The point where I should start dieting

In early 2006, almost 6 years ago, I was living with my friend Jimmy.  I had a scale I often didn't use that stayed in the kitchen most of the time.  It was stepped on occasionally.

This was the greatest scale of all time.

It had been broken for quite some time, and I knew this but didn't want to admit it.  The scale, no matter what you did, told you that you weighed less than the time before.

This was a great trick.  It's not like it made you 20 pounds lighter than whatever you were before, I mean you could gain weight in that scenario.  No, it simply kept telling you that you were losing.

This was awesome.  I could tell I was gaining weight, but my scale kept saying I was losing pound after pound. I was living the golden life of deniability.

Then one day it got absurd, and I began losing 10 to 15 pounds every 5 minutes.  It became a game to see how little we could weigh after eating another bite of Taco Bell.  I gave up on the scale, went to the store, and purchased a new pink one that proclaimed to give money to some women's breast cancer thingy, but was really purchased because it was the cheapest one there was.

I remember Jimmy weighed in at 227, and I weighed in at 235, and much to my dismay Jimmy actually lost weight after that by jumping up and down and parading around the room while doing some obese victory dance.

"Man, I need to lose weight.  I need to get serious, and it needs to start right now," I thought to myself.

5 years later I had gained 50 pounds.

Within a few months I lost 50 pounds.  I am now back to 235.

Which means I need to lose weight.  I need to get serious.  And I need to do it right now.

P.S. Yes I am aware I have yet to write about the couch to 5K, but that's cause I had an actual story to tell with 235.  Maybe at 230 I'll have nothing to say and can tell that story, which is still ongoing 3 days a week.

Equaling a Hero

You thought I was dead didn't you?  You have noticed that Lily hasn't updated since her diet pills turned her into a man, and you have noticed that....the other one...whose name currently escapes me...the Spanish chick...well she has never gotten on here to tell you about the Couch to 5K like she said she would.  Well, she has a good reason for that.

She is a failure.  I guarantee you the closest she has come to accomplishing the Couch to 5K was when she met the goal of getting from her couch to the 5 layer chocolate cake in her fridge.

I had no idea what kind of failures I would be creating this blog with.  Who knew if you grabbed a bunch of random people from the Internet that they were bound to be losers?  Strange.

Anyway, here is why you haven't gotten an update from me since I passed the 250 threshold:  I was out of town when I crossed 245.

But I am back now, and I have made it to 240 (actually 238 as of this morning).  I am in the 94th percentile in weight and I am completely kicking butt in keeping this up.

There was some exciting news along the way.  I am now classified as Obese Class 1.

CLASS 1!  The lowest level of obesity!

Here is a description of what Class 1 means, as according to http://www.bmi-calculator.net/

BMI is between 30-34.99 (Obese Class 1)
Individuals with a BMI of 30-34.99 are in a physically unhealthy condition, which puts them at risk for serious ilnesses such as heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, gall bladder disease, and some cancers. This holds especially true if you have a larger than recommended Waist Size. These people would benefit greatly by modifying their lifestyle. Ideally, see your doctor and consider reducing your weight by 5-10 percent. Such a weight reduction will result in considerable health improvements.

Isn't that awesome?  It's extremely inspiring.  Basically, what that says is that I am going to live to 100.  Really. If you read the description for Class 2 it will tell you that you will probably die within the week.  Class 3, where I was when this Blog started, thinks you will perish before finishing the paragraph, and likely kill a small village as you topple over.  Thus, this is good news.

But I have even better news for you.  At 238, having passed the 239 point means that I weigh less than one of my heroes: Homer Simpson.  This really does mean a great deal for me since he has spent over 20 years enduring fat joke after fat joke, and all the while I chucked along. And I weighed more than him.

I'm thinking of looking up lots of celebrity weights to have a list of people I am passing, like your Jim Belushi's, Horatio Sanz's, and Ron Jeremy's penis's.  I'm unsure if all of those apostrophes were necessary.

Regardless, here is this weeks 240 photo, along with Homer so that you can get a real comparison.  And next time, because there will be a next time, I am going to talk about the Couch to 5K.  Because I ran it, and I succeeded.  

America 1

whatever impoverished 3rd world nation Lorrraine is from: 0

(extra r added for fatness)

I'm not doing this for me; I'm doing it for the money

Slightly Disappointing says...

249.8

Let me tell you exactly what this means to me:

Lots.

1st and foremost the company I work for doesn't want to pay medical expenses, and because they don't want to pay medical expenses they promote good health.  Part of that promotion is that if you obtain a healthy BMI you get $100 back from them.

I am about 3 kinder gardeners and a mature goat away from being a healthy BMI.

However, they have a deal for people like me.  If I lost 10% of my weight then I too would get $100.  When I weighed in last year I was 280, which means I had to get down to 252 within a year, which means, well, I'm $100 richer.  That's awesome.  Do you know how many Oreo cases one can buy with a $100?

Har. Har.

Here is the other thing, I remember living with my friend Stacey and stepping on her scale and weighing 252, which prompted a diet that if I could just lose a pound per week, I could get down to 200.  This was successful all of one week.  Point being that's the earliest I remember being above 250...and that was 5 years ago.  Let me tell you, when you weigh over 250 for that long...and eventually balloon up to 285, you never ever ever ever ever again think that you will weigh less than 250.  This is a pretty big victory for me.  I am the skinniest my girlfriend has ever seen me.

Oh, but I'll go on, every day I go to this site... http://www.halls.md/body-mass-index/av.htm which will tell you what weight % you are.  You would think the highest you can get would be >99%, however it appears as though the highest is >98%, and if you put in a gargantuan weight it doesn't even give you a statistics.  It tells you to check your inputs.  When a diet site thinks that you are too fat too actually exist, you've got some problems.

Not that it ever got like that for me.  I simply stayed at >98% no matter how much weight I've lost.  Basically if I stood in a room with 99 other 29 year old 5'10 males they couldn't guarantee that I would be the fattest person in there, but they could pretty much guarantee I'd be at least the 2nd fattest.  It's not such a great thing to think about when you start losing weigh and the site tells you Nope!  "Still the fattest!"

But now?  Oh but now.  Now I am at 98%  As in the site is pretty sure there would be TWO people in the room I could scoff at and wonder how they could ever let themselves go like that.  "You'll never catch me over 250!" I'll whisper behind their fat asses.  Besides this I think I could make fun of the people in the 1 or 2% range because, well, gross.  Really, that's all this comes down to.  Giving me the ability to judge others.

You though I was done?  I'm not.  I went to a Polynesian style dinner the other night and was encourages to wear a Hawaiian shirt.  "But I don't have one that fits" I said.  Ohh, silly me.  I hadn't worn the shirt in YEARS, however that night it fit exactly as I remember it fitting: slightly too small.  I love that shirt.  I'm going to wear it all of the time just like I did over 5 years ago.  My girlfriend hates Hawaiian shirts, but that's O.K.  as I continue to work and harden my body and get rid of the fat, well, that will just make it more likely that she will rip the shirt off of me whenever I see it.  In other words, JUST ANOTHER WAY TO WORK OUT.

O.K.  You demand a picture, I'm sure.  And I have one for you, though once again I'm certain I look exactly the same.

Here is my 275 pic and my 250 pic side by side...

Sigh....I know...no different.  Anyway, I know it's different so screw all of you.  (clearly by all of you I mean Lorraine:)

O.K. On to some serious news.  We have been joking about Bear and Wife for some time now, but unfortunately after a little internet investigation, I've learned that there actually was a tragedy.  Several weeks ago there was a major car accident, in which neither was able to survive their injuries.  News like this hasn't hit the blogosphere, I mean how could it?  But I still think it would be a nice thing if maybe someone posted some sort of tribute in the comments of their blogs.  It might mean something to those family members who are left behind to see that their gifts did in fact touch the world.  OF course you can find the links right here on the main site.

O.K.  This sappy stuff isn't allowing me to lose any weight.  Back to progress.  See you soon.

Move Over Lorraine

I don't mean to be stepping on Lorraine's toes here by posting over her, however this is my time to write about my weight loss efforts.  Please look below this post for Lorraine's efforts from before.  Because of that, I'll keep it short and sweet.

Oh and you'll notice I've added my myfitnesspal.com weight loss tracker to the sidebar.  When I started this blog I was 285, when I started myfitnesspal I was 271, so that's the reason the number is 14 pounds off.

I am at 255, and still pushing every day.

My clothes I usually wear for the photo op are dirty, so please accept this new wardrobe to show how hugely obese skinny I have become.

Do I look any skinnier?  Nah.  This is all demoralizing and pointless.  Off to Taco Bell.

The Socially Awkward Weight Loss Program

Lorraine: Apparently Lily and Bret aren't dead. This comes as a big surprise to me. I would've placed bets on the certainty of Lily drowning in a pool of vodka and Bret drowning in his own blubber. Alas, it is Bear and Wife who are most certainly dead.

No matter; we should start this post with good news. You last heard from me just over a month ago. I had ballooned back up to 148 and managed to get back down to 143. The good news is that I'm now at 139 pounds. I broke the 140 barrier.

All you other dead bloggers can eat it. And by "it," I mean whatever it is you eat that keeps you fat and gross.

I wish I had some concrete weight loss methods to share, but the truth is that my most recent success has more to do with my own timidity and social awkwardness. One component of shyness is that I hate eating in front of other people.  If I could bottle that and sell it to you guys, I totally would.

See, at my last job (Paper Folding USA) I mostly worked by myself in a corner cubicle that no one came into. When we started this blog, I discussed my third-grader eating habits- lots of refined sugar and artificial flavoring and working there didn't help my cause.

At PFA, sine I had little human interaction, I spent almost all of my lunches munching on zebra cakes or putting away trays of chocolate chip cookies, while I worked at my desk. Add to that cookies for breakfast and a skipped dinner, and you basically have my diet for the year and a half I was there.

Fast forward to my current situation, in which I am working a new (real) job that requires socialization. There is nowhere to hide my gross snacking habits. There is no way to avoid the lunch time human interaction. Everything changed and I was nearly forced into eating like a regular human being.

This probably sounds ridiculous. I know that it is.

Regardless, I did start to eat smaller portions. People made comments about how little I ate, what a small stomach I must have, and they wondered if I wasn't going to supersize or add a dessert. I answered no, no, no, more due to embarrassment than anything else. One month later, though, I've started to believe these things about myself: I can eat like a fully functioning adult, but I don't have to eat enough for 2 or 3 adults.

I guess that this was a valuable lesson to learn.

The skinniest I've ever been in my adult life was 138 and I am one pound away from it. It makes me absolutely giddy. Maybe if I jump around enough in (sexy) happiness I can shed that pound too.

My next goal is 135. I will be in Chicago in 35 days for the 20sb Summit and that is my deadline for this goal. Not at all because I want everyone to meet me when I'm unfluffy. (Yes.)

I'm not even sure this post made sense. For some reason, trying to convey that I've lost weight because I'm socializing was harder than I originally anticipated. No matter. The main point of the post was another four pound drop.

Coming up next time: My take on the couch to 5k program., which I've just started. I mean, if it doesn't kill me that is.

And You Doubted Me

Slightly Disappointing Says…

I told you that I’d be back.

Of course, I didn’t expect it to be quite this soon.  Yeah, that’s right, I’ve successfully gotten myself to 260.  Actually, to be technical about it I am at 259.8.  I HATE putting periods after decimals.

How am I doing it?  Sex, Martinis, and Diet Pills.

No, I’m just kidding.  I’m not some idiot girl from Chicago hell-bent on dieting all the wrong ways, killing my body, and causing myself to end up either with brain cancer or months of nonstop eating where I gain 45 pounds.  No one would be that stupid.

I can’t tell you how much being in the 250’s actually means to me.  I will grant you that my scale measures down to 2/10’s of a pound, so I’m as high in the 250’s as I can possibly get without going over, but well…

I remember over 4 years ago weighing 252 and thinking that if I just lost a pound a week I could get myself down 200.  It didn’t turn out that way.

But it’s amazing for me to think that I am this close to eliminating over 4 years of weight gain.  I can get myself back to where I was when I was 25, maybe younger.  It’s amazing to me to think of how long I have been this fat.

Still I eat healthy every day.  I exercise in some form every day.  I am running couch to 5K, though I am pathetic at it, and I look forward to every single day.

From a diet standpoint that is.  I couldn’t be more depressed about pretty much every other aspect of my life.  I need this.

And I will tell all of you, especially Bear if his fat hasn’t overtaken his eyeballs and he can still read this, that I can’t remember the last time I actually felt this healthy.  You can feel the difference of having actual healthy things inside of you after about 2 days.  You can feel the difference of losing a few pounds almost instantly.  And I know that the combination means that I feel a lot better going down to 259.8 then I possibly could have going up to 259.8 while loading myself with fast food and more fast food.  Even if your weight loss is as daunting or more than mine, even if you are still 90 pounds from being a healthy weight, and even then just barely, even if you never make it, losing just a little bit of weight can make a big difference.  Your quality of life changes with a 5 or 10 pound weight loss.

I’m still a hugely fat morbidly obese sick-o that disgusts anyone that has to lay eyes on me, but I’m better than I was, and these words get me through every day:

Hey, I’m better than bear.

Guess who's back?

Lily Says...

So I guess now we just post whenever we want? With no need of commentary? Well then…

I’m a diet fail.

We knew this already though. After the cleanse, I started taking diet pills. That went well… for a while.

About the third week of taking them, I had gotten used to the smaller portions of food entering my body. What I wasn’t used to was the about of pills I was now taking. I take those vitamins packet things you can get at GNC. They have all the vitamins and minerals and extras you need to be healthy. By this time, I was taking 6 diet pills a day, plus about 5 pills from the little packet and a chewable calcium pill.

I was still working at the store when I had the scariest experience with diet pills ever. Like even more scarier than the thought that you can shit your pants while on some (if I weren’t so lazy, I would link an article to prove this.. but you’re already on the internet so Google it, okay?).

I got to work, had taken my pills 20 minutes earlier, and went to go buy a Subway breakfast sammy. My boss let me sit in the back and eat my breakfast. I took my time eating, and felt super fine. I was staying hydrated, and what nots, and for some reason, once we opened the gate, I started feeling super dizzy. This had never happened before. I’ve taken diet pills in the past, one of different brand, and one of the same brand I was currently taking. I sat in the back room for the rest of my shift. Hey, at least I got paid.

I stopped taking the pills that day. So if anyone wants a half bottle of diet pills, hit me up.

Along with not taking the pills, I threw out my healthy eating mode. I also gained about 5 pounds. But at least it went to my butt and boobs, and about 1.5 of those pounds joined my mid-section.

Also, in the time we have spent apart, dear Blogging Blobs readers, I learned that I will no longer be a bridesmaid (which was the reason I had begun dieting). Depite this, I will continue to strive to be fitter, because really being tubby isn’t what I want to be. The tubby I do want to be is pregnant, and you don’t get that kind of tubby from eating (you get that kind of tubby through Cardio!).

I’ll keep you updated on my progess (of getting un-tubby).

You know, that overused Mark Twain quote

Slightly Disappointing Says...

I'm not dead, but I was probably closer to dead than most of you realized.

I went on vacation back in late March.  This won't surprise any normal readers but because I went on vacation, Blogging Blobs came to an absolute halt.

It didn't get any better when I got back.

Actually, "back" was the problem.  I got a staph infection on my back, and well, two surgeries later I'm still not completely recovered.  IT'S BEEN ALMOST 3 MONTHS.

I won't bore you with the details, mostly because I have a gigantoloctocus post going up over on my other site, but I will tell you how this pertains to dieting.

It was kinda hard to diet.

First of all, I couldn't exercise.  My sum total of actions that I was able to do over this amount of time was as follows:

1.Sit in chair
2.Eat food
3.Hand off bed pan

Even as I got better and was able to stumble around it was hard for me to lift my arms up to what I like to call "cooking food on stove" height.  It was miraculously easy, however, to receive food through windows.  Thank God I was born in these times.

I ate fast food non stop.  There were multiple times when I fell asleep eating fast food. I once saw a poll that 50% of men would take 10 years off of their life if they were woken up every morning with a blow job.  Well, let me tell you, those men never even thought of the pleasure of waking up with a half eaten double cheeseburger resting on their bulging stomach.  That's what Heaven is like.

My weight went up, and up, and up.  I know this because I had doctors appointments every few days, and they would weigh me, and even though they frequently cut things OUT of me, I was still able to put more INTO me.  This was until I got up to 281, and decided enough was enough.

That was about 3 weeks ago, when I started eating healthier because I felt like crap, and about 2 1/2 weeks ago I started exercising.  Exercising like a mofo.  And you know mofo's are committed champions of healthy living.

The result?  I'm now at 265.  And 265 means another picture.

I know the other blobs are out there.  So far as I can tell Lily continues to make commitments she can't keep, Lorraine continues to be some sort of raging Blogspot whore writing in about 95 different blogs because she thinks that Internet friends are real friends, or something like that.  The Bears continue to be depressed at their infertility by eating loads of chicken wings.  At least, this is how I imagine all of them to be.

Thus, I won't e-mail this to them, but they are free to edit/write in the comments.  They won't.  They are all failures.  If you have been reading from the beginning, you already knew this to be the case.

Anyway, 265...

Still trying to wear the same shirt.  Still don't think I ever actually look different.  This is depressing.  I'm going to go eat pizza.

I'll see you again.  I promise.

Oh!  I forgot!  I'm on a new site called http://www.myfitnesspal.com/  I realize those of you with smart phones probably have a better stuff, however this one is pretty good for tracking food/exercise.  There is also a bit of social networking.  If you are on this site, friend me.  I am "Bretsyboo."  You'll get daily updates like "Bretsyboo tried to run today"  and "Bretsyboo lost 75 calories masturbating for 2 minutes."  So it's a lot of fun, and also, 75 calories can add up.  If you know what I mean...

I Hate Success

Lorraine Says: It's no secret really that I'm basically an Internet whore. Luckily, I'm writing this entry and NOT sending it to the rest of the Blobs, who I'm pretty sure are all dead. (Actually, I think I got an email from Lily sometime last week, about being too lazy to blog on another blog we share, so maybe she's just a missing person at this point and not entirely dead.)

I say luckily because I can already hear Bret and all his "whore" jokes which morph into racist jokes which all just translate into, "I'm still a fat fuck and picking on people much, much, much hotter than me makes me feel better about myself." There, there Bret.

ANYHOW, me = loves the Internet. I have my main blog, Childhood Trauma, 2 Tumblrs, Twitter, Facebook, a (semi-abandoned) music blog, I mod at 20sb, etc, etc, etc.

And then, there is this.

Oh, Blogging Blobs. It truly is a great idea. 5 overweight bloggers doing the weight loss thing together, with some combination of humor and demotivation.

It was a good plan for me. Why? Because I really am not a fan of other people's success. I mean, not as a general rule, but especially when it comes to weight loss.

I suppose that fact has a lot to do with where I've been during this period of Blob silence. I mean, the simple fact is that writing for a diet blog is pretty difficult when you aren't dieting, ya know? There wasn't any exercise happening either.

I wish I could blame it on one thing or another, but really, all the reasons I'd gained the weight in the first place overcame me again: laziness, chocolate, busy work schedule, big life changes, chocolate, dessert, the eating habits of a third grader, and laziness.

On top of that all, people around started losing weight. My older cousin, nicknamed on my blog as Ferfer, moved back to Florida a handful of months ago. Fer is a notorious weight yo-yo-er. And I'm pretty sure she's tried every lose weight quick scheme ever.

She's also the most pushy bitch ever. I mean, I love her, but she will argue with you about the sky being purple, and not blue, if one day she decided the sky was purple.

Well, after gaining a shit ton of weight during her last pregnancy, and holding onto most of it even after her daughter was born, she decided that enough was enough and that she was going to lose weight the old fashioned way: puking and corsets.

JAYKAY. Diet and exercise.

Her pushy self went around telling everyone that they were fat and gross and that they should come to her house where every day they would be using her covered patio as a makeshift gym. My sister and my good friend Venus drank the kool-aid.

And it's worked. Sometime during my silence, these girls have been working their asses off and slimming down and toning up thanks to some workout videos and dedication.

...
...

GAG.

It's fucking terrible. Fer was after me constantly asking me when I was going to join and the more I was pressured, the more I was positively reinforced, the more I didn't want to do anything healthy.

And it worked. Any progress I made during my Blogging Blob stint was completely erased. Two and a half weeks ago, I stepped on the scale for the first time in months and I was nearly back up to my original start weight: 148.

Holy. Shit.

It felt gross. It felt horrible. And the worst part was that there wasn't even anyone around to point and laugh or make comments about how I must not be getting any Exercise or must be missing the famine part of my Ethiopian diet.

With the Blobs all dead (RIP) and my body quickly chunking up out of control, I decided to take a positive step in the right direction.

Step one: The less-of-a-fat-ass diet.

What? It was a baby step and a good one at that. Two and a half weeks later I'm back down to 143. Five pounds? That's about the equivalent of what Bear eats in one sitting, so I'll fucking take it.

It feels good to be back down, but I'm trying to ride the wave of motivation and success. Step two will be the "move-more-than-a-fat-ass" portion of my plan. I'm dying to start the couch to 5k program, with an actual 5k in mind to run at the end of the summer.

I mean, sure I keep putting up excuses like, "I don't have running shoes," or "people get raped and killed when they go out running," but maybe now that I've announced it to the entire interwebs I'll try harder to make it happen.

I'll do my best to check in this time next week.

Goal: Three pounds to 140. 1-fucking-40. I'm gonna look so hawt.

Avoid these pitfalls: My new job is located in a plaza with a Chipotles, Yougurtland and a Starbucks. WHAT THE HELL? My co-workers take field trips down to one or all of these places on the regular and saying no all the time is no fun. (Sounds like my sex life?) I've probably indulged more than I should, but for the sake of my bank account and my body, I must say no.

Do these things: I need running shoes  and OMG, where do I even start? 

For real this time guys.

For real.

The Cleanse

Lily Says: Last week, I was on spring break and decided it would be an awesome time to do a full body cleanse.

I went over to GNC and bought the least intensive looking box. I bought this on a Thursday... I started it on Friday.

Almost immediately after taking the first little packet of pills and some "probiotic" dust, I had to go empty out everything extra I've been carrying around. Perfect. At least I was at home. Came out feeling 5 pounds lighter.

The problem was that you had to do this routine twice a day. And Friday nights are Cardio nights. And problems ensued. I didn't really feel any urgency in leading up to cardio. I just kept burping alot, I do this all the time anyway so I didn't really think much of it. But as we kept going, I started feeling like I needed to go AT THAT MOMENT. I couldn't just get up and leave. I'm like a teenage boy, and have no sense of priority when I have to chose what to do first: sex, or everything else. Obviously, I chose sex.

As much as I wanted to just go to the bathroom, I couldn't. And it just kept going...

This was super hard, I was trying to enjoy the sex that was going on, but I couldn't because I started getting a horrible pain in my stomach and what I believe to be every other organ in my body. So it came down to the decision of whether I should fake an orgasm or not just to go to the bathroom.

I weighed the pros and cons of this... I had like a million cons, and only one pro.

I couldn't take the pain anymore, because for some reason, my boyfriend decided to lay directly on top of me when he was finishing... which I thought was strange. Because of that, I decided to fake it. I haven't faked it since ... a long time ago. And because I always go pee after we're done, it didn't seem suspicious.

Well, it was a waste of a fake orgasm. Because I didn't even have to empty my bowels when I went to the bathroom. I peed and farted. And not even a loud, cool smelly one. A stupid little girly one.

What. The. Fuck?!

Well, that was the same story for the rest of the seven days of the cleanse. Was it worth it? Fuck yes! Six pounds lighter. Would I sacrifice another orgasm for a fart? Yeah, probably.

Lorraine Says: Lily this disturbs all of my female sensibilities. Or something.

Mostly, it's about the grossest story that's ever been told on Blogging Blobs. This even takes into account back when Bret and Bear used to be super fond of telling us "hide the sausage" stories.

No, wait. That was grosser.

At least you know you still have the skill to fake an orgasm? I mean, no woman wants to think she's lost that touch, in case of emergency.

Six pounds though? Six pounds o' poo?
I am both intrigued and scared.

Lily Says: Well, it wasn't just poo. It was also a liver, heart, kidney etc cleanse. So there was lots of pee too.

I like to think that faking an orgasm is a good trait to have.

The good thing is this story wasnt a "sex poo" story.

Bear Says: Faking orgasms so you can fart? That's got to be one of the greatest most disgusting stories I've ever heard.

Where can I get this cleansing thing again? for a 6 pound drop I think I can do without Cardio for a few days.

Lily Says: Answer is: GNC

Push It

Lorraine Says: This week was not a great food week. I mean, there were no crazy sausage shenanigans, like the ones Bret is famous for, and I didn't drink my weight in vodka a la Lily, so in perspective, it was terrible but it wasn't great either. When I slipped up on my diet, I made it count. Cheesecake, in fact, seemed to be the theme of the week.

I only had a slice, promise. PROMISE.

But I ate all of this. Yep. All of it.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about really; I'm here today to convey to you all my strong dislike of Jillian Michaels.

See, I'm a weenie that doesn't like to work out by herself. When Rox can't gym, I might walk with Penny. When Penny can't walk, I'll go work out with my good friend Venus. Venus' poison of choice is a slew of work out videos (er, DVD's) she buys, sort of like one would buy crack. Or wait, how I would buy zebra cakes.

Anyways, whenever I'm working out with her, she subjects me to Jillian.

Now, I understand that Jillian hasn't really done anything to me, exactly, but you're also talking to the girl who's most viewed post is all about how much she hates that bitch Dora the Explorer. (I almost wrote 'Dora the fucking Explorer.' That just sounds like a terrible porn. Different sort of Cardio, folks. Different sort.)

Anyways, here's what I hate:

1.) Don't fucking tell me I'm doing a good job. I'm not sure what sort of condescending prick decided we need positive reinforcement from SOMEONE WHO CAN'T SEE US. Venus bought a new DVD the other day, a Dancing with the Stars one, and we sat on her couch eating crackers and watching it, laughing every time the dumb girl told us we looked great. Thanks lady.

2.) When she tells me to "push it." Uh, no.

3.) When this ho doesn't even do half of her own exercises and then tells me not to give up.

4.) When she is doing the exercises, and talking at the same time, not even out of breath, while I'm dying.

5.) Her face.

I've pretty much given into the fact that the morning gym will never ever happen for me. It's not the waking up, it's the getting out of bed, and putting pants on and stuff that gets to me. So, I'm going to try and do some of this Jillian crap in the morning.

Let's see how this goes.

ETA: It went for like 10 minutes before I wanted to puke. Jillian must be onto Lily's method of puke-ercise.





St. Patrick's Day Let Down

Lily Says: So it's Tuesday again.

And let me tell you about the last two pounds I lost. But I was sad about losing them.

I really wanted to go out drinking on Thursday. Because everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day. My friends and I decided that we were all going to play hookey from school and work and go to this place called the Emerald Loop.

So, I was all ready to get piss drunk.

I went to my first class because it's at some ungodly hour. Then I got a call from my friend saying she couldn't get out of work.

And then another call saying my other friend had a test in one of her law school classes.

And my other friend saying she felt like crap.

Fine whatever. But then I started feeling like crap too. Friend number 3 and I had gone out for ice cream the night before. I think we both got sick from this ice cream place *cough*baskin*robins*cough*.

Instead of drinking booze and eating corn beef hash, I was puking. I wouldn't have minded gaining 2 lbs, but apparently the Weight Loss Gods don't want me to have fun

Bret Says: Jesus Christ Lily, With how much you puke I would be almost certain that you are officially bulimic, except that bulimic people are supposed to be skinny.

I'm not saying this is a bad thing.  Puke your way to better cardio.  Especially when your teeth fall out.  It's not much for the looks department, but in other areas?  Mmmmmhmmmm.

Bret’s Addendum: oh, and as an aside:

BEAAAAAR BEAAAAAAAR, DO YOU STILL LIVE BEAR?????

Lor Says: No, seriously Lily, you puke a lot. Suddenly, that pink stain on your white shirt, way back from one of the first posts, makes so much sense. Apparently you have a hard time keeping things down or in your mouth. 

Lor’s Addendum: And my aside: BEAR WHERE ARE YOU? Also, I love that Wife comes around but never mentions Bear. She's all, "Oh I'm alive, la la la, nothing to see here."

I think Wife killed Bear. And then maybe ate him. EW. 

Wife says: Poor toothless Lily.  Not sure how you'll be able to eat empanadas now. :(

And, Bear's totally still alive...yeah, alive.  And not stuffed and mounted in the basement.  Nope not at all. *whistles and looks at ceiling*

Bret Says: I thought he was supposed to stuff and mount you?  You are totally doing it wrong.

Lily says:  Re: pic = not puke. (it’s kool-aid or red margarita mix… don’t remember it was like four years ago).

I suspect food poisoning from ice cream. Like really. And it was lots of puke. I spent most of thursday and Friday hanging out with the porcelain throne. 

PS I also have all of my teeth. 

Lazarus Bear Says: Much to the dismay of the group I am indeed still alive. Work's been really kicking my ass these last couple weeks and we've got a major release coming up next month which means work work and more work. 

PS - The stuffing and mounting in our house is totally my job.

There are some sick people out there

Witless Exposition says:

See! I'm alive, I promise!

The last couple of weeks have been surprisingly good. I've only put on a pound, and I count that as success. We've been playing tour guide this week for some friends from college. So that means we haven't made it to the gym and have eaten out for EVERY meal.

But, we've also walked all across the city, visiting what feels like every historical landmark for miles. I'm not overstating it to say we probably walked 5 miles each day.

Did I mention we ate every horrible for you but oh so yummy Mexican pastry known to man (sweet potato empanadas...mmmm)?

So even though I'm up a pound, I'm really glad that's all it is. And the crazy thing is, I'm actually kinda looking forward to going back to the gym!

Lily says:
Camote!  I love those little empanadas. Crap. Now I want like 1,000,000 of them. Fuck. I'm going to gain 1,000,001 pounds. Thanks, wife.

Just for you empanada ignorant people

Fishy Guy says:
What sick individual steals a dead girl's ID and blogs about dieting as though they are her?  This world is wrong.

 

Witless Exposition says:

Apparently it's the sick type of person that then forgets to post until three days later. 

Injury Time Out

Lorraine Says: It seems that Bret can disappear for months at time (because he's "working" or "inflating his girlfriend") and that's alright, but a few of us other blobs miss a week or two and he tries to stage a blog coup.

Even though... if I'm honest, I'm not sure Bear is coming back either. Maybe he's hibernating? GET IT HIBERNATING. Okay, sorry I'm done. RIP Bear. We'll still be around when you wake, and chances are Bret will still be fat and Lily might be drunk or crying OR BOTH.

Now for me. Where have I been? Would you believe injured? See, my last post was all about my wild success and how hard I was trying to diet and especially exercise.

A few things happened that interrupted my gym flow, and then it hit me like a tons of bricks: a sharp pain in my chest. It fucking sucks.

Whenever I say something about my chest hurting to anyone they give me wild eyes and tell me that I'm probably dying and should get to a hospital immediately. See, I've been down this road before already.

About a year and a half ago, I had the same type of pain in my chest. I went to the walk-in emergency care center by my house, slammed my fist on the reception counter and proclaimed that I was dying. The nurse up front didn't even blink an eye.

"Sign your name on the list."

"Behind all these people that aren't dying as badly as me?"

"List your problem next to it."

So I signed my name. I was tempted to write "death" as my problem, but instead settled on chest pains. I handed the death list back to the rude nurse. She glanced at it and (in my head) did a very dramatic double take.

"How old are you?"

"23."

"There's 23-year old with chest pains! 23-year old with chest pains!"

Suddenly, I was dying a lot more importantly than the people bleeding and moaning in the waiting room. I was whisked away and my vitals were taken, I was put in a room, and then I waited. And waited, And waited. And waited. With no bra on. Seriously, apparently bras get in the way of chest examinations. If anyone knows me, they know that I'm only without a bra during Cardio and showers, so this was almost worse than the chest pains.

A couple of hours later (in my head) the doctor came in.

"I hear you might be dying."

Not fucking funny doctor. Not funny.

"Yep. My chest really hurts. It's a sharp pain."

"Does it hurt worse when you breathe in deeply?"

Breathes in deep.

"Ouch. Yes."

"Does this hurt," she asked, poking me in the middle of my chest.

"OW. YES."

"Okay, well, it's costochondritis. It's basically inflammation."

And she walked out.

Didn't she want to check my heart? Wasn't their some science-y machine that could confirm her diagnosis? Didn't she want to buy me dinner since she did, after all, get me naked?

Nope. It wasn't death, it was an inflamed chest wall.

The rest of the information I gathered was from the print-out diagnosis sheet the check-out lady gave me as I paid for the doctor's finger poke.

Basically, it hurts. It sucks. There's nothing you can do about it. And here, I'll quote Yahoo Health, obviously a very reliable source of information:

The causes of costochondritis are not well-understood and may be difficult to establish. The most likely causes include injury, repetitive minor trauma, and unusual excessive physical activity

It was costochondritis then and this is the same pain I remember. The breathe,ow! pain. The move,ow! pain. The lay down,ow! pain. It'd really suck if I were actually dying this time, but I'm putting my bets on it being costochondritis again.

Basically, exercise is trying to kill me.

So, that's where I've been. Not at the gym. Still eating all right, with the occasional churro and ice cream slip up (one to be exact.)

Well, how do I get better? I'll quote the Mayo Clinic for you:

Most cases of costochondritis have no apparent cause. In these cases, treatment focuses on easing your pain while you wait for costochondritis to improve on its own.

Oh, yay. I get to wait. AMAZING.

Lily Says: That just sounds very scary. This is why my physical activity is Cardio. I feel it's apt to blame Bret for your injury. I mean, you guys live in the same state.

The Root of all Evil Bret Says: Wow, thanks for this fantastic update that was 99% from a over a year ago. In my medical opinion you would probably be a lot healthier if you weren't such a slut. Having that many guys sit on your chest can produce negative results.

Also, you're short and likely under developed as a human being, so I can see you having weak lungs. I'm just here to help.

Lorraine Says: The anecdote from the past was necessary to understand my present condition, asshat. Is reading comprehension something else you struggle with? I guess, though, if you're Bret, that really is the least of your worries.

Weak lungs? Really? From the guy who ran a minute and almost died? Nice try.

Emotional Breakdowns = Weight Loss

Lily says: I’ve pulled a Bret and didn’t post for two weeks.

I had an emotional breakdown (sort of) and then stressed out about
school - for nothing, again.

But, all in all it was a good 2 weeks. Maybe not in my life, but the
losing weight.

I had no appetite. Had no Cardio and no cardio. BUT! Managed to lose 4
pounds the first week, and 2 the second. So maybe the key to losing
weight is 1) cry like a bitch for 14 days and 2) lose your appetite so
you won’t eat.

Either way, I’m still better than Bret.

Lorraine says: If crying like a bitch had anything to do with weight, Bret wouldn't have been fat in the first place, no?

Lily says: Yeah, probably. But he fails at mostly everything: Inflatable

girlfriends, blogging, life, etc.

How's that 5K training going, Bret?

Lorraine says: If Bret were chasing me, I'd run a 5k.

Lily says: A marathon even.

I like that Gmail put on my side bar "more about ... 5K beginner, training and schedules" Do you need this, Bret? 

Sloth to 5K says: I have successfully ran all 3 days of my couch to 5k thank you very much.  And also, I have given up french fries for lent.  AND I DONT EVEN CARE ABOUT JESUS.

I think this is good for you Lily, not only that you lost weight, but also that you had an emotional breakdown and cried for two weeks.  It shows that your brain has developed enough for you to realize how truly awful your life is.  Congratulations.

Lily says: Thanks. Maybe next Lent you can give up Haterade.

I Am Taking Over This Blog

Slightly Disappointing Says...

Look folks, the Bear ain't coming back.  Let's face it.  The Bear, he tried dieting.  It was a valiant attempt and all, but ultimately he was just too fat and pathetic to pull it off.  I think we should all be impressed that he made it this far.

As for the rest, well, I dunno.  There have been signs of life from the wife, however when it comes to Lily, well if you go through her tweets you will find the following combination of words many times "Dunkin" and "Donuts"  I will grant you that those could be sexual euphemisms, but most likely whenever she talks about losing weight it's a big fat lie.  Pun intended.

And then there is Lorraine.  She just won featured blogger over at 20sb.  I should say she and her partner, the other one, won featured blogger but let's face it, the other one isn't really a blogger at all.  She is but riding lorraine's coattails.  Well, Lorraine is all pressured and eating tons because of the pressure, and now she feels like she has to make her blog the greatest thing ever, which leaves no time for the blobs or dieting, so yeah...

I'm all alone.

So I thought I'd tell you about my couch to 5K experiences.  I have now done my entire first week of couch to 5K.  I slammed it out in three days, and I can tell you that it was nothing but a massive success.  I can tell you this because you are but internet people, and I don't mind lying.

But I DO have to tell you the story of Day 1.

I knew I wanted to do couch to 5k, I told you as much in my last blob, but I wasn't exactly sure when I was going to start it.  And then something very bad happened for my motivation:  My friend Ray was coming into town.  This meant it would be incredibly easy to put it off until next weekend, or maybe farther because I have a vacation coming up--more on that in a second--and that I ultimately would never even get to day 1 of my newest inevitable failure.  Nice.  It's like my work out plan was still-born.

I didn't want to fail though, and it was while I was at Chick-Fil-A getting Ray and I  fried chicken sandwiches and banana creme pie milkshakes that an idea happened upon me:

Ray is a fat ass.  Ray can do the couch to 5k too!


So, as we were slurping down our milkshakes I told him that we were going to run, and it would be good for us.  Now Ray is about 5'11 and 245.  So he is hugely obese.  He is also nowhere near as out of shape as I am.  I do have one advantage on him though, Ray has never, in all of his years of living, ever done anything more than work on computers.  Ray has no muscle mass.  I have SOME muscle mass due to the fact that it takes a lot of muscles to get this amount of fat between the bed and the toilet.  Thus I thought we were evenly matched.

Ray-This is going to be awful.
Me-This is supposed to be the easy one, the one that anyone can do.
Ray-We are going to die.
Me-I know.

To let you know what the easiest couch to 5k is, it's simple to explain.  You warm up by "walking briskly" for 5 minutes, then you alternate between running for a minute and walking for 90 seconds 9 times, and you finish by walking for 5 minutes again.

Well, we had the walking part down.  Granted, it wasn't "briskly" --we actually didn't see the adverb until day 3--but we were able to walk with no problem.  Then we ran our first minute.  When it got to the walking we were pleased.

Ray:-Oh my God this is bad. This hurts.
Me: *Gasp*Gasp*Gasp*
Ray-Oh fuck.  Fuck.

Then we ran the second minute:

Ray: Oh fuck.  Oh fuck oh fuck.
Me: Shit.
Ray: Fuck.  Oh fuck.  This hurts so bad.
Me: I want to give up.  How much time left to walk?
Ray 5 seconds.
Me: Oh God No.

Then we ran minute 3:

Ray: *Gasp*Gasp*Gasp*
Me: *Gasp*Heave*Heave*Gasp*Gasp*
Ray: 20 seconds left to walk.
Me: No.

...

..

Ray: OK, it's time
Me: No.

Ray then paused the program as I bent over and prepared to throw up.  I coughed, uncontrollably, and didn't even try to stop it.  I was prepared to puke after 3 minutes of running.  Miraculously, nothing came out.

Me: We are skipping this run and just walking it.
Ray: Good.

2 1/2 minutes later we did run 4:

Me: OK I'm feeling a little better.
Ray: Yeah, me too.  Yeah, we can do this.
Me: Skipping that run really helped.  I've caught my breath.  I think I can do it now.  How much longer?
Ray: 5 seconds.
Me:  ok ready....go!
Ray: No, wait.

Ray then walked over in the grass and coughed a little bit.  He then threw up more liquid than could have possibly have been inside of him.  I laughed.

Me: Are you ok?

Ray then went to throwing up again.  And again.  And again. I kept having to move farther and farther away from him because I was laughing extremely hard, and getting sick because someone was puking everywhere, that I was about to throw up myself.  This went on for 10 minutes at least.  Every time I thought he was done I would turn around to him and he would throw up some more.  It was awful.  and hilarious.  Little old ladies would walk by with their dogs just as fast as they could, yanking their dogs behind them as they desperately tried to get a taste of the puke.  This, my friends, is why liposuction exists.  People like us weren't meant to work out.

When he was finally done, there was no talk of couch to 5k.  We just walked home with me laughing the entire time.

Day 1: Failure.

I am proud to report that days 2 and 3 were successes in that we finished the workout without puking, but let me assure you that my legs are on fire.  This won't stop here.  We are going to do it again Thursday because we need to finish week 1, and we also need a few days off, and well, I need something to write about Thursday so that I don't become Bear.  I'll keep you posted to my ongoing progress with my newest lose weight fast scheme that will ultimately blow up into my face as puke and bananas.

But...friendly readers...I will be out of commission both March 24th and March 31st, and every day in between, and I was wondering if there were any fat slobs who are dieting, or would like to diet, and want to take my place.  You would be guesting for those two posts, and a part of the e-mail chain for all of the other days, provided somebody actually writes something, which isn't looking very likely.  If you are interested please put it in the comments below.  If there is more than one interested party, then we will choose the fattest and the slobbiest of all, so be sure to include how disgusting you are.  Who knows, maybe you can be a regular weekend contributor.  Or maybe you can take over for one of these over sized non dieting assholes.

It's Just Me, Because Everyone Else is Dead

Slightly Disappointing, And Only Slightly Disappointing Says...


Wow, is it my turn already?  What with all of your posts I never thought I would even find the time to write!

Well I still don't have a new scale, which is my next big thing.  You see at work we are responsible for putting in our own hours worked in order to get money, and well, I forgot.  So I'll be living this week off of my savings, stumbling around like a poor miser begging others for food.  Next week though, I'll have 2 paychecks and will be drinking from a ruby studded chalice with a diamond laced tiara on--and hopefully a new scale.

My big diet news from the week is simply that I am sore every single day from playing softball, and I love it.  It's got to help right?

But also, and here is what you will want to know:

I HAVE BEEN GUILTED INTO DOING THE COUCH TO 5K.

My fat (formerly fatter) friend has been doing this for a while now.  I'm thinking that it's his personal response to a life where, O.K. I'll just say it, he went from a productive human being to a worthless lump of cow crap that starts making you rethink the notion that no one should commit suicide.

Still, I envied him.  Essentially he is a few years older than me, and used to be in the same line of business.  Because of this he was ahead of me in every aspect of his life.  Then one day he fell down, and I began passing him everywhere.  It got to the point where he was pitiful and pathetic at anything and everything you could imagine.  I tried helping him for years, but it became apparent that something was going to have to happen from inside of him in order to recover.

Well, I'm not sure he has recovered.  He is now in his early 30's, and he works part time at Target.  PART TIME AT TARGET.  In other words, he ain't yet a catch, which is why he has such a bitch of a girlfriend (I love knowing that no one I know actually reads this blog).  Note to everyone out there:  If you ever have to explain to people that your significant other is "Better when you are alone," then they suck, and you should probably find someone that you both like, and isn't hated by the rest of the world.   

Anyway, the fact that he was able to get up and successfully exercise, and lose weight in the process, well this burned at me.  How can someone who fails at every part of life crush me in this part of it?  How can I be this much more inept than he is?

Still, I have always been far bigger than him, so I was able to make excuses and push this stuff aside.

Then I saw a picture of Facebook.  It was of my friend, next to my even fatter friend, right after a 5K.  Back in the day the 3 of us were tight, and we would laugh through our Taco Bell at anyone who suggested that we exercise in any way, and now I see them together after a 5K.  And now it was someone my size.  It was like looking at a picture of Jabba the Hut, only sweaty, and with a SMILE on his face.  Why?  Probably because he knew that he can do something that I could never do.  Asshole.

So now here I am, the left out friend.  The failure.  And I couldn't take it anymore.  My girlfriend had been suggesting I do the couch to 5K for quite a while, but for what?  So I could look sexier for her?  Who cares about her?

Now it's personal.

So two days ago I texted them both that they had me, and because of them I would be starting this program, and soon I'd be right there with them.

"Want to run with me tomorrow?  I'm going to the gym" was the response I got from one friend.

"No." I said.

I know, it's a bad way to start, however these last two days I have been going to watch my beloved St. Louis Cardinals play in spring training, which means I can't go to the gym with him because the timing doesn't work out, and also it isn't very easy to do anything physical when you have eaten a "skull."

What do I mean?  Well as you well know the anatomy of the skull is that you have the brain, and you have the skull covering it, but to keep it from smashing around on it you have this gooey stuff in between cushioning your brain.  Well at the stadium they have something similar.  They have a hot dog, encased in a pretzel, protected by a thick layer of liquid cheese.  And I'll be having more than one.

However, Friday or Saturday I will officially start my couch to 5K proceedings, and I will report back next week.  It's most likely going to be detailed in the post directly above this one, as no one on this damn site writes anymore anyway.

Bret's Dead and going to Hell (but he sends us messages from beyond the grave)

Witless Exposition says:

Has the zombie apocalypse started and I don't know about it?  I know Lily and Lorraine are still alive, but Bret? Maybe he's just holed up thinking about machine fucking.

For the first time in a while, I've managed to make some headway.  I lost four pounds this week even though we missed a couple of days at the gym.  The days we did go, I really pushed myself. The days I didn't, I was doing really physical housework like sorting and reorganizing our books (yes we have that many).

On the food front, I've been trying to make sure I eat breakfast every morning. Apparently it's good for you, but I find it just annoying. There hasn't been any snack type foods at the house to tempt me, which makes a big difference, even if it makes me grumpy sometimes.

On the whole a good week, which doesn't do much for comedy, but does a lot for my motivation.

Lorraine says:
I'm alive! But um... my mother taught me that if I have nothing to say I should say anything at all. I apply that advice solely to talking about myself, so that explains the silence. But, I'm also free to call you boring. Hooray for the four pounds though! I don't think I've lost four pounds together since this started. I have eaten four zebra cakes together, though, so that probably explains that.

Bret says:
Yeah, i didn't realize i missed my day until just now.  This week flew by.  Congrats on the 4 pound lost.  You are still fat.  

Gym Pron!!

TBM Says: So I weighed in this morning for the first time in a few weeks and unfortunately my results were unfortunate.  I've gained back a few pounds and it's probably got a lot to do with my lack of focus on the diet.

I haven't been eating horribly, but certainly not as well as I had been before.  This week I'm going to try to focus on that more heavily.  I've got myself a big bucket of salad that I'll be tackling over the course of the week for lunch.  

While I didn't do great on the diet front we did do pretty good going to the gym this week.  We actually managed to go 5 times and one time we actually got a sex show.  That's right blobs...someone was trying to fuck the shit out of one of the exercise machines.

This was our first weekend gym sessions, and seemingly God was trying to reward me for going to the gym on a Sunday morning.  So we get there and we both head to the elliptical machines, which are situated directly behind the "arch" machines (I had never heard of a machine like this before, but it's basically a stair stepper style machine).  On the arch machine directly in front of the Wife is this Latino woman who has clearly been on this machine for a while and she is straight up fucking this machine.  She's got this whole hip motion going and everything.

I'm sure the Wife found the whole thing rather disturbing and frankly so did I, if only to a lesser degree.  Well blobs, I hope you enjoy the imagery that I've set out for you...especially you Bret.  I know you need any imagery you can get, to make that blow up girl friend of yours just a little bit more interesting. 

Bret Says: I know I've made fun of you a lot Bear, but really...I find this writing very interesting, and I would love it if you would elaborate a little more.  I won't even make fun of you for falling behind me in the pounds department.  But please, you were saying?

Another Milestone. Ho Hum.

Slightly Disappointing Says....

O.K. O.K. Enough of those boring people.  Let's talk about me.

270.  A 5 pound drop calls for a picture.

Only it's not really a 5 pound drop.  My broken scale says 270.  My roommates good scale says 266.8.  I'll stick with 270 up until I actually get a new scale in which case I can drop several pounds instantly.  Nice.

I did very well this week.  I ate healthy with every fricking meal.  Every one.  I walked every single day, and I played softball which has made me hurt like hell.  My only slip was today I ate pizza, but I did so because it was free.  Frankly I would chug free acid if offered.  Free is always more important than any diet.

So here I am, galloping past the Bear, continuing to be the only person on this blog that, you know, loses any sort of weight.  Next week perhaps with a new scale I can give you a 265 picture.

As for the pictures, I wore the same clothes to see a real comparison, but I'm sure you won't be able to.  At my highest I was 285 and I looked...the exact same.  It doesn't matter how much weight I lose, I look like what I look like.  I'm fairly certain I could lose a leg, and no one would notice.  Still, the women like to see me, and that's who I do this for, so...

Oh, now that I've looked at the photo, I am reminded of this weeks' most important weight loss event of all.  I got my haircut.  By a lunatic.  Still, less weight on top of my head.

Lily, enjoy all the cardio that I'm sure will go with looking at that photo.

Lily Says...

Bret, Cardio doesn't involve looking at pictures. Obviously, you're doing it wrong. No wonder your blow up doll is whoring around. C'mon dude.

 

Also, stop using broken scales. You know they lie.

 

Note to self: Give Bret acid. He likes free things. 

Lor Says...

So, I'm pretty sure Bear won't admit to this but he was pretty sad earlier now that Bret weighs less than he does.

There, there, Bear. The solutions is obvious: Bret. Likes. Free. Things. If he doesn't have a mailbox full of sausage by tomorrow, I'll be highly disappointed in you.

Big Fat Bear Says...

My only worry was about poisoning him with spoiled sausage...now that I know he's into acid I'll be sending him some sausage made with year old coffee grounds.
After all...free is free.

Slightly Disappointing Says...

Hey Bear, I heard you were diagnosed with "spoiled sausage."