The word of today, children: projection.
I didn't do jack this week in regards to my blogging blobs journey, and I blame the weather and TBM. You see, TBM went out of town this week for work, and we both know that when he goes, I eat like a five year old. (I eat like a ten year old when he's here).
Not a whole lot, just what I do eat is generally junk. So this week my diet consisted of: instant mashed potatoes, a few leftovers, and peanut butter sandwiches. Why the huge range?
That's the second part: the weather. Now, I know that the rest of the country has had it a lot worse than my part of south Texas, but you would have thought that the world ended this week. We stayed in the low 20s for most of the week, and while Chicago and the rest of the north would think it was a brisk day, what did we do? Institute rolling blackouts because the infrastructure couldn't handle everyone turning their heater all the way up to 80. I didn't go to the grocery store, because I didn't want to get stuck in a huge warehouse with no lights (too many zombie movies). And I didn't bother going to the gym , because I didn't want to do a youtube worthy fall of the treadmill when it randomly stopped.
Why didn't I play the Wii? Because I was holed up in our guest bedroom, because it was the only room in the house that could stay over 65. Downstairs wasn't an option.
Today, we've even managed to accumulate an inch of snow and the whole city has shut down. You see, we generally get about half an inch of snow annually, so now, all the major highways are shut down, they had to send for ice trucks from god knows where, and the news anchors are screaming "For the love of all that is holy, please stay home! You can't stop on the roads! Breaks are useless! God has called down his judgment on us!"
Or something like that.
So, I'm a fat ass, but in the true American way, I claim, it's not my fault.
(Ok, ok, I know it's my fault, but the poor, pitiful, me route isn't as funny).
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