all postal on a postal worker. The time I showed Korean 10 year old children a massive rhinoceros boner. Cause they all would probably be like, 'Yeah, she's for real and we kinda wish she wasn't.'
(Wow. I actually spent literally minutes of my life looking for those posts so I could link to them for you, my favorite person, Tam, but the new blogger is fucking confusing and I couldn't find any of them. I love you Tam, but not enough to spend any more time figure this shit out. Google it or something. You're fucking awesome at that.)
Friday, May 4, 2012
Peanut Butter is Diet Food
So as you may or may not know, my close, personal friends at BodyRock.Tv, Zuzana and Freddy have broken up! As shocking as this news may be, there's more. There is a new host named Lisa Marie who is (and I didn't think this was humanly possible) more cut and has less body fat than Zuz.
I took one look at her and said, "I want to go to there."
It was time to go on a diet. I called my sister. I had a goal body fat percentage of 0% to reach and she was just the person to help me go to there.
She said something about there being 3,500 calories in a pound of fat and blah, blah, blah . . . (who has time to listen to people who know what they're talking about when you have a diet to start?)
After tuning her out 2 seconds into the conversation and performing 2 seconds of research and lot's of listening to my own intuition, I decided that high protein, low carb vegan was the way to go.
I bought a mountain of vega protein and 50 jars of Whole Foods brand peanut butter (with added fat) and guzzled them both like they were going out of style because I obviously needed at least 120 grams of protein a day and fat and calories had nothing to do with anything. Obviously.
After a few weeks, I had definitely gained muscle, but I did not look like I was anywhere near my goal of 0% body fat. In fact, I looked like I might have gained a few percentage points.
I consulted my sister again.
She said something about there being 3,500 calories in a pound of fat and blah, blah, blah . . .
"But carbs and protein is all that matters, right? Can't you just be low carb and not worry about calories?"
"How many calories are you eating?"
"Why does that matter?"
Sigh. "Because there are about 3,500 calories in a pound of fat and when you burn off 3,500 calories you will lose a pound of fat, blah, blah, blah."
Whatever.
I reluctantly calculated my daily caloric intake. WHAT A DRAG!!! Keeping track, adding up! SO ANNOYING!
After several days of calculating, I discovered something shocking: Peanut butter (especially the kind with added fat) has A LOT of calories. Who the fuck knew?!?!
I consulted my sister again.
"So I just ate 1,800 calories worth of peanut butter and a bunch of other stuff so I've eaten way over three thousand calories today. Is that going to make me gain weight?"
Sigh. "If you eat more calories than you are burning, you will gain weight."
"Really?"
Sigh. "Yes."
So I limited my peanut butter to a quarter cup a day and did some other stuff that I was pretty sure would work.
It didn't.
I called my sister. She didn't answer.
Luckily, since I was dieting, it seemed appropriate that I become completely OBSESSED with The Biggest Loser. Ten seasons in, I finally came to a realization: If you burn 3,500 more calories than you eat, you will lose a pound of fat!!
OMG! Suddenly it all made sense!! I had to burn 3,500 more calories than I ate and I would lose fat!! Is it really that simple? YES! WHO THE FUCK KNEW!
Enter a calorie counting app loseit.com (because there was no way I would be able to constantly figure this shit out on my own). I entered my weight, my goal weight, when I want to reach my goal and magically my daily caloric goal appeared! I add exercise and food and it tells me how many calories I have left to eat each day! Yay!
Now, let's all ignore that fact that I don't actually want to look like Lisa-Marie. If I were that skinny I'd be waaaaaay too self conscious to let anyone see my ridiculously tiny body. However, I did buy a pair of un-returnable jeggings from FuckingCapris at a damage discount of 50% off that might be just a little too tight. So yeah. That's what all this is really all about. Fuck off. I'm cheap and I will wear those goddamn jeggings!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Fetuses Beware!
(My Teen insisted I add context to this: We were watching the Daily Show coverage of the republican nomination).
Me: Do you support a woman's right to choose?
14 Year Old: Um . . . I guess.
Me: Baby killer!
Her: Wait. What are we talking about?
Me: What did you think we were talking about?
Her: The presidential election.
Me: Wait. So you're not convinced women should be allowed to vote for president?!
Her: What were you talking about?
Me: Whether you think women should be allowed to get abortions.
Her: I think most people who are pregnant should get an abortion.
So there you have it. Not sure women should be allowed to vote, but totally in favor of frequent forced abortions!
Me: Do you support a woman's right to choose?
14 Year Old: Um . . . I guess.
Me: Baby killer!
Her: Wait. What are we talking about?
Me: What did you think we were talking about?
Her: The presidential election.
Me: Wait. So you're not convinced women should be allowed to vote for president?!
Her: What were you talking about?
Me: Whether you think women should be allowed to get abortions.
Her: I think most people who are pregnant should get an abortion.
So there you have it. Not sure women should be allowed to vote, but totally in favor of frequent forced abortions!
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Da Fuck?
Please tell me this is a joke? (Although, this song was basically written for me. Obviously.)
Friday, April 20, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I Maybe Did
When you're working with people, literally half your age (in the case of one 17 year old Australian American more than), one thought crawls into your head and circles around and around until you want to stab yourself in the eye with a box cutter: I'm too old for this shit.
And I am. Though, I can't say it was completely Fucking Capri's fault.
Cut to a week ago:
In my ongoing obsession with BodyRock.Tv, I have been absolutely drooooooling over one particular piece of equipment featured in the workouts (no, not the new host, Lisa Marie. A sexy, sweet Zuzanna she is not). It's an Ugi Ball. A ridiculous weighted, mush ball in hot pink. Shut up. It has a zipper, it's bulbous and beautiful and I am obsessed. Sadly, Ugi and I shall never be together thanks to the stupid thing costing nearly 200 bucks. Like I'm going to spend that much on a mushy ball? Never! Not in this lifetime!
Being perennially poor, I've learned to be resourceful, so when my plan to build one out of a dumbell, a few towels and about 50 yards of duct tape didn't quite pan out, I found a substitute. It wasn't quite Ugi, being much smaller and far less zippery and boring blue, but it would do and at 30 bucks, I was super excited to add it to my BodyRock experience. So one day after work, I decided to go to the sporting good's store next door and buy one. Did I stop to consider that I had to cary the 10 lb mushy ball the 2 miles to my apartment because AweseomCool was super unawesome in his ability to afford us two cars and took our only car to work because his work is 'farther away' and 'it would take 2 hours for him to walk?' No. I did not.
Also, I did not think about my Fake Ugi when I got a call from said Un-Awesome Car-Hogger, "I broke the water filter. You might want to buy water on your way home."
"Whatever."
So what else would I do but go buy bottled water from Whole Foods which was also conveniently next door?
As I strolled the aisles I started thinking (soooooo dangerous, I need to learn to stop doing that), "Well, I drink about a gallon of tea a day, plus we'll need some for cooking, plus we might want some for tomorrow too and look! This three gallon jug of distilled water is on sale! Yay!"
I left Whole Foods feeling I had made a bunch of right decisions that day. I mean come on, carrying a Fake Ugi and an awkward three gallon jug of water two miles? What could possibly go wrong!?
About ten steps out of the store, I realized what could go wrong: I was carrying about 30 extra pounds, awkwardly. Ten steps later I realized I had 1.99 miles left to carry said awkward 30 lbs. Ten steps later my arms wanted to fall off. Ten steps later my neck started hurting. Ten steps after that I realized I was a fucking moron and I wasn't even out of the Whole Foods parking lot yet.
Though I should have, I somehow could not bring myself to abandon my 4 dollar jug of water for the sake of, well, all my other body parts. And after a harrowing walk home in which I actually started wishing I would be approached by a kidnapper in a rape van because being kidnapped and murdered to death would be better than carrying my Fake Ugi and three gallon jug of on sale distilled water one step further, I stumbled through the door sweaty and exhausted.
Somehow I found the energy to design and carry out a workout starring my Fake Ugi. Joy.
The next day my back hurt.
A few days later, I was on shipment. Lots of bending, lifting, and many, many 'I'm too old for this shit' mumblings.
Then everything seemed to calm down, until last night. For some reason, bending to pick up a plastic hanger sent my lower back into hissy fit the likes of which I have never seen.
Last night I couldn't sleep because it pinched, burned, and stabbed pain all night. This morning I could barely crawl out of bed to lay on the floor with frozen broccoli pressed on my back.
(By the way, when suffering debilitating back pain, it is not wise to down four aspirin in quick succession if you're stomach is basically empty save for a gallon of tea, a banana, and watermelon. There will be vomit. Lots of it.)
By the grace of Zeus there was a Groupon this morning for chiropractic treatment for only 39 bucks! I went in. Everything was fine until that awkward moment when he thought I was committed to curing myself of my misalignment and not just taking advantage of a good deal. Some people just don't understand poor people. So, no, Sir, I will not be coming in twice a week at 70 bucks a pop and that thing I mumbled about 'having to check my work schedule before I make an appointment' was a complete lie.
I called and cancelled my shift tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Might have to take permanent leave of dear old Fucking Capris. I suppose that would be OK, since having worked there, my closet has become as bulging as the disks in my back. Where I once had but two, I now own six pairs of jeans. Gross.
Someone please shoot me.
And I am. Though, I can't say it was completely Fucking Capri's fault.
Cut to a week ago:
In my ongoing obsession with BodyRock.Tv, I have been absolutely drooooooling over one particular piece of equipment featured in the workouts (no, not the new host, Lisa Marie. A sexy, sweet Zuzanna she is not). It's an Ugi Ball. A ridiculous weighted, mush ball in hot pink. Shut up. It has a zipper, it's bulbous and beautiful and I am obsessed. Sadly, Ugi and I shall never be together thanks to the stupid thing costing nearly 200 bucks. Like I'm going to spend that much on a mushy ball? Never! Not in this lifetime!
Being perennially poor, I've learned to be resourceful, so when my plan to build one out of a dumbell, a few towels and about 50 yards of duct tape didn't quite pan out, I found a substitute. It wasn't quite Ugi, being much smaller and far less zippery and boring blue, but it would do and at 30 bucks, I was super excited to add it to my BodyRock experience. So one day after work, I decided to go to the sporting good's store next door and buy one. Did I stop to consider that I had to cary the 10 lb mushy ball the 2 miles to my apartment because AweseomCool was super unawesome in his ability to afford us two cars and took our only car to work because his work is 'farther away' and 'it would take 2 hours for him to walk?' No. I did not.
Also, I did not think about my Fake Ugi when I got a call from said Un-Awesome Car-Hogger, "I broke the water filter. You might want to buy water on your way home."
"Whatever."
So what else would I do but go buy bottled water from Whole Foods which was also conveniently next door?
As I strolled the aisles I started thinking (soooooo dangerous, I need to learn to stop doing that), "Well, I drink about a gallon of tea a day, plus we'll need some for cooking, plus we might want some for tomorrow too and look! This three gallon jug of distilled water is on sale! Yay!"
I left Whole Foods feeling I had made a bunch of right decisions that day. I mean come on, carrying a Fake Ugi and an awkward three gallon jug of water two miles? What could possibly go wrong!?
About ten steps out of the store, I realized what could go wrong: I was carrying about 30 extra pounds, awkwardly. Ten steps later I realized I had 1.99 miles left to carry said awkward 30 lbs. Ten steps later my arms wanted to fall off. Ten steps later my neck started hurting. Ten steps after that I realized I was a fucking moron and I wasn't even out of the Whole Foods parking lot yet.
Though I should have, I somehow could not bring myself to abandon my 4 dollar jug of water for the sake of, well, all my other body parts. And after a harrowing walk home in which I actually started wishing I would be approached by a kidnapper in a rape van because being kidnapped and murdered to death would be better than carrying my Fake Ugi and three gallon jug of on sale distilled water one step further, I stumbled through the door sweaty and exhausted.
Somehow I found the energy to design and carry out a workout starring my Fake Ugi. Joy.
The next day my back hurt.
A few days later, I was on shipment. Lots of bending, lifting, and many, many 'I'm too old for this shit' mumblings.
Then everything seemed to calm down, until last night. For some reason, bending to pick up a plastic hanger sent my lower back into hissy fit the likes of which I have never seen.
Last night I couldn't sleep because it pinched, burned, and stabbed pain all night. This morning I could barely crawl out of bed to lay on the floor with frozen broccoli pressed on my back.
(By the way, when suffering debilitating back pain, it is not wise to down four aspirin in quick succession if you're stomach is basically empty save for a gallon of tea, a banana, and watermelon. There will be vomit. Lots of it.)
By the grace of Zeus there was a Groupon this morning for chiropractic treatment for only 39 bucks! I went in. Everything was fine until that awkward moment when he thought I was committed to curing myself of my misalignment and not just taking advantage of a good deal. Some people just don't understand poor people. So, no, Sir, I will not be coming in twice a week at 70 bucks a pop and that thing I mumbled about 'having to check my work schedule before I make an appointment' was a complete lie.
I called and cancelled my shift tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Might have to take permanent leave of dear old Fucking Capris. I suppose that would be OK, since having worked there, my closet has become as bulging as the disks in my back. Where I once had but two, I now own six pairs of jeans. Gross.
Someone please shoot me.
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