I'm, sorry. Really. I haven't quit...per say, I knew these weeks would be next to impossible.
I'm part of a new system that is rolling out at work, and as such my normal 40 hour work weeks are climbing into the 60s. Wednesday? When I might have written it? I worked 3AM to 4:30PM and then fell down and collapsed. Thursday? In at 6AM out at 930PM, more collapsing. I'm sorry.
I was actually given permission to come in whenever I wanted today, and part of me was scared of taking to great of an advantage of this, after all, what does that mean? Would they be mad if I came in at 4PM? Realistically I just may have slept in that long.
(I had a really hard time at 5:42 AM trying to decide if that sentence should be in past, present, or future modes. I am writing my worry last night, and at the present explaining that it could go into the future. I'm sure the answer is simple, but I'm out of my head right now.)
Obviously I don't have to worry about that. Obviously I'm awake right now for another insane day. Obviously we have a rapist in Lincoln Park.
The question is how on Earth am I awake?
The answer is I awoke sick to my stomach from all of the "foods" we have been catered with during these long hours.
I promise you that yesterday's diet of chicken, meatballs, mashed potatoes, and Chipotle did not help.
Further more, I assure you that it was worse that, for the sake of much needed bursts of energy I spent the day inhaling many chocolate covered treats.
We also had something we called the "chee" diet, which consisted of Nacho Cheese Doritos, Cheetos, and Cheese Cake.
This is not to mention the "cream puffs," a glorious invention I was not aware of that is like eating a cup of pudding, only instead of having a cup of pudding in a plastic container, you have a cup of pudding in a sugar laden edible pastry ball.
And then there was the nerd rope. I had never had a nerd rope before, but basically it's a whole bunch of nerds on some sort of sticky gummy rope that stretches about 15 feet across and takes 19 seconds to eat in its entirety. It's nothing more than sugar congealed in various types of solid and semi solid form all glued (with sugar) to one another. It's disgusting. It also gives you a rush like you wouldn't believe. I'm pretty certain it's a gateway drug to speed, which is something that I will be trying today, provided that it is catered.
Basically my stomach is killing me, so I might as well wake up and go to work right now, that is if I can find any pants to fit.
I don't have time to diet. All of the diet experts say this is a horrible excuse and that anyone who says this has to reorganize their life, because they are living it wrong. I don't have time to argue with them right now.
This will go away, and I promise I absolutely hate myself right now and I will be back on the diet train soon.
Current estimates place this around late January. 2016.
Please, blobbers, feel free to edit this with any mocking you would like to post.
Lorraine Says: If Wednesday's funny was thinking of Bret the pee-pee-less wonder, today, I giggled at the thought of Bret singing along to the Bed Intruder Song. I'm not sure if I should link that as it's like the number one video ever invented on Youtube ever. Oh, whatever. Fine:
Nerd ropes are insane. I think I spent all of my middle school career fueled off of nerd ropes, Twix bars and hormones so you can imagine that it was in fact a very interesting time. I try my best to forget it, much like I will try and forget the description of the "Chee diet." I have a stomach ache just reading about it.
The moral of the story, I think, is that Bret loses. At life. He doesn't actually have a life at this moment, though, so it's more of a technical loss. At this rate, even Lily can lose more weight than he can. I mean, even Wife can and I'm pretty sure we haven't heard from her in a week, which means she's dead.
She's dead ya'll, but decomposition is a pretty fast way to lose weight so she wins over Bret. Hey you. Reading this. Do you never combine Doritos with cheesecake? You win over Bret. Have you never had an inflatable significant other? You win. Do you have genitalia? You win.
Blogging Blobs, where we make you feel better, because at least you aren't Bret.
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