So... I wrote a great blog last night, in my head at around 2am, when I couldn't sleep but wouldn't chance getting out of bed for fear that I would actually stay awake all night.
I didn't get to sleep until after 4am, and had to get up at 6 to meet a friend for breakfast. I had to prop my eyeballs open with toothpicks at work today. I'll tell you about that shortly.
The 2am blog was witty and actually made me laugh so hard that I had a stomach cramp which turned into a back cramp, which made Harley jump up and bark at me because I was moving around so much. I don't remember what was so funny, though. It was something about this whole Ideal Protein Life, i.e., what I now call the Chug Life.
I call it that because Jenny (my partner in crime) and I have to chug down the contents of our packets as quickly as possible. And while we have both found things that we like, you can't just leisurely eat them, you get it done.
My puddings taste like cake mix - which I like. Problem: I now want to eat all of them immediately.
The Morning: Seagull Breakfast
At 6am, my iPhone started blaring "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy. I used to love Loverboy. Now I hate their guts because they wake me up every morning. Poor dudes, it isn't their fault but I'm blaming them anyway.
I found myself almost hating John Lennon for awhile, and realized it was due to "Imagine" being in rotation on my alarm, so I quickly switched it out. That's too cozy of a song, anyway, to be trying to open my eyes to... 'imagine'... alright *snooze*
I pressed the snooze so often that I eventually heard Loverboy, Rihanna and Lady Gaga before I could get up. That was at 6:35. I had to meet my friend at 7, and still had to feed Harley, as well as shower & dress then drive myself to breakfast. No worries: I'm skilled at getting out the door in 30 minutes or less.
I got to my door and realized how cold it was: -27 or something. And it was dark. Cold and dark. So, while I try to be patient and remember all the good things about FM, the one thing that absolutely drives me through the roof is the cold. And I can handle one (darkness) or the other (cold) by itself, but both at the same time nearly gives me an apoplectic fit. It makes me want to scream/yell from the very bottom of my guts. *curse words*
We finally got our plates of food. I had eggs, pancakes, bacon and sausages, none of which I am supposed to have on the Chug Life plan. Jenny texts at 7:45, approximately 5 minutes after we start eating..."You know this thing starts at 8:00 right?"
I nearly swallowed my entire pancake whole. "WHAT? I thought it started at 8:30!"
Waitress returns 5 minutes after dropping off food: "How is everything?"
Me: "Can we have our bills?"
Waitress: "Oh. OK." *walks away in dejected silence*
Me: *folds a pancake and puts it in my purse*
haha I'm just kidding about the pancake - I finished my strip of bacon, the pancake and an egg while I was waiting for her, then gulped down half a glass of water and we were out the door, off to Jenny's house.
We paid before we left but Lindsay said, "I always wanted to do a dine & dash - we totally could have just done that. But we never could have went for breakfast ever again. Plus I would have felt guilty and would have gone back to pay."
Meanwhile, I was still chewing eggs and bacon and nodding in agreement.
Why do I always have to eat like a seagull: gulping everything, never chewing? For the love of all that is Holy, no wonder I have to go on a liquid protein diet - everything in my guts is all in lumps. Instead of digesting, my stomach is just storing stuff in huge chunks in various places. An egg here, pancake there. Bacon strip tucked behind the spinal cord... that might come in handy later.
As Jenny said, because we were going to be late, I was trying to beat it to her door and then across the world to Timberlea to get to Trinity, and Jenny asked if I had winter tires.
"All season, I think, why?" I asked in return.
"Well, since we are Ricky-Bobbying it the whole way there, I am hoping we are safe."
We were safe. We arrived alive, and in time for work.
The Work Day
It was a long day. We were starving. Our arses hurt from sitting on hard chairs. We didn't get to drink a coffee first so it was rough going for awhile.
At one point, Jenny (unintentionally) almost kicked a woman sitting in front of us in the back of the head. First, she leaned over and head butted the woman as she was trying to get something out of her purse, for which she apologized but sounded so damned sarcastic that it made me laugh and I just had to point it out. I was trying so hard not to giggle.
Then Jenny was trying to get comfy in the hard chairs, so she whipped her right ankle up on her left knee, and it slipped. And her UGG boot went whipping forward at MACH 3 toward the woman's neck. Everything kind of slowed down for a moment and after the, "Oh, sorry." in that tone of voice, I could only imagine what a kick to the back of the neck would be like. I was frozen.
Then, like an old-school Patrick Roy, her hand shot out and saved the day. She snatched her ankle before the foot could do any damage. I thought for sure we were going out of there in cuffs today.
And then I got the giggles as we stared at each for a few seconds in terrified, ecstatic horror.
How bad would that have been?
"Oh, sorry. Again. I didn't mean to head butt you from behind or kick you in the neck."
Like seriously, who ARE you? A savage ninja who wants to attack in secret and then deny it.
AND... why in the love of God is it so difficult to be normal in Church? I KNOW I'm not supposed to laugh, I know it's an important ceremony, I know, I know, I know. I served on the altar, I read for years, so I know! But as soon as church starts, the Cheshire grin starts, too. If Jesus himself walked in and ripped apart every fiber of my being, every little one would have "Won't laugh in church" stamped on it... then put me back together and BAM: Cheshire grin.
I wanted to go to the Chug a Lug Shack and get weighed in as soon as possible because I figured going home would put me into a narcoleptic coma and I wouldn't come out to get weighed if I went home first. Whenever I sit still for too long, I have to fight off the Sandman. I need to keep moving around or there is a very good chance that I am going to fall asleep.
So we went to get weighed in. The lady thought we were insane.
I lost 4 & 1/2 inches BUT gained 3 pounds (seriously - too many crackers and ginger ale). I have to lay off the crackers. They are getting locked away. Crackers are only for birthdays and special occasions now.
Best news of the day, though: the lady there thought Jenny and I were 23-24 years old. She almost lost her glasses when I told her I was 34.
We told her we loved her. I think she just thought we were immature. Whatever. It's all good.
So, this evening I did really well on Chug Life. Had chicken salad and pudding for the old din-din. It's gonna work. Harley wants to fight me for my chicken and puddings. He even wants the spinach. What a savage.
Yesterday, I fell asleep in the bathtub while reading. I wrecked another book. It was floating around and woke me up. This evening, I woke when my arm started hurting - I fell asleep playing solitaire on my iPad, scrunched into the side of the couch. Harley was wrapped around the side of my neck, much like a neck pillow, and my hand was twisted sideways under the iPad.
Setting the alarm clock only so I can have the satisfaction of turning it off and going back for a nap
Yeah I'll be snoozin' on the weekend!