Posts from — August 2009

I just finished my third 32 ounce bottle of water. That’s 96 ounces and it’s not even 2 p.m. You’re probably wondering what I hope to achieve by doing this. I hope it either A. causes me to pee a few pounds so I can get skinny or B. results in a water overdose, which seems like the most pure way to leave this earth.

Last night, after indulging in a pitcher of sangria, I allowed a friend to convince me to eat french fries and a bean and cheese burrito at 2 a.m. — from the 99 cent menu at Del Taco no less. THAT’S 700 CALORIES!! Eating fast food makes me feel almost as guilty as making fun of fat people, which I’m trying really hard not to do.

I just made a huge mistake…I drank 8 oz. of wine and smoked three-fourths of a cigarette on an empty stomach, which caused me to vomit the wine. Wait, that’s a good thing. YAY ME!

Note: This is not a recommended diet plan.

My boss heard a violent growl from my stomach yesterday and later described it to some of my coworkers as sounding “like some kind of zoo animal.” I was mortified, and I wanted to say it sounds like a zoo animal because my hunger is a fucking caged beast.

Dear God,

I’ll promise to believe in you if you’ll promise to keep me from ever looking like a woman I saw on the street today. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera on me, but this rendering should give you a rough idea of what I’d like to avoid. Please note that you did not make me an artist, so you have only youself to blame for my shitty drawing. Also note that my problem is with sagging boobs, not boobs in general.   

I look forward to speaking with you at your earliest convenience. 

Yours truly,

Skinny Lady

In an effort to prevent myself from eating lunch, I booked a last minute Swedish massage with a male therapist. Then I told him my hips were tense from yoga and gave him the okay to massage my buttocks. I haven’t thought of food in 2 hours and 33 minutes.

I inhaled the following food items in rapid succession yesterday at my nephew’s birthday party:

• a handful (possibly two) of milkduds
• several handfuls of Lay’s BBQ potato chips
• an Oreo cookie
• two vanilla cupcakes

Shameful, I know, and made worse by the fact that my husband refused all food offered his way. Sometimes you just want someone to participate with you, someone to share the guilt so you don’t feel like such a fucking pigface whore. Probably I should have thought about this before I married a monk, but I didn’t and now my fate as a pigface whore is sealed.

1 corkscrew
1 bottle of Francis Coppola Director’s Cut  pinot noir
1 red wine glass

• Cut around the rim of the bottle with the sharp point of the corkscrew to remove the foil.
• Stand the bottle on a flat surface at mid-chest level and lower the arms of the corkscrew. Hold the corkscrew vertically and insert the sharp end directly into the middle of the cork. 
• Hold the top of the bottle securely and lower the end of the corkscrew with one hand. Begin turning the handle of the corkscrew clockwise with the other hand, applying downward pressure into the cork. As the corkscrew goes into the cork, the arms will begin to rise.
• Keep turning until the arms are completely raised and the screw is well into the cork. Press the arms down with your hand and lift, pulling the cork out of the bottle.
• Fill glass to the rim.
• Serve with a pack of Marlboro Lights.